On the day of my funeral, I want New Slang by the Shins to ring out from the speakers of the church(?) at a volume through which the pretty melody at the very beginning will touch any soul who has the decency to admire the beauty of such rhythm. If it were to bring to life brilliant nostalgia in their minds as well, I would see my life to be a worthwhile experience.

Today I saw Leah for the first time since almost november. After four days of actually living my life instead of dreaming about life I am exhausted to the point that curling up in bed in my nest of doona and blankets is the most dreamy thing I can fantasise about right now. I met Leah 20 minutes later than we arranged because I'm groovy like that. We scabbed health care card forms from Centrelink, browsed dresses and hoodies and toured Deakin University before she told me I was welcome to come to her place. I think we have a fairly bizarre friendship. We don't really say a whole lot to each other unless we're alcohol influenced or online. I guess in a way, I see it as enjoying each other's company without having to battle for conversation. It's just peaceful and I like wandering around with her even when we don't really have anything much to say. At her house, I watched her scrub mould-encased chairs while playing fetch with her dog and chatted politely with her brother. I was taught the mechanics of a manual car. Four hours later, I rushed home to cook dinner before mum got home and exploded rage at me for being lazy.

I'm kind of getting used to living again. As tiring as it is, I'm liking this. I've managed to survive four days of life without an instance of disappointment or drama unfolding. So maybe my head is on its way to being mended. Which would be an epic relief if it were to happen coz sadness is exhausting in the bad sense. I don't have hope though. Less hope makes damaging, disappointing events easier to deal with. And I need this.