Unfortunately I have been reminiscing.
Unfortunately I have been reminiscing.
Our first date at the planetarium, how I thought he looked funny in his bright yellow cardigan, and I actually wore my pyjamas there, but it looked casual, so no one noticed.
Our Ikea days, him observing me cut my meatballs, ate slow because I did.
Days when he would call me and we’d talk till 6 am, where I get up and bathed and went straight to college.
My unbearable days, our unbearable days, when he went to Sarawak, Penang, Melaka, Thailand, Indonesia and Singapore, and I wouldn’t get to see him. We missed each other everyday.
When I went to Hong Kong for a week.
When he tried to kiss my cheeks but ended up sniffing my hair.
The first time we held hands at the ghost exhibition at CM.
Pictures he took of me using my camera.
His life philosophy. I love hearing him talk. Speak. It was hopelandic to me, I wouldn’t be listening, just… hearing…sounds, his voice, so enthusiastic.
Our corny love.
Cuddling while watching movies, smelling his hair.
Observing the silhouette of his face, mentally drawing his lips, nose, eyes.
The finger puppets he bought at Ikea.
Waiting for Thursdays because it was our dating day.
Refreshing my browser for his long long emails.
And read them 10 times over and over again.
Lonely smiles on the bus when I read his sweet sms’s.
Lonely smiles whenever I’m with him, coyly thinking how lucky I am to have him.
His sad songs.
His drawings, his beautiful drawings.
His shampoo.
His deodorant.
Those square fingernails.
Those warm, rough, strong hands.
Muscles on his arm.
Lack of muscles on his abdomen.
Broad shoulders.
His firm hugs.
Watching him drive.
Him opening the car door for me.
His hand on my back.
His hand on my hand.
His hand on my cheeks.
Smelling his cheeks when I kiss them.
The corny 80’s music we’d hear on the radio.
Him and his ‘dance’ moves, to hip hop music, it cranked me up.
How he’d hold my hands when we crossed the roads.
My fingers brushing his hair away from his face.
The angry silence when I said or did something wrong.
Feeling like a dork when I said hi to his sister, then running to him.
Fantasize about stealing his car keys and wash his car.
Staring at him from a distance while I watch him work.
Watching him work…
Playing his sad songs in my head whenever he’s angry at me.
Finding where we parked the car.
Reading children’s books.
Reading sweet lines from children’s books.
Butter Cream Chicken Rice, and I refuse to try anything else.
Mango Tango, and nothing else.
Looking up to him, even though he’s not all that tall.
His farts in my face.
Vietnam, Angkor Wat, Paris, London, Indonesia.
His ‘talking’ horse. Charlie the non-unicorn.
His L-E-D gasing, which I am still trying to master.
Explosions In The Sky, I still owe him 70 bucks and more.
For the top-ups when I don’t expect them.
For the rides.
For the time.
For his time.
His time for me.
Hunting for my apple chips.
Surprising him.
Surprising me.
Getting out of my shell.
Break down my fortress.
Smile. I practice smiling every morning.
Sleeping peacefully.
His warm self.
Those hairy legs.
Janggut and misai tajam, tickling me.
Watch him smile, his eyes behind dirty glasses.
I’d clean his glasses the best I can.
How my cat is intrigued by his presence, sniffing him.
Sniffing his car.
Walking alone, thinking about him.
Dreaming about him.
His weird liking for baby powder.
Him and cotton earbuds.
Rubbing noses.
Stirring his drink for him.
Listen to him read aloud, even when it annoys me.
Secretly feeling grateful for all the traffic jams.
Grin to myself everytime I watch Fern’s ‘This Sweet Refrain’, knowing who’s in the dress.
Slowly, quietly singing along.
Driving around college looking for his dirty car.
Waiting around college for a glimpse of him.
Burying my eyes into his shoulders during those scary scenes in the movies.
My comfort.
Watch him walk towards me.
Watch him find me in the midst of the crowds.
My futile attempts to be funny.
Him poking me in the car.
His nods while thinking deep.
That empty, not-impressed look.
The helpless laughs.
Staring. Staring. And I giggle inside.
The Jude Law jokes.
Trip and hurt my knees when we watched Science of Sleep. (How clumsy of me to be too excited)
Him cheering me up during my bad days.
Promising to him I wouldn’t scream when we went to the Cat Festival.
So I bit my lip and flapped my arms and crushed his hands.
His dorky 80’s hat he wore in the car after bundle shopping with Ben.
That nasal laugh.
That voice, piercing my eardrums.
Love him wholeheartedly.
Wholeheartedly.
//Me, June 08.
