Soulmate. Check, Mate.

This lovely lady turned 26 years old yesterday. Truly the nicest, prettiest, most efficient, kick-ass Doctor I have had the pleasure of knowing this lifetime :) And don't let anyone convince you otherwise, Dr. L X Wong. 

Fortunately the events of our last birthday bash from January in Balham (read: mine) didn't prevail. No drunkard lapse of memory, no massive hangover, no incessant vomiting. Thankfully. 

We had a very fun-filled rest of the evening catching up on matters close to the heart, with responsible drinking. And in the end, one or two revelations struck me in the early hours of that morning as I was trudging home (my first late night in FOREVER!)

It occurred to me that the last time I went to bed at 5 am (or even 6 am) was almost ages ago. That was when I discovered I could speak to someone for a record 8 or 9 hours on end without feeling like a minute had passed. 

Last night, I discovered that the record was very much breakable. I could execute the same feat perfectly well with a group of my close friends, and for the first time, I realised that it was equally AS enjoyable. And that blurry image of a scene of cheap beer and incessant laughter was really all in the mind. 

After a whole night of exchanging tales, of priceless advice and of convincing each other that it never pays to be 'too nice', we are left with the one tag line everyone has been telling me since the beginning of time, that when you meet 'THE ONE', you just know. It's as simple as that. There is this thing called 'indescribable chemistry'. And there is also this thing called 'Timing'. Timing can be a bitch, but hey, sometimes she lets up and things actually do work out. 

To which I obstinately thought, I have been increasingly cynical over the years, but I have no doubts about that statement. 

Because I am sure that I have experienced that chemistry, and I have met that person. I might not have been his, but he sure was mine. I know how it feels when everything just seems so right, even if the brutal truth is that it only remains that way in your head. But as with most circumstances that I have come to realise the hard way over the years, it isn't enough for just love to bind two people together anymore. Sometimes, reality sucks. 

But I'm not into making sweeping declarations or premature dramatic gestures. That just isn't me. So as with everything in life these days, we shall wait and see. And I'm hopeful that one day, I will be able to tick it off as one of the things on my list and go:

Soulmate?

Check. 

Yes. Check, mate. 

An Orthopaedic Heart

I once told a Gastro Registrar that my career choices lay between Surgery and Cardiology.

"What? Those two couldn't be more different."

"Really? What's the difference between surgeons and medics?"

"About 50 IQ points," he said. Typical Medical Registrar answer.

"What kind of surgery?"

"Orthopaedics."

I think he decided I was insane after that and walked off.

And then Mr. Agassi solved the mystery for me. Finally. Someone who found a similarity between the two. There must be a reason why I love Orthopaedics and why I equally love Cardiology.

In 1993, Andre Agassi was plagued with a ripping, searing pain in his wrist. His Doctor diagnosed him with Tendinitis. Specifically, Dorsal Capsulitis. Tiny rips in the wrist that refused to heal. The result of overuse.

A while later, the twentysomething Andre Agassi broke up with his girl of the moment. He told his trainer he felt shooting pains in his chest.

Sounds like a typical broken heart, was the response. Tiny rips in the heart that refuse to heal. The result of overuse.

(Open - Andre Agassi, An Autobiography)

Profoundly apt, in more ways than one. These days, my heart is set in bone. Yes, you read it correctly. A heart of bone. Notice how I am realistic, as such, because when bones fracture, we can fix them. Internally or externally. Outcomes are astounding. The less compound the fracture of the heart, the better it heals. Ah, now I see the perks of being an Orthopod. You see, you fix, you revel in a sense of fulfillment. Who knows, what career paths are to arise yet. It is a long road ahead as such. Cardio God or Orthopod, I welcome both with open arms.

But for now, let's focus on this.....or more appropriately, this case of an Orthopaedic Heart.

Dear 16-Year-Old Self...

In between some random surfing of the web and procrastinating, I came across some blog posts that then inspired me to write one of my own: a letter to my 16-year-old self, a stroll down memory lane to reassure that teenage girl back then about the ups and downs that had seemed larger than life again.

Dear 16-Year-Old Shing,

When December finally swung around and Form 4 finally ended, I know it seemed like all too much of a relief because that ridiculously long and tumultuous year felt like it would never end. Firstly, I wish I could have given you a good shaking in the beginning back then when you started off the year taking Form 4 for granted, just because you thought topping the class for the past 10 years before was a sure-win even though you knew very well that you were being placed in a highly-pressurised environment with all the other straight A students from the other classes.

And even though it was good that you finally gathered your wits about you and went on to maintain the straight A's that were so expected of you, but I wish you could have had someone like me to tell you back then that no matter how brilliant you were in High School, no matter how many straight A1's you scored in SPM later on, or during your A-Levels, no one could ever have predicted the slump in intellect and discipline when you entered Medical School....when you were in the same class as 300 other aspiring doctors who are 10 times smarter and sharper than you.

Having said that, Shing, it is no good to harp on the negatives. You should dwell on the positives while you still can. Amidst those chatting / note-writing sessions you had with your bestie Manda during Sejarah lessons, BM lessons and more, despite how many times teachers might have caught you guys out for not paying attention: believe me when I say this, you should have spent MORE lessons gossiping with Manda instead of listening to the Sejarah lesson drone on and on.

Because you would not have come to realise in those days of seeing her for 8 hours or more EVERY single day, that one day would come when the two of you would be half a world apart, and that the last time you saw each other would be 4 whole years ago.

And the same would apply for your other amazing girl friends. At this point you will not know it yet, but a time will come when you realise that everyone has moved on leading their own lives, turning into hotshot architects, lawyers, physiotherapists and doctors, but the one thing to be grateful for is that you have still been able to see Voon on an annual basis, for standard Kch-style NYE Celebrations that go down in history. And a day will come when you are thankful that this bond between the two of you.....this Best Fried - Best Boiled bond, has not wavered, thanks to the fact that she will one day move back to Kch to be that hot-shot architect that you always knew she would be.

Fast forward a couple of years down the line, and you will realise, that no matter where your life takes you, your heart will always stay in Kch. And that you would be eternally grateful for those God-given amazing friends that have been around to hopefully, last a lifetime.

Of course at 16, you would not know this, because you have worn that same freaking school uniform for the past 4 years or so and you can't wait to be rid of it. But that year of Form 5 after this would fly by as though it never had before, and you would take off to the UK, where you always knew you would end up. Parent biasness, what can I say? Lol.

And at 16, you would not anticipate the 2 years after that would be the most incredible years of your life. I wish I could have flagged it up to you now, so you could have been ready to make the most out of your CC days. Because this was where you would meet the best friends in your life, who would go on to touch your life in so many ways, and leave such a huge mark.... that although most of them would eventually move on and away....back to Malaysia or to Singapore to continue achieving great things in life: you know that these are friendships that are made to last. God knows what would have happened had you not crossed paths the first day with Jenn in the airport, and had not later met Hanna, Rex & Noemi....and eventually, grown closer to CK, WL and Munchkin.

And of course, the most important thing to say to you, at 16 years old, would be that you would eventually achieve that life-long dream of yours to enter medical school, and with God's will, finally become a doctor next year.

Whether or not you will become that Neurosurgeon that you aspired to be at 14, or the Cardiologist you later realised was potentially more realistic, that is a matter to be discussed years further on. I will update you again when I have hit 35, whether or not you ended up doing Internal Medicine or Surgery or *gasp* dare I say it.....Obs & Gynae!

At Med School, you would go on to meet a whole cohort of other amazing people. None of whom you could have travelled a journey this difficult and this far without.

There is no 'What if....' that comes along with what would have happened if you had not met Pei Hua, or Yuan Lih or LX, because it would be difficult to describe and imagine you without them. You see, you have yet to know it now, but they will go on to understand you in every way, be it to catch you when you fall into the darkest of holes, or laugh along at every lame attempt at a joke you make.

So nonetheless, my dear 16-year-old girl, I am sure it has transpired now that you needn't have worried about getting along with people and finding friends whom you can click with after leaving the comfort zone of Kch and Lodge. God is kind on you, and you will have a comfortable circle of friends through thick and thin wherever you go.

As for matters of the heart though, that is another page in the book. I wish I could have told you back when you were 16 that those minor 'heartaches' that you suffered from the random high school crushes, the moments when your heart would go into AF when you saw that one crush.....hard as it is to imagine now, is something that you would possibly have liked to hold on to more tightly. Because High School crushes were the days of being 'bright and shiny', and you would realise that when later on, many a guy was to cross your path and produce blow after blow to your heart that you wondered whether you could possibly feel again in this state of trauma.

You would not have known at 16, when your one major high school crush left school, that you guys would ever see or speak to each other again. Who knew that years along the line, you guys would be even better friends than before, and that he would ironically be the one constant 'guy' there for you throughout tears and heartbreaks from all those others. You might have wished you had taken more initiative to treasure the high school days spent with him then, but not to worry. You guys will continue to be friends for a long time coming.

For better of for worse, I would urge you to be fully optimistic, because there is surely one guy out there... somewhere in this huge world who is completely in sync with you, and when the time comes, you will KNOW without a doubt, idealistic as this might seem. But then again, at 16 you should be full of hopes and dreams. Cynicism will come later. Don't rush it.

I know this is a whole lot to take in, literally....and at 16, I hope your English is as up to par as it would be later on. No worries though, I think you would have read alot more at 16 to add to your vocab than you would later on when your brain is even failing to take in short excerpts of medical blurb.

But the end point is this: that at 16, you would not have known what the world beholds, 10 years down the line. And unless you had a Crystal Ball, the best way is to live every day to the fullest, and put in your everything to achieve whatever you aspire to do this lifetime.

In terms of growing up though, do not fret. I can assure you that you will mature year by year, as tedious a process as it might be, as painful a lesson as you might come across on the way, to eventually be a down-to-earth, worldly, 25-year-old young lady. Poised, grounded and possibly with a flair for fashion.

We will speak again another 10 years from now, perhaps. Until then, take care. Hang in there. You are in for one hell of a ride!

The Simple Things

Although this time around, my trip back to Londres did not involve as bad a dip in mood as over summer, nothing here could have replaced the times I had back home, short as they were.

People ask why I keep going back during the holidays. Firstly, to see my family...and more importantly this time, my brother whose holidays and mine don't coincide very often. Secondly, because no Kch holiday experience has failed to deliver yet throughout these years.

So by the time Saturday swung around and reality sunk in that I was back in this rainy, windy, chilly city, I was feeling a little peaky, as always although not so much the bad SAD I had before the break.

And then you made me smile again :)

The excitement I professed over Gtalk and over BBM was genuine, nonetheless. And when I woke up this morning to another message that was so you, I realised that this was the one time in a very long time that I had woken up with a smile on my face.

As much as so many other things have gone wrong, as much as we might lament about what 'might have been', I am thankful as much that this strange, special bond of a friendship we share might just about be one of the few things that I have done right in this lifetime.

Ahhh Zhin. All the way from the topic of High School Crushes to being the one who never failed to lend me a virtual shoulder to cry on each time my heart was broken. And to think the only time we ever met up properly was almost 4 years ago.

Note to self: I need to get my arse over to Melb some time soon.

One of Those Days

Today is one of those days. A little bit of the weather and not seeing the sun the entire day, plus a cauldron of unspoken emotions deep within and I guess, just the dire routine of going to Epsom - although ironically today was one of the days that I probably accomplished more.

Got my procedure signed off, got the general sign off from the attachment.

What else more?

Today should be a happy day.

But instead I'm feeling completely out of it.

Yes, I could go on about how Med School is tough, how my level of enthusiasm fluctuates from time to time, how I should have been pleased today that I successfully described and recognised an SVT from an ECG in A&E (woots Cardio), or how I actually got around to doing some hands-on stuff in theatre on Monday. But sometimes it's not really about Med School in general.

It's just me. And today is one of those days that I would like to just curl up in a ball and disappear.

I Dream a Dream

So after ten thousand years, I FINALLY got around to watching Inception last night.

One word: AMAAAAAZING.

I was afraid my attention might shift from time to time during the movie, seeing how lengthy it was and because I was suffering from some post-prandial drowsiness, but I did not drift ONE bit.

The bad thing though, was that when it had all ended, I started thinking how a movie like that could actually mess with the minds of people. Those who were, perhaps, slightly disturbed, or weaker than others - who had a mountain of emotional baggage riding on their shoulders, i.e. Marion Cotillard's character in the movie.

A dream within a dream within a dream.

Three layer dreams. Who would have thought. Hats off to the one who devised and wrote out this idea on script. I could never have thought it possible no matter how much I sharpened my literary skills (which have now turned to a mush).

Not even the slightest possible shrivel of hope, but I could not help wishing that I could wake up one day and all the shit that had happened in the past had just turned out to be one.....no, make that THREE huge bad dreams. And that the day that I wake up, I would just be in my comfortable old bed in my familiar old room in Kch, snoozing away....and that time would just have moved past an hour.

Sometimes I look at myself and I dread to think how much of the old Alyssa Sim has disappeared into nothingness, because every bit of an obstacle that topples me off my well laid-out path has brought me further and further from the person I once knew - some in ways that could be medal-deserving, others in ways that are possibly heart-wrenching, to say the least.

When Mal echoed "You said you had a dream that we would grow old together", I couldn't help but feel for her.

And then I remembered when hpy said how he would look back at his old photos and realise that he could never smile back the way he used to anymore. I look back at mine and think that I look like a shadow of the past.

Hpy had a dream that he was rolling in money. I had a dream that all the mistakes I had made in the past year or two had been just one hell of a nightmare.

But ahh.....what's to say. We wake up. Nothing has changed an iota. Reality sucks, my dear.

Lost, and Found

This wall was one of the few things that I loved best at the Tate Britain. LX and I spent a good 15 minutes staring at all four walls, trying to figure out which quotes we liked best.

So many of them struck chords deep in the heart. A couple actually sent a shiver down my back.

If I had four empty walls in an empty room, I would do the same.

For the first time in ages, the GG episode triggered something within. Remarkable, by GG standards because it has been churning out empty-headed stuff for a very very long time. When Vanya declared his reason for loving Dorota being that he was 'the best possible person' whenever he was with her, I teared with Blair. When B went out to proclaim that she did not like who she had become with Chuck, my heart went out to her.

Deja Vu. I am reminded of the scene in the bar last Monday when we were drinking into the dead of the night - a feat which I still hold as a true accomplishment, with me leaving at 3.30 am and waking up at 7.30 am the next morning for PBL.

JH's evident disappointment and vehement declaration of my momentary lapse of judgement at a certain point in time triggered irrational emo responses on my part. I was defeated. Emotionally and verbally.

But all is not lost. Like he said, We all learn from our mistakes. Such is life.

From trying to become someone I was not, to losing sight of my priorities, to trying to mould something into shape that we never meant to be.....to paying a price in the end.

From someone lost, to someone found.

I am almost completely there. Welcome back, Alyssa Sim. And hopefully you will be here to stay forever and always.

People Change, Places Stay The Same

My laments to JH about how quickly time just zoomed by were completely genuine. Indeed, it had seemed like just a while ago that we had watched the first leg of Liverpool vs Man Utd for this season. Who would have thought that that was all the way back in October.

How much had changed since then?

Liverpool had gotten progressively worse, to the point of possibly no return. From Champions League title contenders to the Europa League.

The dreary English weather had turned from its unbearable frostiness to sunny, bright skies and more amicable temperatures (bar yesterday's rain).

The company with which we watched the first match had been modified drastically as well. How ironic was it that at the end of the day, it was only JH and I who remained the constants in this silent film of scenes changing through time.

I told JH I refused to visit the same 'GG.COM' bar that we had watched the first leg in, for reasons that were blatantly obvious, to me and him. I didn't want to be reminded of a time of transient happiness, only to be in the same environment and realise the brutal reality of the present.

So we rewrote memories. And these will be around to stay for a very long time.

Even though Liverpool played horrendously and offered no real threat at all after Torres's goal at the 5th minute. Even though the final score justified defeat compared to the first leg's triumphant victory of 2-0. Even though the only possible real entertainment of the entire match was watching JH squeal with excitement about Park Ji Sung and letting him 'educate' me about how superior Man Utd was to Liverpool. Even though my good luck vibes did not work at all this time around. Even though I had not followed football in so long that my knowledge had deteriorated beyond mention....

I would say that this time I was able to leave the place with a genuine smile.

And remember that Man Utd vs Liverpool will always be associated with only the best memories ever, even if they are not in Liverpool's best interest.

I think we have definitely come full circle. Period.

Happy Birthday, Superstar

Because this turned out to be one of the better birthdays I've had so far, out of my expectations.... thanks to all my BFF's :)

And because all this could not have been possible if I didn't have a superstar BFF like you.

Memoirs II

I once blogged about the power of the mind and the incredible, almost tangible picture that one can relive by fusing the mere memory of something with pictures and words.

Then I realised I had forgotten one major element in the recreation of this 'picture'.

Music.

There are a great many songs on my iTunes playlists that can transport me back to a certain scene and recreate that very picture right before my eyes, larger than life. And not just those labelled 'Our Song' or 'The Song That Reminds Me Of You' but random snippets of music where I can actually see, remember....and feel.

I revealed to a friend recently that BoyzIIMen's 'Four Seasons of Loneliness' will always remain one of my all time favourites. Simply because it has travelled with me through 5 years of my life and watched a great love turn into horrendously ugly drama and then settle back into an unbreakable bond of friendship.

This is the song that saw me through the days of 'Alyssa's Songs' on our iPods, the days of DJ-ing, of chatting in the dead of night till the sun rose, and more recently, of you being the selfless friend you were and comforting me in the most ironic of situations when I needed you most. And so it is that when I listen now... instead of the choked-back feelings and pent-up emotions that could not be expressed....I listen with an open heart, and smile back on the good, colourful moments of it all.

Then again, there are a great many things that can evoke the strangest and most irrational of emotions in one's mind, overruling the universal fact of mind over body. Because it is only human for your heart to react completely differently from the way you plan it to.

For a day or two, it was the blatant thought of having only yourself to rely on that struck in a place where the wound couldn't be seen. The emptiness of that gloved hand in the cold December rain. The purple umbrella and the swirl of events that came to play prior and latter to that. All these reignited this feeling of choking-back a zillion emotions, of choking back bile, and of that sheer emptiness somewhere within.

For a good 3 days, I avoided listening to 'Superhuman' on my player. The story of how I got to know of this song, how I came to love it, how we listened to it on repeat - this was a long story that I would easily have let to brew in the past. But age and experience have taught me to bottle up my thoughts and sweep them under a rug, and to not talk about them - or rather, to choose not to talk about them.

And so I decided point blank that there is a time to cease all silly obsessions. At the end of the day, when I have decided enough is enough and I will only shed this many tears for this man of the moment, because this is all it is worth, I realise it is easier achieved than I had deemed possible.

So I listened to the song for a good many times, determined to halt this phobia of songs which had the ability of planting an array of moments I had once deemed 'happy' before my very eyes. Happy moments which were no longer to be, and never to be.

And when I felt nothing, I took that step further. Stripping off all my sheets and finally changing them because I knew.....I knew that that wafting scent of Hugo Boss in my room was a mere phantom smell, and that there is a time to stop recreating memory as such in your head. Especially when these memories have been induced by a broken heart.

When the cloud has lifted and you see, you SEE clearly. There is a time to do what is right rather than what you would preferrably wallow in. What is meant to be or not meant to be. I may be a skeptic for now and will forever be guarded against further matters of the heart, but maybe....maybe one day I will believe again, and hopefully along the way I will cease to meet people who continuously obliterate all that is left of those few shreds of optimism within.

This Feeling

"When I was a little girl, my life was just music that was getting louder and louder.

Everything moved me.

A dog following a stranger. That made me feel so much.

A calendar showing the wrong month. I could have cried over it.

Where the smoke from a chimney ended. How an overturned bottle rested on the edge of the table."

- Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close

I spent my latter years after that trying to feel less.

Everyday was about feeling less. Everyday I feel less.

Is it growing old? Or is it something worse?

They say you can't protect yourself from sadness without protecting yourself from happiness.

Maybe it's time to let that go.

Leaving

Last night I turned down going to dinner because I was knackered from a gung-ho afternoon of teaching at the hospital and I basically had not finished my ACS Presentation for my consultant tomorrow yet. And also because I had been misinformed or misunderstood somehow and thought that K was leaving on Saturday instead.

A part of me was horrified that he was leaving today instead, and that I would probably never see him again. Then again, a part of me silently agreed that I had done the right thing and had not gone to see him 'one last time' before he left.

I called K last night to talk to him before he left and for some reason, my voice broke off halfway and wavered dangerously in the midst of my sentence.

"I can't believe you're leaving for good. It seems like just yesterday that I met you and we became such good friends."

Sporadic though I must admit our conversations have been over the past 2 years or so, it is impossible to deny that he was always there for me, through my darkest moments, through tears and laughter, and through the quotes he left me for encouragement that sometimes did not make sense at all!

So many people enter and leave your life.

Hundreds of thousands of people.

You have to keep your door open so they can come in.

But it also means you have to let them go.

So much for never being an emo wreck when it comes to friends.

Thank you for everything all these years xxx

Transitioning Through Time? Or Not

While talking to some friends last night, I realised, at that moment, how much I had changed as a person, along with my interests and habits.

I remember a time in the not-so-distant past when I loved Classical music. I loved going for concerts and worshipped anyone who played the violin well. When I later took up the flute and was made a part of the orchestra for the opening ceremony of a certain church, it was the best thing that had happened to me, indefinitely.

As of now, I have not touched my flute for a good 4 years. My piano reminds shut beneath its dusty lid in Malaysia. And when F brought up the idea that I could get a keyboard and use headphones to play here, I bit my tongue to prevent myself from saying that I had completely lost interest in everything music-related.

I remember a time when I knew absolutely everything and anything about football. The EPL, The Bundesliga, The Serie A, The World Cup.....name the tournament and the team, and chances are that I could break down a short analysis of tactics and styles for you in great depth. Now, it has been months since I have watched an EPL match on TV. Name me any other EPL team besides Liverpool and I would not be able to provide you with much input at all, apart from *gasp!* 'How CAN you say Liverpool sucks?!'

Then there was the time when I loved writing. I wrote short stories, proses, poems, articles about my opinions on life, and later blog entries....and everything seemed to flow naturally from the tips of my fingers on to the keyboard. I loved reading, and I loved writing, so much so that it was almost a daily thing to do without further thought to it.

Now, when I think of writing, my mind is blank from inspiration. I feel nothing, I know nothing, I care about nothing besides the mound of work piling up around me and making and organising my notes into files.

A few years ago, I had a love-hate relationship with David Gray's song 'This Year's Love', simply because I had started off hating the song, only to move on to a time when listening the song could put a wistful look on my face.

A couple of days ago, I came across the MV on someone's blog and decided to watch it, just because I had never seen it before. A good minute or so into the song, I decided to close the window because I was bored out of my wits.

I am a person of many extremes. And after all of the above, I realise how fickle I can be when it comes to my obsessions or flinging off stuff into my 'Been there, done that' box. Sometimes I wonder how it is that I spent years of my life labelling this guy as 'fickle' or 'absolutely having no idea about what he wants' when I am about three levels worse than him myself.

Again, another case of the pot calling the kettle black.

Familarity Breeds Contempt

Or so I have heard once or twice, and would probably have been caught up unnervingly in an unpleasantly vicious cycle, had Noemi not told me to STOP right there, because Hell No....when you hate a person so much, you might just end up with him/her.

Let this be the end of contempt, for God's sake.

Where has all the time gone?

In the flash of an eye, it is suddenly December....all too soon.

November flew by as though I had never seen it occur, and when I look back on the past term, everything seems to be a blurry of events.

Sometimes I really do look back and wonder: Where has all the time gone?

Adults we are. Responsible, grounded, rational people we are expected to become.

Yet I still fluctuate.....flitting in between my own world of denial where everything is hidden beneath a facade of sarcastic jokes and laughter, and the real world where things are not as fine and dandy as they seem.

Much of life recently has been about rethinking priorities. Reorganising routines that I have become accustomed to for too long. Straightening out the messy bits of life and re-evaluating the words 'happiness', 'necessities', 'aims' and 'wants'.

While alot of the 'new life' has been about really connecting with Medicine and getting in touch wiht a side of me I had never seen before, for a moment there, out of the blue, it almost seemed as though you were a ghost from the past, appearing to haunt me in this one-off occasion.
How wrong was the capactiy.....the context.....the reality of it.
When one could have equated you with all of the above in the past, it is clearer than ever now that you were never meant to be here to stay.

You remind me

It is strange how it materialised out of the blue....the tiny details that reminded me of you.

The Converse sneakers, the small mannerisms, the slightest of dressing details...even the glasses.

The only saving grace was that when he opened his mouth, his voice was as different to yours as night is to day.

Unfortunately, instead of nostalgia, emotion this time around arrived in the form of intense dislike, annoyance and distaste for everything he did.

Eventually, I realised that these were phantom images that I could choose to see or not to see. And with the growing guilt from the multitude of withering looks and snarky remarksI had thrown at the poor, clueless boy, I decided to let these deranged moments go.

On this totally un-emo note, I just find it amazing how things change in life. Heh.

Such as how you and I have come such a long way from being best friends to complete strangers.

PS: I know this blog is dead. Have some pics that I'm waiting for that I will update asap :)

Much Love~

On my playlist, the ever-familiar strains of Zhou Jie Lun are abruptly interrupted by the familiar pelting of rain....pouring down yet again, and out of nowhere, I suddenly wonder how much colder it possibly is where you are right now....

I'm suddenly stirred by indescribable emotions.....a jolt of Deja Vu, perhaps?

An image of sitting on a bed, listening to 'Wo Bu Pei' over and over again, me demanding praises for the song in between pauses....that unspoken familiarity engulfing everything around.

I annoy myself, keeping a tab on my emotions only to have them fall haphazardly around me within seconds.

Because sometimes, for you, I would rather this always end at never.

Wo Bu Pei

I have reached a new level of addiction to Zhou Jie Lun's new song, even by my standards. Lol.

"If only you weren't Zhou Jie Lun..."

And I echo these thoughts, precisely.

Was it always meant to be of this surreptitious, clandestine manner?

An indifferent mask, displayed to the public....and yet, beneath it....a zillion and one secrets that we reverred in.

Because sometimes I wonder....if I were to bury my head in a hole in the ground so that I wouldn't be able to see you, would you pretend that you couldn't see me too?

Memoirs

Memory is a strange thing. It seems to capture images as a whole, refusing to omit the tiny, specific details that might, possibly....no longer be there.

And so it is that when I turn my head to the right towards the row of wooden bleachers next to me, I still half expect to see you, in all familiarity amidst the bouncing of the black rubber ball off the walls and the scuffling of court shoes on the wooden floors.

Or that I can still see, through the smoke and throngs of people pushing in front of me, your profile on the couch next to mine, your voice echoing through the incessant boom of loud music in my ears.

Oh how easy it is to OD on these images. These images that are now just pictures. Painted pictures breathing a life of their own...moving haphazardly through the sky. And in that brief moment that I reach out to touch them, they are gone.

Or not.

Because sometimes remembering will lead to a story. A story that seemingly lasts forever.

And that's what stories are for....for when all has disappeared, and there is nothing left that is tangible....except that story of my life.

'A woman's heart is like an ocean full of secrets'.

Someone once commented that I must have been born in the wrong era of music and movies. I seem to be stuck in the 90's when it comes to the entertainment industry. With the exception of Zhou Jie Lun and R&B of course.

But a vast majority of my favourite films of all time exist from the 90's.

And recently, I downloaded Titanic to rewatch again.

My friend told me I was mad.

I found it strangely captivating, especially the last bit when she was going down and everything was finally coming to an end...lost under thousands of feet of icy, cold water.

Then I realised all the times that I had been feeling pensive over what I had 'lost' the past 1 and a half years, was in fact, a misconception.

Instead I realise now I had voluntarily thrown it out of my life.

When I dreamt that I had been shot, I also dreamt that you saved me. And that came to my mind, a split second after I woke up, still reeling from the shock and thinking that it was real. For a moment, I was strangely comforted, and then the feeling passed.

I never realised how much I had relied on you until you ceased to exist. I guess you were the one who was around, most of the time, when turmoil and tension weren't boiling forth by the minute. But you never really did much, except be THERE.

And that's just not enough anymore, is it?