I allude to no deep emomomomomo meanings when I say that the waiting games are over. By that I mean not frustrating, exciting mind games wrought with sexual tension, like those constructed by bad writers who attempt to portray pseudo-intellectuals falling into True Love. It is frighteningly literal. Ho. Hearts. Solitaire. Spider solitaire. Blah Blah. They shall always carry that vaguely panicky, dark, uncomfortable connotations. But for now, I shall be cheerful and comment that it is nice to know that for once, I was waiting for the wrong thing.

School. PE. Camp 1 and camp 2 and failing to turn up for future skating outings. Blah. (: