Bloody restless. My nature is restlessness, but I’ve been indoors too long now. I haven’t got the car to myself. Haven’t got my thoughts to myself, either. Am suffering from thoughts of doing my Masters again, of heading off to Singapore next week. Two dear friends are back for good by this week, but they will need to climatize, I won’t be the only one missing them all these years.
Am terribly tempted to head off to Kelantan, laze by the beach and maybe flirtatiously cross the Thai border for a meal. Then it hits me I can’t go alone and I resent the cultural precautions inhibiting my gender. To be fair, I generally resent my gender.
I often miss Edinburgh for those moment where at four a.m. I decide to walk out into the streets unmolested. Then I did.
It’s not the world’s fault, despite how it sounds. I can’t seem to strike a serious conversation with anyone. The task is daunting. I wonder how my old friends are, but I can’t seem to explain in turn what exactly is happening to me.
