I am counting down to the day I leave Singapore. C’est vrai, je partent Singapour beaucoup mais cette fois il est indéfini. I rarely if ever feel homesick. The closest I’ve been was in Europe but then again I choose to think that rather than the desire to come back to Singapore,it was the terrible longing for a place I could rest my tired head and just lay under a heavy web of darkness, close my eyes and fall asleep. Truly when I came back to Singapore, I had to content with this dark misery rising up within me and I almost convinced myself to fly back to Maryland. Just because.

I sleep best in Sarah Sanchez’s room. In between falling asleep, I use to wonder drowsily to myself why I sleep better in Sarah’s room than my room in Singapore or even in our room in Maryland. I’ve come to conclusion that without the damn animal, Frank pounding and hurling himself on the stairs at insane 4am in the morning I will sleep soundly and uninterrupted. You see Patrick and I sleep in the basement downstairs and when Frank goes into one of his crazy jaunts I am awoken directly below. Other than that when Frank is in his cage and everyone is gone out of the house , I sleep very soundly in the dark, cool basement. I don’t sleep so well in Singapore because the sunlight streams in, through my thin eyelids and voila I am woken up.

The days are slowly trickling by and I am Portland bound in 50 days. Singapore is too tiring. Too noisy. Oh my, everywhere noise pervades the senses. In the train, a hundred and ten announcements come on and invade your ears, people rush in awkward and warm in a poorly air conditioned carriage… Et moi? I just sit and wish I was elsewhere. Anywhere.

Ugh.