Its a Sun-Day, Yet Its Raining, Fuck Irony.

Its raining outside. Light drops. Gentle, yet seemingly slowing down everything. Even the mind is thinking backwardly, instead of staying in the present, it wanders off the terrain of the Past. My only wish on Sundays such as this, is to be left alone, so that I can recline and retrace all the steps that had been taken, consciously or with its sub counterpart. Neither more or less. But I guess that's just too luxurious.

Its still raining as I type this, and the wails of duty is already knocking the door of my bedroom. Off to Seremban in a bit.

If I continue..