the thing that makes me tick
written: 11:19 p.m. on Friday, Aug. 29, 2003

She's truly the coolest teacher who's ever taught me, ever.

Went back to St. Nicholas. Reminded me of why I hate that place. I still hate it. I don't even feel anything upon returning. Perhaps writing those few cards was hypocritical of me, though I did mean some of the things I'd written. Others, like, "You're a really great teacher", were just there as space-fillers.

Come to think of it, I like JJC a lot better than I like SNGS, even though JJC pisses me off a lot as well. The friends that I've made in JJC are priceless, really priceless. When I went back today and saw many ex-classmates and schoolmates I just kinda went, "Oh hi", walked away and cast them completely out of my thoughts.

Whoever said that absence makes the heart grow fonder uttered a big, fat lie. And we're all suckers that actually bought such a blatant piece of shit.

I've said this before, and I will say it again. I hated St. Nicks', I still dislike it and I'm glad to be out of that place, thank you very much.

After that pretty pointless trip down memory lane the day got a lot better. It wasn't bad prior to that but... yeah. It just got better.

It was the soft, subtle feeling of contentment I felt when he and I sat down on rough, grainy and sandy concrete, facing the Singapore River, smelling the salt from the water, with my head on his shoulder, his arm around me, that I wouldn't trade anything in the world for.

The water formed small waves every few minutes, sometimes longer, and I could picture the two of us becoming waves ourselves, surging forward and pulling back. Two contradictory formula, without a doubt, but it is what defines us, in a way.

He's shy about many things and it makes me smile. For all his childish antics I can't find a reason to be mad at him, to be annoyed, genuinely annoyed, and to play the part of the stereotypical teenager jilted by her boyfriend's lack of physical contact. For all his imperfections I only see him as a human being, someone on par with me, not put on a love pedestal to worship and adore. He is so utterly human that it dispells whatever reservations I've had about dating and relationships, and he almost makes me forget about the previous one... but not quite.

I wanted to tell him everything. All the things that I've done that taints my virginity like a stitched-up hymen of a child prostitute's. I felt as if I were living a lie, presenting myself as someone other than who I really am, as a painting and nothing else, if he didn't know.

But I just couldn't do it. I started to, and the images came flashing through my mind, wild strobelights in a noisy and stuffy and crowded discotheque, and pulsing techno beats, giving me a headache, and the DJ placed it on heavy rotation so that I couldn't stop it.

And I felt so ashamed. Those horrendous images from last year with the guy I used to see, while I sat next to the guy I am seeing, a Catholic, doesn't swear, doesn't smoke, doesn't drink. It just felt so wrong.

But I had opened a Pandora's box of sorts and I had to close it. Luckily, he did the job for me. He rubbed my shoulder, pulled me in a little closer to him and told me not to think about the past. And he doesn't care about the things I've done as they are all over, etched in history.

His cologne is sweet. Just like him.

before sunrise // before sunset

Previously:
- - Tuesday, Aug. 29, 2017
I'm moving. - Sunday, Jul. 11, 2010
In all honesty - Tuesday, Jul. 06, 2010
What I want for my birthday... - Sunday, Jul. 04, 2010
On Roger's behalf. - Friday, Jul. 02, 2010