After the first break-up in 2014 I learnt that sometimes the only way to move on is to go back to where you came from. I'd gone back to my Pasir Ris house, shoved down my ego for the father who never once put away his for me. This time round, I don't have a house to return to, but I have people.
Spent the last week texting a handful of old friends, people I haven't talked to in a long time, girls I've always wanted to talk with but was too shy to. I don't really have the balls to go further than 2013, so I haven't texted the girls from secondary school, and I don't plan on it. Maybe if fate calls for it.
Today I'd spontaneously decided to visit my old school, Ngee Ann. It's not my first time coming here during the holidays or weekends, just to waste time like young people. I did it a lot after the first bad break-up three years ago, and how time has passed.
I only managed to stay in school until January/February 2015, not even two years after I'd started. Even then, it's not like I made it up with the very first classmates, because I had to repeat modules again and again. I don't think I'd have made it to graduation even if I'd tried to continue studying. It just wasn't for me, and I just wasn't made for it.
Imagine feeling sad just from seeing the Downtown Line stations in operation already. The last time I'd passed by, they were all just construction sites, with banners exclaiming they've all been accident-free for more than 100 days.
Upon reaching the opposite bus stop I was already lost, not being able to find the overhead bridge because everything was constructing. The atrium, my favourite solitary spot, was completely different. Toastbox was gone.
But it felt bittersweet to see the stupid sandwich shop at the corner still exactly the same. To see the door to the classrooms at level 3 still broken. The button for level 1 in the lift still not lighting up when you press it. The tiny little things, still the same after all these years.
Went to the Grandstand, where I'd once sat with 3 new friends whom I doubt even remember me. Walked to the end and felt like I was standing at the edge of the world.
Walked to a new block behind the poolside, where there was a tennis court on the rooftop. There was slight drizzle as I was wandering around so I couldn't do much; neither could these 3 boys who were bouncing tennis balls below the shelter on that rooftop.
Went to a level below to check out these studying rooms from the outside, because they were locked. A tennis ball dropped from the roof level, and I'd gone over to pick it up and silently toss it back upstairs, an unsung hero.
I watched a few students walking around, loitering and taking pictures, and somehow they all looked so young. To think that some of them might be my younger brother's age, not even categorised as the infamous 90's kids anymore. It still feels weird whenever a 2000 kid applies for a job at my workplace.
I imagined if I walked there during regular schooltime; I would be at least 4 years older than these kids, and I'd feel so old, so tall, sticking out like a sore thumb somehow, as if the year I was born is plastered on my forehead.
To think that 4 years went by just like that. I thought I would always be young, but that can't be because my first day of tertiary was that long ago. Time is crawling by and also going too quickly that I didn't even have time to find out what I'm really worth.
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