you get your FYP mate telling you that you’ve appeared on ST Urb*n.
Then you start fretting over what she means when she says “Hey go check out Urb*n! You’ve appeared in it!”
My first response was “Huh?! Where? What? Why?” and most importantly, “How?!!”
The next response was, “Was I photographed, unknowingly and unglamly, wearing mismatched tops? Having a bad hair day? Rolling my eyes?”…
(Yesterday a colleague told me, jokingly, that my top made me look like Peter Pan, and I was so tempted to throw my bowl of yong tau foo soup at her.
I so cannot take jests like this.
Fortunately, she went on to talk about how another colleague looked like an angbao and kueh lapis (?!), so I could save that yong tau foo soup for my stomach.)
But I digress.
Having learnt that I “have appeared on ST Urb*n”, my palms started turning cold and sweaty, and my heart began racing like crazy.
(It kinda rhymes, doesn’t it?)
It was only when the FYP mate told me that my “appearance” was only an indirect one with no names (no photographs, either) mentioned that I started to calm down a little.
And with the help of topo – who sought the help of ~y~, I managed to find out that it was nothing unglam (no, i wasn’t photographed sleeping in the MRT with my mouth wide open), and that it was kinda sweet.
Reading that article brought back memories, good ones, happy ones, sweet ones, sad ones..
I still remember that MRT ride, that watch, that box of paper cranes which you’d claimed would bring me good luck, that sandwich sent to my door, those smses right after the tuition sessions..
I guess the bad, and good, thing about life, is that it cannot, and need not, be relived.
I can probably never understand why some things are simply not meant to be.
And life would always hold little regrets, though it is often in these regrets where memories are the most beautiful..
I cannot, and would not, describe how it’d felt to read about myself, in the writings by someone whom I still wish I’d never hurt.
I still feel sorry sometimes, that there were things I’d wished I could, yet could never do.
Whatever it is, I was, have always been, and will always be thankful, that our paths have crossed, for the long two years and the short two months.
To me, you will always be that FHM, that humorous, witty and sensitive guy whom I’d once felt comfortable talking to, that one person who’d taught me graciousness, and what it meant to love and be loved.
Thank you.
Wherever you are, I hope you are, and will always be, happy.
Thursday, February 02, 2006
weeirdism 