i'm still learning the art of being alone. how do you go from being with someone for two years (not counting the friendship prior) to being alone without becoming a bit of an emotional nut. but i am relieved it's over because while i did love him, i don't think i loved him enough. i love what i can't have and i had him, but i didn't - couldn't - have someone else.

it's been three years since i moved here and i still spend most days (when my mind isn't preoccupied with something else) thinking of the tattoos, the stars, the smoke, the guitars - thrice and deadbolt. as much as i adored him, i couldn't have him, because at the moment when i was finally happy - next to him, blowing smoke - daddy decided to take it all away and move us here; and now, all i'm left with is the memory of burger king's cheese sticks drenched in chili sauce, the large sprite beside me and him asking about my hand - how others had asked to hold it. maybe i should have grabbed his hand instead of sitting on mine, maybe i should have thanked him for talking to me even though i sounded like a frog (that's the day we first met, when had i lost my voice due to my incessant partying. it was 'boxing day' if i remember correctly - that's the day after christmas to all those non-british colonized people), maybe i should have told him i was ready. maybe i should have done lots of things, but i didn't, because i didn't know then that we were moving. i thought i still had time.

as cheesy as it may sound, i remember melting, and gushing, and being all giggly, when 2004 rolled around. amidst the hugging, the crazy strings, and screams of the new year, he texted. the stars here are beautiful, it read, and they're all for you (note: he spent the countdown at a beach in Sentosa while i stayed in orchard road). i eww-ed, stuck my tongue out, and jumped around in disgust as my best friend and i laughed about his silliness; but inside, i was really melting, and gushing, and being all giggly. who says stuff like that? it's like a line off some teeny-lovey-princessey movie. seriously, who says stuff like that?, i remember saying to may, as i watched her double over, clearly amused by everything. but that's the thing, no one says stuff like that anymore. everyone deems it cheesy and corny and stupid, but that was what made it gush-worthy - because no one says stuff like that, at least to me anyways. i couldn't help but adore him more, cheesiness and all.

then it was time to move. he didn't send me off at the airport nor did he bother to say goodbye (i had to be the one to call him), but he did promise me one last date a few days prior my flight. that didn't happen, he got sick and i got on the plane. the last time i went back, we both had somebody; but now that we're both single, i can't help but still hold him to that promise - even though i'm pretty sure that he has forgotten it by now, along with our argument about a star on the beach.

this is why i don't go to the beach anymore. the reason i always tell people, whenever they ask, is that the beach is basically dirt - who willingly rolls around in dirt? but the truth is, the sand between your toes, the winking stars above, the caress of the wind - it brings back the face, the smoke, and all the feelings associated with them. then i fall, and i just can't stop falling.

me and my stupid obsession with what i can't have - it kills me. and because i like killing myself, here i am (once again) liking someone i can't have. but it's okay. he makes a nice distraction, and really, that's all i need.

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