It's all such an act and I've mentioned this before of course but it continues to haunt me, continues to surprise me.  Ten days to a fortnight after I realize where I'm going comes the actual breakdown. The actual realization and regret. Before it was all scripted, the disappointment, the tears and resignation. And now, when there are guests downstairs and actual work to be done I am incapable of lifting a finger.

I'm alright, I'm alright, I'm alright. It's for the best, four years will go by just like that, I can study what I please, it's another city, a competitive university, people have done worse, the parents are happy. Of course I'm alright.

And they're so happy that I listened and wasn't stubborn and didn't pull them further and further apart, didnt pick at the remains of what is left of a relationship. I'm getting lots of presents. So happy.

And all the congratulations and forced smiles and buying suitcases and straighteners have kept me so occupied. All of a sudden the phone rings again and I cannot, just cannot tell yet another person that I am excited.

All I can do is reassure myself that I did the right thing for me. In the long run this guarantees my freedom. And in that selfishness, I delight.

I'm alright, I'm alright, I'm alright, Except for now I'm not.