Epilogue

Posted on June 26, 2008

Hello I am pissed wtf. What do you mean “what can you say”? There’s a million things that you can say, like ask me to change my mind, for instance. Oh I forgot. Try to question the lame “I don’t think it will work out” reason that I came up with, why don’t you?

Only because my horoscope tells me today is a good day for introspection, I’ll say this: That I would miss you a shit load because I am too self-absorbed for my own good. You showering me (chubbiness and all) with adoration, became the one thing that I turned to you for.

As much as I am still annoyed that you so easily let go of me - despite of all those premature professions of love you’ve been making - I guess I have to admit that it wasn’t fair for you because I was growing fond of you for the wrong reasons. And it would have been unfair for me to be pining for you when the fact is that you would never have had made time for us.

I’ll be okay in about two days’ time. Right now things are already looking up, because my favourite lecturer (and also the lecturer that I intend to have as my thesis supervisor next semester) gave me a RM10 per hour job to do from the comfort of my room, and it looks like I’ll be up all night working on it, after the iced long black and two iced caffe lattes I’ve had in the day.

Then I’ll go splurge on a nice handbag, and this chapter is closed for good.

Come to think of it, I am mighty proud of myself for writing a story with nothing in between the prologue and the end; then, a nice grand visual in the epilogue.

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The End

Posted on June 24, 2008

Today I woke up with an ounce of clairvoyance.

The morning rain made me want to sit out on the balcony.
It was 10.35am and my inbox did not have any unread messages.
The RM1.20 per puff currypuff that I love, tasted like shit.
There’s no cold milk (not even soybean milk) in the fridge.

Somehow, I knew all of the above, are the ingredients to a goodbye. And somehow, I am okay with being ditched. Because it was either this ending, or the alternative path, to which there isn’t an ending I can see from here. I’ll take the much simpler former option.

Because there is a good amount of affections involved, I don’t want to be the one doing the wave off. And certainly not the one to break a heart. Conversely, it is because I kinda kinda adore what I have, that I am fine with letting it go.

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Prologue

Posted on June 20, 2008

I am in an utter state of confusion, and if I allowed you on this ride of incoherence, you’ll step off throwing up all over my musings with disgust.

So for once, I shall tell a story in chronological order.

College has turned me bitter. Student council and its slew of late night unproductive meetings left a rusty aftertaste. The kind that leaves you grinding your teeth in annoyance, but you can’t quite pinpoint what’s so wrong about.

So the only meaningful thing left in campus life would be my studies. Chloe and English. Chloe the fat globe; and English, the moon that revolves around it. So if my crappy campus with its inadequate facilities was the universe, and the comfort blanket I snuggled in were English, then the blanket had better be a soft 100% cotton kind of material, and not a scratchy burlap potato sack.

I’m not even talking about luxurious Hermes silk scarves here, because I’m not looking for prestigious. Only a simple request of dependability. Cotton to make me feel right at home, and to feel like I blend in on days that I wake up a stranger.

My lecturers are, for the most part, okay. My course mates however, are not.

When my results came out last week, I had to sob over how something so simple could go so bad, and then spend the rest of the day mentally restraining myself from writing an email to my lecturer, to rat on that leech of a course mate. Right now I am calm, and just amused at how I managed to fit in 3 animals in the previous sentence.

Because I have been putting it on the pedestal, or at least I believe that’s where it belongs; every little flaw and disappointment with my academic program, becomes a magnified one, as the fall from the pedestal is a long drop.

Oh hello, I am getting nowhere near to telling why time after time, with my hands in yours, contrasted and looking fairer than they are (but that’s besides the point), I am so afraid of telling you anything, of letting you see that I can be this vulnerable person that I never was in the one month we were getting to know each other.

Next time.

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