Solitary

I wanted to be, tonight, but it didn't work out quite that way.
I bought the wine...even though it was 3699HUF I bought it, because it reminded me a little of those Alkoomi wines Remy and I shared on Sundays in Freo, with cheese and grapes. And I wanted the wine to help me remember.
I had a killer day at the library, at home working, at the gym sweating shameless buckets. But I yearn to be a little bit by myself. I have real trouble saying that to people, be it mum or Balint or anyone...but today, after the library as I walked through the already cold city in my bright green cardy and clackety shoes, I thought I AM happy, but I need some Bananatime to temper the rush.
Seven months and I'm going home. And if it kills me, by god I'm going to spend some time down south, breathing the air, watching the sea, and remembering how fucking FUCKING lucky I truly am.
It's 11pm, Balint is at a concert with mates, and the movie mum watched with me is over. The bottle of wine is finished, I'm sipping some lemonade that Balint made, and then I'm going to read one or maybe two of Murakami's short stories that I bought in the CEU bookshop yesterday.
I'm full of this yearning that is not really strong enough to make me feel unsatisfied, but I can definitely feel a scratching....a readiness to do something else. Four weeks, and I'll have the most shit hot thesis this side of the black stump!