When you're not home.

It's been 11 days that I've been in China, and call me a wuss, but it's the longest I've been away from home, from loved ones and I still have another 31 days left. I miss home. I've been missing home for the past 6 days or so. I miss my cat, my sister, my sometimes irrational brother and my mother. I miss my friends, I miss my favourite person and this is quite amazing, but I do miss Singapore. I will not dwell into how we are all in a shithole here, I suppose it is not too bad and that it is getting better with time. But I am definitely counting down the days

The past four mornings or so have been dreadful. Every night when I shut my eyes to drift off, looking forward to another day, I wake up next morning with a heartache that burns. Like when we were children waking up to an empty house, worried, feeling like the world left. Every morning waking up to seeing a pair of denim shorts hanging dry against the white wall, hangers on a hook and two pieces of paper, one reminding me and my room mate about our keys and the other a count of how many days we have been here, those similar to the ones in jail. It's been painful for the past four mornings but yesterday morning has got to be the worst. The moment my eyes pinned on the view, I curled to my side and held myself together; literally. I wanted to cry but I was semi-conscious and it wouldn't have been justified if I did. But thank God for internet and Google Talk, the first thing I did was to talk to my most favourite person in the world and it got better, it always does. No matter, I hope I'll slowly get used to this heartburn and eventually get over it. And now I am under my blanket, it's autumn outside and Evanescence is serenading. I need to brace myself for the morning.