It is 2:22 AM now, and my head's spinning. My IOP essay, or lack thereof is nestling pretty nicely on my desktop. Yes, I should finish it by tonight, I mean this morning. Things should be finished. I'm finished I suppose. Threw in the towel, kicked the bucket. At 2:22, I mean 2:25 AM, I am wondering why I feel so useless about myself.. The word is gnawing. A dull pang in the chest cavity that stays there like a blistering white light shone into your eyes. When I write in short abrupt sentences, it's a feeble attempt at saying rather blatantly that my heart, and not my intellect is controlling my finger tips as they swipe across the keyboard in wild abandon.

Remember the first time you learnt how to ride a bicycle? Mine was in Serangoon when I was young. And off tangent, but I think for all future expressions of despair and sadness I shall allude some story related to Chiltern Park and Serangoon. Maybe someone can compile a scrap book. "Sadness In Serangoon." Something like "Sleepless In Seattle." just not.

The first bicycle I had was a red and blue BMX vehicle that came along with training wheels. I hated those training wheels. Training wheels were a sign of weakness and lack of indepedence. And when they came off a few weeks thanks to my dad, I was elated. On my first trip round the condo with my dad and without my training wheels, I would look always look down at my feet, willing them to peddle as fast as possible so that my dad had to let go, and I would be able to do a Lance Armstrong and have my own wristband. Okay maybe not, but I remember my intepretation of speed was somewhat limited as my dad firmly held on to the bicycle seat, and even if I had the false hope that I was cruising, my dad would eventually slow things down and bring me back to Earth.

And then one day, he let go.


He did warn me, I recall, saying something along the lines of "I'm going to let go now, don't peddle too fast or you may not be able to control the bike" But alas, O woe, Lim Peh didn't take heed. And I guess I soon realized where the term "vicious cycle" arose from. When my dad let go, I whizzed, if anything across the surface of the ground, and my eyes were still fixated on my feet, which for the first time were given Air Jordans and I could go as fast as they allowed, for no one was really holding me back. It all lasted for a good 20 seconds, as manouvering out of the playground where I was cycling at required a nice, sharp left turn and obviously my sharp left turn skillz weren't really up to par. Thus I ended up with a bruise on my forehead, and an even more battered up ego.

Now, throughout my life *cue violin intro*, I have been in, and well on many a vicious cycle, the evil twin of the deja vu, and you know how they say lightning doesn't strike twice? Well it does, and in the same spot too. I'm not going to say exactly what's going on now because I am weary of the way things may turn out on the internet, and if anything, human conversation should never be replaced by writing on the internet.

And I mean, let's not go all cryptic and stuff, but I can't seem grasp what it means to be a good man. I have never had a girlfriend before. The mere wisp of the endearing term is foreign to me. Bien told me that he has never seen a guy think so hard, and fret so much over a relationship before, not even himself. And I don't know, I think too much, maybe because I'm scared things will spiral out of control. I wear my heart on my sleeve so often, that it has become almost surgically attached to the cotton, but the fact is that I'm at a loss of what to do. I wish I could ease the pain by going back to my IOP, but I have never been one of those guys that immerse themselves in work to forget what's going on.

I am angry at myself, for being so inept. When I see couples get together, I wonder, can it ever happen to me? Should it ever happen to me? I can never emphasize enough how severely lacking I am, in experiencing relationships.

I, dear internet, am inscecure. I am insecure because I lack confidence in my apperance, my personality, and my ability to make you happy. Ever since I knew what it meant to have people dear to me, I would fear that they would be taken away from me because I do not have the competence to make them stay. I would dream up nightmarish scenarios for myself, that I would pour my heart into organzing a party or something, only to have nobody turn up because there's only me, all dressed up and sitting by one side waiting for the doorbell to ring. My insecurities have made me hold on tightly, to whatever vestige of humanity I have found.

You are like a kite to me, making my eyes dance with happiness and joy as we soar in the sky together, over the trees, boundaries and other earthly things. But I hate myself, because I cling on to the string so tightly at times, not even knowing that I am, for fear that the kite might just slip out of my fingers and leave me. I hold on tightly because I am afraid it might get bored of looking at me on the ground constantly, and might just want to fly away somewhere else.

As I unknowingly want to keep you in my sight, I fray the strings and I feel like I'm losing you each day by day and can't do anything to do about it but to just hold you closer. But I realize, that you've gotta let the strings loose if the kite wants to soar to its highest. I realize, that I have to let go, if we are to have the best of times together. I acknowledge my stupidity for not giving you the chance to soar among the clouds...but just know that I held on so tightly, because you meant, and mean so much to me. And I should have not hesitated, and should have told you when the skies were blue.

But I'm learning. Step by step I'm letting the string go lightly. And as my heartstrings come undone, my only regret is that I didn't know what to do earlier. I berate myself for allowing strings to be frayed, and sometimes I wonder why I didn't want to mend it together the first chance I could. But I guess we all learn. I'm learning. And all I can hope for is that perhaps you still haven't given up and flown away, and maybe I could have the chance to fly with you, once more?

like you did before?

Yes, tis indeed a lonely planet. When I was in primary school, my family lived in this nice condominium called Chiltern Park near Serangoon Gardens. It was nice, not just because of the facilities it had, which included a swimming pool, a nice resident's lounge, tabletennis tables, the works but rather because of the people that lived there, or to be more specific, the kids. When I first moved in at the age of 6 plus, all the children around had already lived there for at least 2 years, and we all grew up together. Interestingly we all moved out as we entered the twilight of our primary school days together, maybe a symbol of a chapter of our lives that had to be closed together as it had been opened.

I mainly mixed with the boys there, and it so happened that the boy : girl ratio at that point of time was so immense that it makes IB appear female. Anyway we did the stuff boys do. Soccer, cycling and roller blading out of the condo in wild moments of defiance and euphoria albeit only within a two kilometre radius. But I remember most fondly, the football that was shared between us young boys, and well the not so young, seeing that the demographic at that point of time was like 6- 16 years of age. Football was never played on grass, but rather on the expanse of pathways that adorned the condominium, much to the ire of a middle aged female indian security guard, and her twenty odd year old male counterpart, who would join us for a little kickabout after she left. I remember how she would confisicate the ball whenever she walked by, although she knew that we would follow her ( the 20 plus kids) all the way to the guard house at the front of the condominium and cry blue murder till the ball was returned, which took a grand total of five minutes.

Football always started at 5pm. And ended at 7. No more, no less. The ignorant fools who started playing at 4.30 were guilty of indulgence and were no more welcomed than the similar heros who attempted to play beyond 7, when it was unsightly to attempt sport in the stillness of the night. Why 5-7, nobody knows and how it came about, but all that I know is that I looked forward everyday to those 2 hours, because I knew, that however messed up my day was, I could be assured of 2 hours of pleasure with the same likeminded kids who were also looking forward to that hour. I remember at 5pm sharp, eager children would pour out of their houses into the pavement waiting for teams to be made (yes I learnt how to play '3 teams' back in the day), and me in my ground floor apartment would peer out from beneath the blinds of my window and drop all that I was doing and burst out of the door. If I wasn't at the window, or out by 5.15, the doorbell would ring incessitantly and anxiously as my close neighbours wondered where the hell I was.

However, more strikingly I remember the moments where I couldn't go out to play. My mom took on a fondness of grounding as punishment when I was quite young, and I tell you, hell hath no fury like a boy spurned the chance of playing soccer, especially when he can jolly well view the action happening just outside his window. I recall myself sitting at my bedroom desk, pining to join the people (and well the spherical object of affection) seperated from me by just glass and wood, my homework sprawled out in front of me like some indecipherable mess, my eyes fixated on what happened outside. It was hell. And sometimes there would be reprives, fortunately where my mom would come in to check my homework, look into my glassy eyes( haha) and say " Run along now". I would check the clock in the hall as I sped past, and it usually read 5.45, or 6pm and my feet worked faster than my head.



When I was young I thought that it did not matter what went on during the day, as long as I got my 2 hours of bliss in the evening, homework was worth it, studying was worth it, as long as I had something, or some people to look forward to. I can never forget the experience of waiting so earnestly for something, relishing it, and eventually living it out. Superficial as it sounds, my happiness as a boy was placed in those two hours with my friends, and if they were taken away from me, it was a horrible experience.


As I grow older now, there have been various variations of those two hours on a pavement, but the essence of the experience has transcended even time. In an earlier post ( wow I've written so much nonesense that cross reference is a plausibility) I said that one of my greatest fears in life is to be well excluded or isolated from the people I care about, just as I was seperated from companionship by a glass window ages ago. And now, in June 2006 I lament the fact that I am a lonely man once again. In the past week I have been going back to school for haven rehersals (which are fine, thanks for asking) and sadly I haven't been able to see anyone apart from well, the band and stuff. And yes, I don't know why but even as I'm wrestled with my notions of abject loneliness in not seeing any year 5 face in the school at all the past week, I know that there was a council camp which was going on, and I do know, that the people there were having a great time(not that council is all fun and games), but yeah and something inside me wished I had applied or something.

These are dangerous thoughts young man, and I mean, I doubt I would have gotten the job or anything even if I had applied, and frankly I'm not even gonna think about the permutations, but I don't know, I feel like they've all jumped onto the boat and left me at the pier clutching the rope. It's my fault of course, that I didn't apply, but I can't help but regret. I do not wish to justify my feelings anymore, but this is the bloody internet so everything gets taken outta context so to put it straight for the last time, you should not join council just because you wanna be with your friends, you should join because you love ACS.Also even though I sorta wish I was with the councillors, I do not think that I'd had gotten the job so I'm not being arrogant.(end stupid disclaimer)

To cut a long story short, I feel I missed out. I may have missed out eventually even if I applied, but the reality is that I miss the councillors that I know well, and honestly am worried that I might be forgotten in all their busy-ness and duties. I won't even start to name names, but life has been different with all your company, and now as you move on together in all earnestness I feel left behind by circumstance. And honestly, I miss you people.

Maybe I'm over-worrying again, which is in itself a high possibilty. But the reality is that I miss your company(s) and at times I feel the people around me just took a plane to some far away destination while I'm here just holding on to the memories and memories alone. No point crying over split milk or imaginary application forms, but sometimes you just wish that you were on the other side of the glass window, being someone other than the little boy slumped over at his bedroom desk looking out forlornly at the whatifs and ifonlyIs.

that's all folks.
oh and love your friends.