Rolling In The Deep

One of my favourite days in Perth. Wait, who am I kidding, all the days spent in Perth are my favourites. But this gotta be one of the highlights. It's the day when I talked in an Aussie-British accent the whole day, to waitress, to the small boy, to the small boy's parents, to my friends. It's the day, I rolled down the hill, over and over again. The day I wore 3 layers because it was chilling baby. The day I dougied during the sunset and laid on the grass with my shades on reading Stephen White's mind blowing thriller, with the ferris wheel humming the magical tune behind me.

I miss tumbling down the rolling hills, and wanting to do it all over again. Doesn't it feel like that in your life? You take a tumble, and you know you can't stop, you feel your shoulders popping and your arms aching and you want it to stop, and when you finally come to a halt, you just want to do it all over again. I guess it's my fault that I'm in this sticky situation though many tell me that it isn't, that it's the other party fault. But a little part of me argued back that if I hadn't turned my back, would this be the same result?

You could say I was tumbling through this dark tunnel, fingers crossed, eyes closed, too stubborn, too headstrong to open my eyes. I blame the hunger for adrenaline for the precarious fragile situation I am in. But you know, a heartbeat later, I'll do it all over again.