so i am back, and not exactly too pleased with the fact. but it's for the people, not for the place that i come back for. so i musn't complain much. instead, i will sit in my chair, and imagine myself holding my breath, until i turn purple and sour like a plum, and burst, the sticky goo flying all over the place, dripping onto the floor.
i already miss the nights, with two cups of steaming tea and pastries.
but i'm not unhappy, if that is what you are thinking. i don't know who you are, but you are wrong to think such thoughts. i may not be happy, but not unhappy. simply bemused, if i must choose a word. or stranged-out, if that may even be a word. but not unhappy.
nope, not unhappy.
though if i were so, i wouldn't have known anyway. i don't think i have suffered through a true unhappiness. and i'm not waiting.
so, um, yes.
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