The Grandparents are leaving tonight. Which is a good thing, for me, atleast. I know, yes, that I sound very callous, and yes, I do believe that there is some form of love for them at the bottom of dark, black shrivelled up heart. But still, they're leaving tonight, and that makes me happy. Call me evil if you will, but I'm still pretty happy about it.
It's not that I don't like THEM, I just don't like the fact that while they're here, there's always someone around in the house. I'm not a people-person. I don't like phone calls, and I don't like unnecessary talking, I don't like small talk with people I barely know. I actually derive a sort of composed pleasure from coming home to an empty house. I like the power of having to open that front door with a key and walk in with no one to smile at and no one to ask about my day, or how my test went, am I hungry, do I want to eat or take a shower first? I don't like concern, and I find my relaxation in the sterile glow of the television as it blares on and on, and I eat my cold food in front of it, with my socks still on, and the bag thrown across the floor.
I don't like having people around all the time, I think absence does make the heart grow fonder. And I WOULD be, definitely more tolerant towards people if they let me live in a bubble. Which is why, despite all her (glaring) flaws, I do not actually mind living with my mother. She lives in her bubble, and I live in mine, and we're both quite non-invasive (most of the time). I like solitude. I like the sound of silence, and I like when no one is around. It does not make me goth. Or emo. Because I am not depressed, neither do I want to kill myself. I just like non-invasiveness.
In other news, I've been listening to a lot of Damien Rice lately. The man, if I do say so myself, is the baap of Gary Lightbody. His music is gut-wrenchingly heart-rending, and its primarily because his songs are stark and stripped down, using just the basic piano, strings and simple drums. And then, there's Lisa Hannigan, who's haunting echoes in the background make the soung even more dreamscape-ish. His music is slow, and it's raw, and controlled enough so that each song stops short of a masterpiece, making you want to listen to the next one. And if you can get past the highly-publicised "The Blower's Daughter", have a go, plunge into "Accidental Babies", and "Unplayed Piano". You might even like it.
There are six year olds playing cricket downstairs. It's almost noon, but they're still in their pajamas, and they haven't brushed their teeth. And even they're still a bunch of stinky, immature children, I think I envy them.
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Oh, and Patrick-shaped-pillow. :D