what a day
So Singapore has no wide open areas, no freedom, and no sense of history. But all you have to do, really, is find little pockets of new space, colonise them, and create your own memories.
Long, lazy nights when conversation flows more easily and more sparklingly than the alcohol; adventure treks into the heartlands and hidden alleys where sleazy karaoke pubs alternate with whimsical European cafes; spontaneous drives to the beach with nothing and no one except a bottle of wine and a sense of discovery.
I unearthed an old, secret blog yesterday and this was an entry from December 2003:
"Thinking about the next six months I have left in college, there's so much I still want to do. I want to have more choc shrooms. I want to get drunk more. I want to make out with someone new. I want to have long midnight conversations, to have insights, to flirt without feeling guilty. Everything I thought was my ultimate ambition has been turned on its head."
And, awkward writing aside, I wish I knew back then what I know now - that complacent malcontent will never be enough. I wish I could go back and tell my bewilderedly unhappy self that there was a reason for that restlessness and that life has a way of springing you out of your rut when you least expect it, as long as you have the reflexes and the strength to seize your chances.
I don't think I ever realised how unhappy I was all those years, until now.
I also wish I could tell my old self that pink really doesn't go with green. Urgh.
posted by zyn ::
4:18 AM ::
6 Comments ::
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