Best of times, worst of times.

Exams. Start tomorrow. And here I am, blogging about that strange feeling in the air. But it's true. There is a strange feeling in the air. And it's bothering me because I can't seem to decipher it. It's happy with the ever-so-slight touch of gloom. Ominous and yet immensely promising. So many questions, no answers. As always. So many people and so many relationships. Some old ones being broken, some new ones simultaneously being forged. And yet, for once, I don't care. Or so I would like to believe, although gut says (damn you, gut feels!) that it's a farce I'm trying to put on. Flip side is I don't know what else to do. Caring begins to hurt and I can't seem to take any more of that. Home. That's what I need. Soon. 


"It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair, we had everything before us, we had nothing before us, we were all going direct to heaven, we were all going direct the other way - in short, the period was so far like the present period, that some of its noisiest authorities insisted on its being received, for good or for evil, in the superlative degree of comparison only."

Dickens never made more sense.