Forever feels too long, but goodbye anyway

I couldn't talk about this for the past two days because I didn't know what to say.

Sometimes, I get the feeling that if I leave a message on my blog, or on friendster, that you would be able to read it.

Knowing you, you probably picked the National Stadium as the place to die because it might be easier for you. You thought it would be easier for everyone to forget you when the stadium is torn down. Its sentimental, poetic even. Maybe it would help. I wouldn't know.

You said you knew exactly how you wanted to die, and its only now we know what you mean. I saw a picture of your mom in Wanbao on my way home yesterday. Someone was reading it in the train. You made frontpage news on a stupid tabloid. If only you could see the picture of your mom. Maybe you would have chosen otherwise.

I want to tell you that you are selfish. But I guess you probably knew what we were going to say since you always said everyhing we wanted to tell you. Maybe thats why you never left any messages, never called. Maybe that's why you didn't celebrate my birthday, and chose to go the day before we met up. It would have been bad for the four of us if we met up before you chose to go. I regret deleting our pictures off my old phone, thinking we can always take them again.

You had so much. You said you knew. You were so talented, so intelligent. You are the only person I know with a audio engineering diploma, can sing, write, compose music, play the guitar and piano, was a double maths double science student, did a chinese minor, have a comms. degree, was a professional choreographer and dance instructor. But you shouldn't be so big headed. You really did a bad job as DP for our FYP you know. I let you be the DP because you always did sound for our projects, and for almost every other project you were in. I thought it would make you happy to let you try something you wanted to do. The footage you recorded.. it had rhythm, but half the time, I really didn't know what you were framing. So I guess you knew not to be a DP.

I loved your songs. They were always so poetic. I loved your smile, how your face lights up the way it does. But I have always disliked your hairstyle =P. I don't know how to see a dog tag and not thing of you. Or an addidas bag. Or Viceroy cigarettes. Or the way you walk and how incredibly bad posture you have for a dancer. Or the way you close your eyes when you are trying to choreograph dance moves. Or sit by the esplanade, or at vivocity, without thinking about you. Or even walk along the beach in Sentosa without thinking of you dashing into the sea with the freshies, muah-cheeing people, or the time you and Yeo buried my feet in the sand, and drew a duck web for my feet instead. It was funny. Or think about cats without remembering what your mom said when we were at your house. Or Macdonald's breakfast. Or think of you when I see KFC and chickee club. Or many other mama drama silly comments you like to make. Or the 28 of June.

But I am glad I remember the happy stuff. I think we all miss you. But I think its your choice, and its too late to argue if you were right.

Rosy messaged us this morning:

O joy that seeks me through pain,
I cannot close my heart to thee,
I trace the rainbow through the rain,
and feel the promise is not in vain,
that morn shall tearless be.




Goodbye my friend.

I just wish you had waited. After every cold biting winter comes spring.