Butterflies and broken roller skates, The colours bleed like finger paint

It occurred to me that in all my 21 (coming to 22) years, this is the first time that I'm living completely alone. I've always had housemates, be it family when I was back in Kuching, or random people put together when I was on Hamilton Island and in Toowoomba (or rather, Whoop-whoop, as peterabbit likes to call it).

This time, I am truly alone. For the time being until I find a housemate anyway. Living alone is a bit freaky. Particularly with a "bien tai" pervert of a postman who asks all sorts of random questions and tries to buy time at my door every time he delivers parcels that I have to sign for. Brrrrrr. There have been reported break-ins in the neighbouring suburbs over the past week, too. And when you're alone in your house and hear weird noises at night, what do you do? Roll yourself into a caterpillar and hope that whatever or whoever is causing the din can't see you.

It used to puzzle me that movies along the lines of Fantaghiro and The Brothers Grimm greatly disturb me. After all, talking rocks and knights in shining armour are pretty close to what goes on in my head. Pondering upon it, I have come to the following conclusion: Witches with long fingernails scare me. Of course, it might also have something to do with dark eerie forests. But long fingernails are definitely petrifying. Definitely.