You make everything alright

But when the melancholy fit shall fall
Sudden from heaven like a weeping cloud,
That fosters the droop-headed flowers all,
And hides the green hill in an April shroud;
Then glut thy sorrow on a morning rose,
Or on the rainbow of the salt sand-wave,
Or on the wealth of globèd peonies;
Or if thy mistress some rich anger shows,
Emprison her soft hand, and let her rave,
And feed deep, deep upon her peerless eyes.
- John Keats, Ode on Melancholy (lines 11-20)





It's raining and i'm in my room listening to the radio with The Diary of an American Au Pair sitting on my bed, wishing I had a mug of steaming white chocolate mocha next to me. I was done with A Tree Grows in Brooklyn this morning. Now, that was a great book.
[The rain seems reassuring, oddly enough.]
My brother has some major exams taking place in the next few weeks so the house is filled with panic vibes, since my parents are just as worried about his exams as he is. I look back on those years with some amount of fondness, if ever fondness can be quantified. I went through the same exams seven years ago feeling calm and unafraid about the outcome. I cannot explain my lack of fear. It just was.

Tomorrow will be my second visit to the psychiatrist.

[Happy 1st of November! Now, that is indeed something to celebrate. Also, i turn 23 in 20 days. Not that i'm counting or anything like that. Something else i'm looking forward to- Starbucks' Christmas coffee. Oh, the excitement surrounding the revelation is almost too much for me to bear.]