PMSing perhaps?

Tonight’s one of those nights. those say-nothing-please-nights of bleakness and dissolution. Feeling a lil down, suddenly. Looking at the stacks of books and notes on the table, all I get is jus watery eyes. I'm havin PMS, perhaps. The time fits in well anyways.

It's an excuse, and I'm sticking to it.

Or mayb it's the song I'm listening to now. Sometimes, songs do get you sink into depression. Dont' they?

Tonight, I miss the smell of you, of home. Miss teasing my sister, and seeing her getting frustrated. =p For the first time having been here for more than a month plus, the feeling of missing shows its presence.

Smell. It's kinda strange that I no longer dislike the cigarattes smell that much, for it has served as an inducer to remind me of you. The smell of your cologne and the taste of the cig in your mouth. I'm not forgetting it, am I? Can I? or Will I?

'I'm sure you can do it', you have said it soo many times to me when I'm in need of support.

I remember.

But does remembrance lighten the shadows; does it warm one in the dead of winter? It cannot dispel the grief. But it certainly helps when it comes in the form of support that you're makin it into.

If remembrance is all that I have, and that's afterall what I've been holding on to.