Came back, feeling relieved and glad that the government was kind enough to give us a break that lasts 72 hours before returning to the battlefield.

Came home, had a long bath, cleared the table that was occupied with a mountain of books. Took out my net book, switch on the power and the screen came back to life after almost a week of abandoning it.

Feeling happy that I had a break and could finally let my hair down a little, something broke again. Like a vase falling down from the table, shattering into tiny little pieces and the flowers inside it lay lifeless and helpless on the floor, covered by tiny pieces of broken glass.

That's a metaphor about how my life has been lately. Every single moment something wonderful happens, it disappears, just as fast as how it appeared out of sheer luck. What has been going on? Is it the stress? Is it the paranoia? I don't really know either.