Getting up

There was once I had the best Monday of the year, it was a beautiful day and then some, but I hadn't had the chance to blog about it.

That Monday in October, when everything was perfect. When I wore a long skirt to school and the one whom I'd called my world back then said I was gorgeous. When I sat on the top deck of bus 197, which ran alongside trains on the tracks between Lavender and Kallang, with the sunset on my hair. When I reached home, at Paya Lebar, to receive a call from my granny that she was on the way home after one week at Johore.

That was a perfect Monday, three months ago. Just recently, the whole beauty of that day was shattered, and I never went anywhere near the memory, just to run away from the fact that it's over.

Here came another Monday, entirely different from then: I wasn't living in Paya Lebar anymore; I didn't have any boy's hand to hold anymore; I couldn't sit on the top deck of a bus and ride alongside trains anymore.

Yesterday, I'd gone to Singapore Poly to study alongside a new buddy of mine, with his group of friends. I was alone yet I was not alone, thanks to their company. They have a sort of hideout which they called "Narnia" because of the view, and they brought me to see for myself. I can't even begin to describe my feelings when I sat there.

Thinking about it, I was sad that the perfection of my life from last year was over. I still couldn't believe that he left just like that, and that I actually went back to Pasir Ris. Two things which I'd sworn would never be. It was hard to accept that these two things had truly happened, and I couldn't help but let a few tears slip away.

As I stayed there longer alongside this other guy that cared for me at the moment, I felt a little lighter. I told myself that this is 2014. It's the start of something new, as much as I don't want to leave my previous happiness behind. It was saddening, yet hopeful at the same time. This feeling, it's hard to describe.

And then came today: for a girl who's having trouble finding out where 'home' is for her, I guess the only time where I feel at the right place is on the expressway. When you're in love, you see the beauty which others don't, like you have your own third eye. That's how I feel for my roads; no other kid my age would appreciate them like I do, and that makes me feel in a way, that they're mine alone.

It's not easy to forget; everyone tells you to move on but they don't tell you how. But I think I've figured it out myself; you move on by moving back. Go back to the life you had before, back to the person you were before you deemed yourself as happy.

You may think I'm crazy, but it makes sense to me, because "back", is back to when you didn't know what was happiness and what was not, and you'd feel contented with whatever that comes into your life.

And as usual, here I'd be writing these sentimental shit, pretty sure I'm making sense, but in reality, I won't bother to put in effort to heed my own words. But I want to try. I have so much in me to give, and I'd start by giving my best to myself.