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Friday, January 11, 2008
Sing Sang Sunk

Promise me that you will not tell anyone what I wore on Christmas Eve. Promise?



*

‘I am pathetic,’ I typed a short message to R on Christmas Eve.

‘Surely not as pathetic as me.’

‘Oh yeah? I am in bed at 8 p.m. iBook on lap, watching senseless tv on Christmas Eve.’

‘I’m home too.’

‘What the fuck happened to me? Promise me that you will not tell anyone what I wore on Christmas Eve, ok. Jatuh saham (trans: lose stock value).’

After exchanging more than ten messages, we both agreed that we were too lazy to join the long jam. Can you believe it? I involuntarily volunteered to be alone at home on Christmas Eve. I wouldn’t mind it that much if I had some hot hunk but I was sat in bed all on my own. Actually I didn’t mind sitting in bed at all. I needed all the rest that I got.

Not so long ago, I club hopped on my own, joining different groups of friends in nothing but sexy lace.



*

Somehow everything feels bland in my mouth. Nothing tastes sweet anymore. Is it really true that everything tastes like nothing when I don’t have you? And that love will make even the bitterest experience sweet and it is also love that takes away everything beautiful.

I don’t know if you have noticed but I am escaping somesort. I am avoiding the topic that I do not want to mention. I seriously do not think that I am able to deal with this at the moment. Each time I think about it, my heart sinks and tears will flow uncontrollably. I have lost count the times when secret tears ran down my cheeks - at work, while driving, during dinner at my parents, afternoons in a busy shopping mall, quiet moments at 3:11 a.m. all alone. I woke up at 3:11 a.m. exactly for the past 2 weeks.

‘I can’t do this anymore.’

I practiced that line a million times. Each time I say it, I will hear Alex mew a little ‘babs’. To be precise, I imagine him pursing his lips, eyes cast down with a squeak ‘baaa-aaabs’ and it kills me each time.

Every and every time. And even now as I recall this, tears roll down. Damn those tears.




*

It sometimes feels easier to severe major arteries than with him who makes you sing in your darkest hour.

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