I thought a few-months of drinking and pigging has finally caught up and got into me. Standing naked in front of the bathroom mirror, the evidence of pigging was apparent. Nothing seemed to interest me for the past few months. I knew the reason and have tried to let go the earthy anger, disappointment and jealousy.

I thought of going home because it was mid autumn festival (not “mooncake” festival). My mum missed me a great deal. She said she was thinking about me every night. We ended chatting over the phone for almost an hour. I knew she was aware I have been depressed and frustrated. She knew me too well because I would run away from her if I was feeling lousy. It was pretty obvious to her. As expected, she did not talk about things that would frustrate me. The entire conversation was littered with her cliché questions and concerns.

Yes, these were sufficiently therapeutic.

I asked my mum whether I have been a fool.

She simply replied, “No lar….silly.”

Yes this was sufficiently therapeutic.

I’m sorry, I uttered.