When I reached there, the road was barren - it was so long and deserted, the end of the road was a tiny dot from an infinite perspective. Reality is like a bed of roses - the petals are so red, but there are thorns that will make you crazy. A week ago, I received a notification from Facebook telling me that Custard wanted to befriend me - once again. It took me three days before I hit that Confirm button. Never thought it would be easy, I knew that, but I didn't want to hold grudges in my life. Why should I keep the personal vendetta when there are too much hatreds already in the world? So the old stories flooded back in, like a tsunami of memories, swept through from the ocean floor up to the highest waves. I befriended him for two days before I removed him from my friend's list. One does not befriend her ex, I told myself. But that just another excuse to make myself feel better. I tell that later.
So it was Sunday, the second week of February. Memories are everywhere, from the Club Med to the secluded beach that I reigned territory before. I just had to run away, I just had to forget, I just had to dissolve myself into a relaxing Sunday, the normal Sunday that most normal people do. This place has been my hideout. I jogged here, I slept here, I screamed here, I drew here, I wrote my entry here, I had my lunch here, I once dated Custard here, I once had my happy moment with Liam here. Of any other places that I had been, this is the place where I found my solace.
For once, I got to see how almost clear the sky was, how blue was the ocean, how pretty the clouds in front of the blue canvas, how free the white seagulls were looking for the fish in the open sea, how asymmetrical the rocks that crashed the wave.
For once I got to open my camping chair, sit down, and forget. And for once, after many weeks of struggle, I get to plan what's for lunch tomorrow. I know it won't be Shepherd's Pie.