I came up with a ridiculously long title for this post because I get a kick out of annoying people who are reading this with super long headings

Alternative title for this post: I don't know what to think.

I finally ventured out to the playground near my house after a hiatus of several months (I used to visit this playground almost every day last year).

As I was on my way - walking, of course - I realised the reason why I haven't been going there for months. It's that fear...we hear news of rape and murder with disturbing consistency these days, and I guess that fear has wormed into my mind too. And there I was, thinking about this, when I realised that there was a taxi parked right in front and the driver in the car observing me in the side rearview mirror. Gave me the creeps, and in bright sunlight and along a busy road too.

When I got to the playground, it was deserted, devoid of the usual bunch of screaming kids and chatty maids. It was empty, lonely, but I had come all the way for my much-anticipated swing and hell was I going to get it. Yes, I still play with swings in the playground. Terribly immature of me, with my sixteenth birthday approaching, but you haven't lived properly till you get a good swing. That's my opinion, anyway.

I got on the swing - small though it was, thankfully I still fit - and pushed off, feeling lonely and worried. As I swung higher and higher - till it seemed that my toes could touch the pale sky with those wispy cirrus clouds (hmm...terrible poetic imagery) - I felt the pressure lifting off my mind, pressure that had been building up for weeks.

I have been told several times today that I look stressed out. I am; I am; I am.

It's all this talk about the future. Sook Jean talking to me about doing Actuarial Science after SPM, several Serojians waiting breathlessly for the ASEAN results...it's not much, but those things irk me, upset me unnecessarily and without rhyme or reason.

I sat on that swing, going higher and higher, eyes fixed on that stretch of sky...and then the weirdest emotions threatened to spill out; I wanted to cry and laugh at the same time. I am going to sit for SPM this year, and I'm on the brink of leaving school - but at the same time, I find time to play on the swings and I am still not ashamed of swinging myself like a little kid, all on my own.

And with the empty atmosphere of the playground, like a forsaken and forgotten place in the middle of busy Subang Jaya, I felt like crying then and there. But I didn't; it wasn't the right place to do so. I had the strangest feeling of being watched, but when I turned to look back, no one was there, and I was relieved, but still uneasy.

Believe me, playgrounds can be the loneliest - and nicest places to go to when you're stuck for inspiration - especially when there isn't anyone about.

Playing on the swings this time wasn't a good experience: I felt so free swinging up like that, like an innocent little girl without worries, but then thoughts of my future and the imminent SPM trials snake in and ruin everything.

I thought I was free, then I fell back to earth abruptly, only to realise that freedom...

...could be just an illusion.