Stifling.

I can't breathe.

The air here sits heavy on my chest. In the back of my throat. It is warm and humid and it has an annoying tendency to clog. A breath out feels blocked. A breath in, like breathing liquid mercury. It slides rather than flows into my chest and it is an audible and visible effort to expand my lungs. I blame the fact that I'm still struggling with the sensations of getting used to a new place, new weather, new everything.

I feel like I'm suffocating, slowly.

Its like the sensation of being in water up to your neck and trying to breathe. Yeah. Notice how much more difficult that is? Or is it just me? I don't know. Frankly, its probably just me.

Thank you, everyone, for being so kind to leave me encouraging words of support. They have been duly noted and are words I'll hang on to for now. 

The constant sensation that I'm being rushed, pushed, struggling against the flow continues and at times, deep within myself where there are voices that I don't even tell people about (call it my conscience or my subconscious or my alter egos or call me schizophrenic. Whatever), I hear them tell me that I'm not cut out for this. That Kiwiland has made me laid back. I'm used to the chilled-out mentality that Kiwis usually have regarding work and play and morning teas and afternoon teas and taking your time and getting yourself up to speed at your own pace. 

Not that I'm not getting any of those stuff, of course. 

I'm actually pretty lucky compared to some. So like I said, I'm probably just an ungrateful son of a bitch. 

I've got a boss who doesn't push me to do things at the moment. He gives me as much time as I need to go and do my paperwork and he tells me that its important that I get settled in and he is obviously looking out for me. I'm glad.

But its the rest of the things that get to me. Sorting out accommodation, getting my stuff delivered properly, planning for my training upcoming in less than 2 weeks time, just getting settled into Merlion City seems like a humongous chore and I can't seem to finish whatever I'm doing no matter how much I try. 

I really wished that I was here earlier. That I could take my time sorting out my accommodation and what not rather than being rushed and pushed into it. But perhaps this is where my laid-back-ness has worked against me here. Perhaps I can't be that chilled out in this country. I've got to be on the ball and go-go-go! like everyone else. No time to dream, no time to breathe, just catch myself when I fall. Pick myself up again and I'm off, into the MRT, rushing...rushing...rushing. 

I've officially been working for 2 weeks. 

I wonder what I'll be like in 2 months. 2 years. 2 decades? 

Will I even last that long? 

Just keep breathing, Poet. Just keep breathing. 

Pretend that you're not quite drowning. Not just yet.