I'm always going to worry about the things that could make us cold. And void. Especially void...

I have already told a few people that I might not be here next year. And just before I told Liz, she had mentioned something about staying in Melbourne and working for a while. It’s almost funny, really. The irony of role reversal...

But what really bugged me was her amazement that I’m not angry or sad or anything negatively passionate, as I probably should be. And I started thinking that maybe she’s right. Now I just can’t help but think that maybe there’s something wrong with me. I mean, looking at me you probably wouldn’t think I cared an ounce about my family. How unbelievably selfish...

And try as I may, I can’t seem to get a proper perspective about the whole thing. Am I really that horribly desensitized or am I just inhumanly selfish and callous, and is there even a difference?

Somehow I feel like I’m betraying someone, or something - that I should at least pretend to be affected. But another completely different side scorns the very idea. I don’t have to pretend for anyone. I shouldn’t have to, and I won’t.

But perception in this case it totally irrelevant. It’s not that I don’t care... I do (or at least that’s what I’d like to think), it’s just that caring isn’t going to do anything for me. Based on experience, it never affected anything I didn’t have control over. But whether I actually care or not (which I suppose remains unknown at this point), I can’t deny the fact that I feel nothing. And yes, I am bothered by it – as bothered as an unfeeling person may be – to a certain extent. Bothered about not being bothered.

Maybe my practicality has gone too far this time. Maybe reasoning has told me not to worry about things that can’t be solved by my own hands. Don’t resist it. Hakuna Matata.

But no... I’m not like that. Not really. In the past I’ve been known to pick at everything, worry excessively over everything. What happened?

There used to be feral snarling, bloodthirsty voices and thoughts that said things like ‘what about then?’ and ‘how very thoughtful of you...’, but it seems like they have long since disappeared. The creature that they tied to the pyre now sits in the pile of straw – stoic, perhaps with a book in her lap – waiting... slowly turning each page...

But what about the rest? Don’t I owe them some form of feeling? To those who’ve graced my life with their love and friendship? Of course I do.

Looking at this cynically, once could say that I’ve moved too much - that I’m somehow less attached. That I’m the cat that walked by herself and all places are alike to me... ‘people are replaceable’ and that sort of thing...

But that’s not true. Maybe I just think that some bonds of friendship are unbreakable, and therefore not something to worry about. In that sense, resettling would be, if anything, maybe a gaining experience. But certainly not a losing one.

As long as you’re still on the planet, still breathing and to an extent - reachable... then it’ll be okay right? Maybe due to all the moving, the world really is all that much smaller to me. When my dad moves from the kitchen to the study... he’s still there, right? Is that even really the way I see it? I can’t be sure.

Maybe it’s because I’m banking on the fact that everyone I love is somehow tied to Singapore – that even if they don’t live there then at least their families do. Maybe I’ll only really think I’m losing them when that link disappears and their families move away.

Of course it’s human nature to put things into self-perspective first. It’s heard all the time.

“You won’t be here anymore. You’re leaving me.”

It’s just that the thought behind this self-perspective is something I can’t completely understand. Not completely. I know I’m leaving, yes. We will be apart. But I don’t feel that I’m leaving you.

Yes, I am leaving the part of the world where your feet are momentarily planted, and I understand too well what it’s like to miss people. And I do and am capable of missing people.

But I’m not leaving you; whoever you may be. I’m just leaving.

And no... I don’t suppose you’re understanding any of this... At times I sound ridiculous even to myself.
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