Home > thoughts > one more night, the end should be a good one.

one more night, the end should be a good one.

I don’t know why she still pops up in my dreams. I really don’t.

Yes, I really did have a huge liking for her a couple of years back but I’m sure that I’ve managed to put it all behind me. I don’t really think of her anymore, and I’m confident that none of the feelings I had for her still linger within me.

Yet she pops up in my dreams with frightening regularity. So much so that the only person that appears in them more often is me. She’s always the only person in my dreams that I can put a name on, and more often than not the only person that’s even mentioned by name in my dreams.

Last night I spent an hour lying in bed and (probably while half-asleep and certainly not functioning at 100% mental capacity) rambling to myself about my past infatuations. Not angsting, mind you, but I actually found myself laughing at events which, when seen under the light of day, seem positively disheartening.

I guess this semi-significance is due to her being the first girl I ever really had a crush on. First cut is the deepest, as they say. The fact that the whole thing was a huge angst-fest probably doesn’t help either. The angst I still remember (well, some of it). Clearly, too.

However, Girl #2 never pops up in my dreams. Probably because it was just. too. short. Even though it all felt more “real” than my angst-fest/infatuation over Girl #1.

The situation was pretty perfect. ‘Twas during the week or so I spent in 6th form before ditching it. I was the only (Malay) male in the (very small) class and there was only one other (Malay) girl in the class. Spent some nifty recess breaks together, including this one moment I’ll probably never forget, primarily due the “palm-to-forehead-while-smiling-sheepishly” factor. And because it was pretty uncomfortable.

To digest a long story short, we were talking over some drinks and, somehow, a few not-entirely-insignificant specks of her drink end up on her blouse. My eyes, of course, wander towards said sudden additions to her clothing, which were very interestingly placed (lolboobs). Anyway, after what seemed like an eternity (probably 2 seconds?) she notices me, draws her jacket closer to her body and smiles this somewhat-pained smile.

(Kind of like the smile someone would give when seeing off a particularly irritating door-to-door salesman. I guess. Or that smile you see a lot when bitchy (female) rivals meet in TV shows, usually after a veiled insult or two.)

Really uncomfortable moment right there, ladies and gentlemen. I was like “ohcrap” and she was probably going…


Ah fuck, I’m not going to even attempt to emulate a female’s thought processes, even in jest.

She was left-handed. Had the cutest hands. Above-average looks. Nice hair. (Probably) The first girl to ever sit beside me in class. Really liked her. It felt more… “real” than previous infatuations.

Then, I moved here. Bummer.

shit if she somehow ends up reading this, then all i can say is…


shit, entry makes very litle sense.

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