Yes I know I am barely three months into being a bouncy lively 21 year old but when compared to an 18 year old... I pale in comparison.

Yes, sour grapes.

I wonder how I would be like when I hit 30?

Probably bent double with envy and a permanent sulk installed on my face.

Probably all dressed in somber colours like most of the working population in Singapore.

Or the working populations of the world for that matter.

Argh. *mind boggles as I try to comprehend myself in the working world*

Well, in the words of my English professor, "Well after your treatment you will feel like a new person!"

I don't want to feel like a new person... I want to be my old person. Or maybe the older me with less depressive episodes.

Nah. I thrive too much on melancholy. Yes, drama queen me.

Well back to chirpy Chirpy.

Almost exactly like me. Or maybe exactly like me. Or maybe me when I am in my hyperactive mode.

Whatever. You get the idea. And when I look at her I get the twang of hurt that I was like that and now I am a whiny, tired, self indulgent bitch instead of a chirpy, carefree and overly frank person.

Okay, I think using my brain before I say anything is one good trait I have introduced in the whole fibre of my being.

Hmmmmmmm... my stomach is rumbling for some weird reason and it hurts to think. Ouch.

I don't make much sense again.

Like the remarks on my essay, "Good ideas but incoherent."

Sigh. Whatever happened to my fantastic grades?

I think I am sucked dry and am no longer a plump succulent grape.

Oh well, at least prunes are good for the bowel movements.

Heh and I just realised that the dried up version of grape is raisin, not prune.

Who cares? I'm too old to feel ashamed of my behaviour:)