Long live all the rainbows we painted and the unicorns we rode

Every writer has his personal golden masterpiece; a self-acclaimed crowning glory, so to speak. Well, I have a few. Posts and essays that always make me smile; that stop time to let me revel in precious memories locked away; that remind me of how beautiful I had felt then and drive me to capture that feeling again. And these written photographs are always about the same six people. Amanda. Eu Chern. Joanna. Jing Hua. Chee Kin. Lucinda.

I know I am not always confident about my writing skills (if you think I am good, go read Eu Chern’s, Jo’s, Jing Hua’s, Amanda’s, Jyh Ling’s and a hell lot more) and tend to do double takes at my own pieces, but the ones on Les Sluts…there must be some sort of divine intervention, albeit twisted. They say we write best from our hearts; I say Amen to that.

When I write about our rendezvous, our frivolity, our derangement, I write as me. You can see from my blog that sometimes I would try in the angle of a journalist, of a sociologist-in-making, of a music student, of a narrator of the day’s event, but never with posts on you guys. I am me when I am with you, so I do not see the need of being anyone else when I recount it later on.

Granted, I have not mentioned you for a while now, but that does not mean I do not miss what we had, and hopefully, still have. Just like not talking about my grandmother does not signify I am not grieving; I do not plan on letting her go anytime soon. Yet.

Yes, I live with my friends. Yes, I see them 24/7. Yes, I travel the country with them on spontaneous spurts. Yes, I do practically everything with them, considering the proximity and circumstances.

But they are NOT you people; they can never be. I love my college friends, I appreciate and am grateful for their companionship, but it is different from the way I love the six of you.

Only WE would smile when stepping into a book store

Only WE could comprehend the intensity of fervor for the release of our favorite books.

Only WE would celebrate the existence of Lady Gaga, Britney Spears, Fergie, Rihanna and other disastrous music misfits.  

Only WE could make a picnic possible.

Only WE could spend every grain of our hour glass taking photos and still feel we do not have enough.

And I cannot share any of these with anyone now. I am tired of feeling stuck and awkward on what to say in a conversation I have no connection to; I am exhausted from hiding my enthusiasm for subjects beyond my field of study; and sometimes, I am just tired of being mature, like how I have to respect people’s choices by sitting through Hong Kong movies with them should the majority favored it, despite my not able to stand that genre of film.

I want to be me. I want to be with you guys. I miss us, a lot. I am just not good at showing it (and I hate this Asian-ness about me).

Screw life for not giving me that. Then again, who hasn’t?

So yeah, just so you know. 

I know Chee Kin is not in here but this is the only almost-complete photo of us that I have not put up a gazillion times.