Something happened on the weekend before last (that weekend I wrote the previous entry) which was, I thought, rather nightmarish in nature but too personal to be detailed in these blog-pages. It was altogether very trivial (just a misunderstanding really) yet impacted me far too much for it to be excluded from mention completely. Although apologies were exchanged and all is forgiven, I'm afraid I shall always remember the incident -- its memory is like a stubborn splinter caught in the thick calluses of one's feet...
Sometimes, I feel like I'm invisible. Or that I'm like some colour-shifting chameleon that could blend with the walls or its surroundings. Why do I say so? Because people just don't seem to know I'm around. Sometimes. On occasion, it is certainly fun to be invisible of course; you see things which you are not likely to see at other times (when people can see you). But then again, it is not a very nice feeling to know that you are as good as invisible. When in fact, you're not.
