I’ve lost count of the number of times I’ve started and restarted writing this, just like how I used to write those letters that I’d never send, but this time I’m determined to get it out.

This is for you.

I haven’t even had that much time to get to know you. Surely the only you I’ve had the chance to get to know is the one you tell me of. The one who saw those crazed days, months, years, fly by, the one who runs, the one who hangs on for dear life, the one who loved, the one who lost, the one who laughs and makes me laugh so impossibly hard. I’ve fretted my mind into quite a knot over you, and it’s the same you that I couldn’t quite seem to push away with as much conviction as I probably should have, should you have turned out to be anyone else. I can’t quite decide what someone like you could possibly want with someone like me - I’m so .. young, I’m so green, I’m so aimless, and it’s all just one big mess that I’d never voluntarily take on.

Yet you do. You take me on with the determination of a gung-ho kamikaze bomber. You’ve taken the insane amount nonsense I’ve given you in an equally insanely short period of time, nary a complaint within earshot; simply that bemused smirk which creeps across your face like sunlight over the horizon, then finally melts away into that musical laugh as I try to tell you what’s going through my mind and end up retreating under my covers. You sit right there in your chair, legs crossed, knee resting against the table, fingers twirling your watch around when they’re not otherwise tucked in your pockets or folded across your chest. Standoffish is what you seem to like describing yourself as, yet I catch you leaning forward and perching yourself on this very precarious ledge, nonchalantly swinging your legs over the edge, cards lain out on the table. You’re ready to retreat into your shell should I so choose to request of you, but that’s not the point, is it? The point is that you’re out here, waiting for me to take your hand, even if this crashes and burns the very day after I step off that ledge with you.

It’s hard to imagine a connection of any kind ever being able to have this effect on me. Yet, when it’s you and I, from the moment you step out of the cab right up until I swoon myself to sleep, the rest of the world quietly fades away into soft focus, my mushy playlist the soundtrack for these ridiculously happy days. It’s some Photoshop-Magic-Lasso of sorts that just neatly outlines you and I, cropping the background away, leaving me lost in your world. Not that you’re going to get that analogy, seeing as you’re the dinosaur that you are, but hey that’s not so bad. Almost every kid likes dinosaurs, anyway. I know I did, and I evidently still do. :)

Remember that photo I sent you one morning? The one with the silly, ecstatic-to-the-point-of-looking-almost-crazed, drunk-looking expression on my face. (I wasn’t actually drunk, by the way.)

That’s how you make me feel.

I’m racking my brain trying to think of some way to write these words - words I’m trying to use to paint the picture of perfection that you are, yet they’re failing me. Maybe they’ve been used up in one of those long conversations that stretched on through everything and nothing, back around the universe thrice over and threatened to keep on going indefinitely, making it harder each time for me to tear my eyes off your face and go home. Time flies when I’m with you, and it’s probably about time I threw in the towel and gave up trying to put my finger on it, on what exactly it is about you that keeps me going straight back to you, as though I’ve some GPRS device (yes you now know what this is!) hardwired to my brain, programmed - and determined - to end up right back there with…

you, lost and lonely; you, strange as angels dancing in the deepest ocean, twisting in the water. You’re just like a dream.

Now Playing: Just Like Heaven by The Cure

I love having my bed to myself, but, just for a change, it’s nice to wake up next to you. :)

Now Playing: Sunday Morning by Maroon 5

I have really got to stop this stupid habit I have of not-knowing when all my dumb tests are. I suppose this insomnia-thing is coming in pretty handy - at least I know I’ll be able to study in the morning before the test (unless, of course, I end up blogging or in some other equally time-wasting venture) and I don’t ever need to worry about appearing late for the dumbass tests.

Mmrghhh.

I think I’m kinda fucked for exams. :|

Oh, the way you hold my hand
There is no other way.
We could take a thousand walks
And laugh all day.

I don’t remember the last time I was smiling and laughing so much that my cheeks were literally aching. And for days on end too. Even waking up at 0540 doesn’t keep the grouchy bunnies around for long - one call from you is all it takes to chase the blues away.

Now Playing: 1963 by Rachael Yamagata

I don’t actually like pre-empting - seeing as how Murphy has it that once you actually do put anything into writing, something changes - but I just kind of have the feeling lah. There might be a couple of emo-nemo’s on the way, and while they aren’t necessarily going to be whingey, they’ll most definitely be emo. I can feel the blubbering rise up my throat and begin to choke me, so any of you who can’t take emo, DON’T COME HERE. For a couple of days, at least. :)

PS: -swoon.

I don’t think I’m really very good with words, especially not when it comes to talking about you. You’re my best friend, probably the one constant in the past seven years or so. I don’t really remember how we started hanging out - all I remember is suddenly being in your house one day and I have no clue why I went over at all - but I’m glad we did.

I maintain that I’m one of the worst possible people in the world to be best friends with. And with you, no less. Put a worrier together with a serial-getter-into-of-scrapes (I have no idea how I should phrase that), both of whom love singing silly songs at the top of their lungs (till your mommy ca si nang-ed us), hate shopping, are too lazy to dress up (except on our birthdays!) and you get a huge mess. But you get a huge mess that I feel more comfortable in than with anyone else in the world.

This year’s the first year we’ve had to spend our birthdays apart. That’s right - no more dressing up, no more wasting money on dinners for each other (not that a cent spent on you was ever wasted), no more ridiculous presents (the year we almost made each other the same thing was just the weirdest), no more dates with my best friend in the whole wide world.

But that’s alright. Because I know you have to grow up (like I’m supposed to be doing, but I’ve conveniently forgotten to), and you’ve moved away and the only important thing to me is that you’re happy where you are. Sure, I still miss you like crazy every single day (yep, I do), but it’s alright. I can live with that. Anyway, you’ll be back at Christmas lah. Then I can go appear at your house with a week’s worth of clothes and just refuse to budge. And no, you wouldn’t have gotten fatter than me, despite how much you claim to be eating, so it’s all well and good, ‘cos you won’t be able to push me away!

You see? Everytime I try to write about how much you mean to me, something just goes wrong and I end up making silly jokes. Perhaps it’s a defense mechanism of sorts, I just try to laugh so I won’t end up feeling as miserable as I am without you.

Whatever the case, what I’m trying to say is that I love you. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, and nothing else has ever come close to that. I was so scared when you first left that we’d grow up and grow apart, and I mean I’d rather stay in Neverland than ever have to live without you somewhere close by. But we both know that can’t happen, and hey I guess it’s alright, since I still get to talk to you pretty often, and since you and I are still the you and I that we’ve always been. Maybe a little less silly (nah, not really), maybe a little less noisy (definitely not), maybe a little mellowed out (perhaps?), maybe a little closer than we were when we first started out way back when.

So here’s wishing you a happy 19th birthday, I hope you spend it surrounded by friends whom you’ve grown to know and love, filled with happiness, and knowing that there’s someone else across the globe who’s thinking of you, and counting down the days till I get to rugby-tackle you in a bearhug and drive our neighbours crazy with the amount of noise the two of us can create. Miss you like crazy.

Edit: Sorry this is so melancholic, when it should really be bouncy happy!

Now Playing: Transatlanticism by Death Cab for Cutie

I’m broke. I have no money. All I have are a shitload of things I want, and Christmas looming up. :) Okay, I know it’s not just around the corner per se, but I believe in giving you ample time to prepare, and 2 months should suffice. Looking at the price range of my very expensive present list, chances are I’m not going to get anything, but nevermind. I can always hope. Besides, you lot were rather generous roundabout my birthday! :)

Hee. Being delusional is rather fun. Ok here goes:

1. Moby Dick Bean Bag Chair

Found at Anthropology in Holland Village. (Above Thai Express) It’s so comfortable, when j. and I were there one day we just kinda slumped into the beanbags and couldn’t move. As he put it, it saps the life out of you, in a good way - that’s how comfortable it is. Once you sit down, you won’t be able to get back up. And that’s just how I want it.

Cost: About S$270.

Edit: Actually there’s a shitload of stuff I want from Anthropology. There’s this mother cool bottle opener, (caved and bought it!) the notebooks, this pen that looks like a crayon (and writes damn nicely), and all sorts of other things. I hate that place. Every time I walk in, I walk out with a new possession, and much, much poorer. So a nice alternative would just be a bunch of gift vouchers!

2. All Manner of CDs

There are so many CDs I want, it’s not even funny. Email me for a complete list. It’s too depressing to note them all down here. Besides, I’m sure I’ll have caved and bought some of them by the time Christmas comes around.

Cost: Between S$13-S$40 each.

3. iSight

I want the iSight. I’ve wanted it since I got my PowerBook. I couldn’t afford it then (okay, actually I could) and I can’t afford it now (and I really can’t afford it now). My two best friends are very far away and they’re both mac users and they both have webcams and I can see them but they can’t see me and it’s not fair because I know they miss me as much as I miss them! So somebody.. take pity on us and buy me the iSight!

Cost: S$258 from the Singapore Store. (S$237.30 if you can get the edu price!)

4. NES Buckle

Slightly less exorbitantly priced, the geek in me is screaming for these! I’ve conceded to much chiding from friends and I won’t ask for the ataris buckle (apparently the joystick is too obscene hurhur) but I still want this one!! :D

Cost: US$30, or $45 with belt. (Or you can assemble it on your own and then it’ll be a lot cheaper.)

Alrighty, I’m pretty much done being delusional by now. Anyway, even if I don’t get any of them, there are always other things to be happy for, hey? :)

But.. sigh.. I waaaaaant.

Note to self: Stop being a greedy 20 year-old!

Now Playing: All I Want For Christmas Is You by Mariah Carey

Okay maybe this is overkill. 0913 and this is my 4th post with ‘24th October 2005′ on the date stamp. But nevermind. It’s Monday and you guys need entertainment at work and in school, so self-sacrificial me shall do you the honours. :)

I just realised that in one month, my finals will be over. My papers are on the 21^st, 22^nd, and 23^rd of November, which means I am officially out of time to study for them.

Eeeeeep.

I need a beer.

Then again, alcohol + painkillers + sleeping pills = dead w., so I think I’ll just be a good girl and attempt to start studying. Like.. now.

Well, once my cramps ease up, at least. :)

So I’m a day late. I’m even 1 hour 20 minutes late by London time. BUT IT’S NOT MY FAULT! I told you to send me a picture of yourself wearing your new faaaaavourite hoodie, but you procrastinated until too late!

But I still love you and you’re still my bestest emo-whingeing pal (hurry back I think all the poor substitutes are about to shove burning coals into my mouth - and on my hands - just to get me to shut up) and I miss you so here’s a nice, sappy emorific Happy Birthday post for you!

Here’s to a wonderful year ahead, and many, many more. :)

xxx

I don’t know if I’ll ever get married, and frankly I’m quite fine with it either way. Even if I do, I don’t ever want to have kids - don’t get me wrong, I love children and all, just not for more than a couple of hours. (I think I’d make a better godmother or something, so long as there’s someone for me to return the tike to.) Besides, I have this theory that if I decide, later on, that I do want to have kids, I’d rather adopt. Seeing as how there are already so many children in the world who don’t have homes, why not give one of them a home instead of just making a whole new one?

Besides, that way you can choose. Like shopping leh! (Okay I’m kidding. Don’t send the child welfare folk after me.)

SO WHY CAN’T I HAVE A HYSTERECTOMY?!

I’m fucking bleeding my guts out for nothing, going through all this pain and suffering. I don’t want to move I don’t want to eat I don’t want to sleep I don’t want to do anything because I’m in pain oh the pain the suffering somebody please kill me now remove my uterus remove my ovaries remove everything I don’t even care if I can’t have sex (I will retract that statement when I’m in less pain) anyway having a hysterectomy doesn’t mean you can’t have sex anymore scream somebody put me out of my misery I beg you.

(Yes, it’s that time of the month again.)

I would like to be sayang-ed, please. Sniff.

Now Playing: Everybody Hurts by R.E.M.