The winds they howl like wolves devouring a mountain tonight. And I know it's almost inhumane to feel this way but I wish we'd both be awakened by the storm at five in the morning once again and you'd tell me to go back to sleep, not to worry about the end of the world and send me sad-face emoticons to show you were worried. I'm a monster. Lock your doors and assemble your teddy bear armies, children.
My dad warned me about being too pampered. Yes, that's the word. The one I dread the most, the one I've tried to best avoid since I knew of its implications and its frequent/convenient association with the youngest child. Please, anything but pampered, please. But alas, I have not escaped its trappings - I am regrettably and desperately pampered. And all at once I felt ashamed, hurt and angry but maybe that's just me throwing a tantrum. A side of me blamed them. Is it wrong to have merely been the recipient of said pampering if my parents wished it upon me? Regardless, a part of me knows that I have, indeed, behaved childishly for far too long and I know, I know, that I need to start acting my age. And I will try. Harder. To stop being a monster, stop being so immersed in my own childish problems, and start acting nineteen.
So as I, once more, embark to a foreign land, my very present conquest shall be to sober up and grow up. I won't promise success upon my return come Thursday, but I promise to have laboured upon my commitment.
Singapore, be safe.
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