No, I was not drunk.

Like I'd expected, September didn't go off to a good start. First things first, the prince left me. Of course, the prince would never part with his duties to fall in love with a servant... That's what I thought.

To relieve the tension, I bought a shitload of alcohol and drowned away my sorrows. Or at least I tried to. At first I wanted to smoke but my dear friends were deeply against it because of health issues. Siying and Shushan would rather have me drink, although Sabrina was against that because she and I are Muslims.

At that point of time I really didn't care about anything. I just wanted to do something wrong. As if the mistake I had made against the prince was not enough.

I was a mess on Monday afternoon. The worst part about getting tipsy for me is the fact that I can remember everything I am doing. The first gulp I tried to take went into my nose instead, for some reason. I remember being forced to eat; Siying went off to get me epok-epok from Old Chang Kee, although I'd rather the chicken wing and I remember saying so.

"Take 3 bites that make me happy and then you can drink." she said, while grabbing my newly bought bottle and hiding it behind her back.

By the way, I have low alcohol tolerance. Just a few sips can make me go insane. Maybe it's something to do with my emotions as well, but whatever. At least I don't puke.

I ate the burning hot epok-epok and it was delicious but I couldn't enjoy it much. I was anticipating my alcoholic reward, and I was still emotional about the prince. I had snot and tears all over my food but I still munched on it. I was a wreck! I was angry at myself for crying; "the prince told you never to cry anymore!" the voice in my head kept screaming at me.

When I finished everything, every bottle of vodka and rum and shit like that, I started to babble and spill my heart to the girls. [Sabrina left early because she didn't want me to drink in front of her but she didn't want to restrict me from drinking.] I couldn't control my tears, and I remember so clearly burying my head on the steps of the stairs and bawling like a baby, and refusing to get up.

The girls said I wasn't walking straight either. This I deny, because I'm very sure I was walking just fine. I remember! I even managed to go to the toilet on my own.

Shushan brought me to EW1 Pasir Ris, where I went to Cotton On and bought myself shades. I wanted to cover my eyes because they were puffy from crying and from my lack of sleep. I was hideous. Who cares that it was nighttime and people were staring at me? At least nobody would recognise me, and for me to be in that town, shades were essential to conceal my identity. Whatever.

I made my way to the Cold Storage at NS9 Woodlands on Tuesday afternoon. I wanted to get vodka but honestly I was scared. There wasn't anyone to take care of me, and Shushan was on the phone warning me against it too. But I thought of the prince, and I got angry, and I just took whatever I wanted and headed to the counter.

Thanks to my navigational memory I remembered the way to Woodlands Waterfront. Okay fine so I forgot what bus to take at first [but I remembered the berth, it's the first berth that you turn left to when you go down the escalator that's on the right side of the lift if you put your back to the entrance of Causeway Point. Navigational memory.] but my fondness of looking out the window helped me remember where to alight.

I walked right at the end, and thankfully for me there weren't many people there. I remember hearing breathing sounds on my left when I was sitting there, but I thought nothing of it. I've gotten used to it. I looked at the Zon hotel, remembering how I used to sit at the windowsill all day despite my mother telling me to go out and drink posh coffee at the Starbucks or something.

Just a half bottle down and I was already getting emotional. I started to cry. I sat there for hours, just dazing, and I took out my diary with the intention of telling it things which I can no longer tell the prince. But I didn't have the strength. Looking back at my poor diary now, two of its pages have been scrawled all over with my kiddish handwriting.

I remember calling a few people but refusing to talk when they answered. I only managed to make a sound when Mel answered her call, although it was just a mass of ugly sobs. I told her where I was, and I told her what bus I took and what was the last thing I had seen outside the window before I alighted. I really thank God for this navigational gift. [though I'm sorry for drinking, but that's another story.]

The worst part of yesterday was how I still managed to tweet. Okay I was staying away from my timeline because I was sure people were gonna start indirects at me, and I also refused to reply anyone on my interactions. But I was tweeting away, fine at first but typos appearing a few minutes later. Forgive me for that if you had witnessed it.

Members of the public had actually came over to me twice and asked me if I was okay. The Chinese jogger pointed behind me and said with a smile, "I think you should look there instead. There's a better scenery." and he was right. The sun was setting. But because of my metaphorical habit, I got sad about it. I remembered my fear of nighttime, and I forgot that things don't last forever.

That was when Mel came. I refused to look at her because I was so fucking ugly and I couldn't stop crying when I felt just her presence. I told her everything from my heart, and it was better for her because, being his classmate and a best friend, she had already heard the prince's side of the story.

"He's not your world," she said, and I hung my head, as she continued, "No, girl, hold your head up and look at me. He's not your world."

"He is. Everything I do, every small thing I do, it's all for him. I really love him..." I mumbled, in between sobs and sniffles. "He liked that gummy lollipop from Times, and he announced that he wanted to eat one of that everyday. If I don't love him, I wouldn't have remembered that one sentence. I wouldn't have spent my last few days looking for a box of that so he could really eat one of that everyday." and I put my head against the fence and started bawling again.

I told her everything I've ever done for him. And how I've always kept my promises to him, not immediately but always eventually. I admitted my mistake, but I explained it. How I'd wanted to leave sometimes but still stayed because I learnt how to think properly before making such decisions.

Yes, I really remember everything. I remember putting on shades when walking back from the jetty, because I was convinced everyone was looking at me and laughing. I remember wanting to recite the East West and Circle Lines to Mel. I remember laughing for no reason. But most of all I remember Mel holding my hand as we walked out together.

We took the bus back to Woodlands, where we got a cab at the taxi stand. I remember insisting on taking the second cab because the one in front was the expensive one. I told the driver where my home was, and I laid myself down on Mel's lap. I was tired.

I remember everything. Memories are easy to emboss into your head, especially if you have your five senses. And no... I was not drunk.

Back home, I drank a whole bottle of iced water, and I swear plain water has never tasted so good. I took a shower and took Wudhu, and talked to God for a while.

Siying asked me to re-install Viber, because the prince and I were having trouble communicating through Whatsapp, so I did. We talked it out, and, tadah. The prince and I are fine as a feline now. Although the both of us are still pretty much shaken, almost traumatised.

I learnt something through this ordeal. I've always thought "Nobody cares unless you are beautiful or dead." It's true to a certain extent, but you've also got another way of making people care: believe you are beautiful; or do something inspirational with yourself that makes people remember you while you are alive. For me, it's writing. I'm still working on that but I'll make sure people know me for my passion and not through death.

And for those who are suicidal, there are lots of humans on this Earth who care. If I had decided to kill myself back there on Woodlands Waterfront, I'd probably make it onto the news. What would the Chinese jogger and the Malay guy who asked if I was okay think if they see that? They'd be shattered. They were that close to saving you, but they didn't. How do you think they'd feel? It'd haunt these people who cared.

I'm going to publish this post now before I start to babble.