London wind is nothing compared to wind from my mother country. Here it feels as though it speaks and whispers something incoherent, it's chilling. Englishmen are probably used to having these sorts of weather conditions but for a tropicana like me it just feels somewhat eerie. Like it's coming from a suspense thriller movie or something. Not that I miss my country, damn no. It's just adapting to this new environment is something I could never have thought of several years ago. My comfort zones just disappear like they never even existed. I wonder what life I would have had if I fought to stay back home. So many possibilities running in my mind, it's all so unclear. The least thing I'd want to trigger is regret. I love London. I prefer this than back there. But something peculiar just feels so, you know, wanting to leap over my body and slap me back to my former form. Makes me remember people, friends and places. Aileen.
Dark, darker, darkest, there is no difference. All hurts the same. Pain, everlasting, lingering. Pain, day and night. The hours are uncertain. Anything can happen now. Thinking about it hurts. Truth is unreliable. The romance is dead. My heart, it is lost. Unrecoverable, hateful, distrusting. Wishful, perhaps, but I have lost everything before and survived still. This one was special. So special. Embittered, the tip of my tongue tastes. The flavour of my life. Cuisine of kitchens unwanted. It burns, to the heart. I do not understand. I do not understand.