EW25

Disclaimer: please read this series of posts starting from EW29, then backwards.

It's true that I always end up fine in a few weeks each time you left me. But we all know it wouldn't be possible without the presence of other people, souls that were made to cross my path only in your dust. One of them were there during both break-ups; the aspiring pilot.

After three years, we met for the first time. I could tell he was comfortable, with nothing stopping him from talking to his heart's content. I was too anxious to buy my own meal, too shy to speak out my mind that was bursting at the seams. He was talking too much and was almost always interrupting me, but I genuinely liked his smile. That was probably the first reason I liked listening to him.

May 2017: it took many long conversations for him to admit he had a heart for me three years prior. When we met through a mutual and discovered that we both liked writing and had a page close to our hearts. He didn't do anything about those feelings of his because he strongly believed two writers can never click, with the universes in our brains that will constantly clash.

But for some reason, I didn't think so highly of him. There was nothing special about him aside from being a true "Flying-Type" person, with his desire to be a pilot and soar the skies.

I guess it went the other way around too, when he realised I wasn't that great either. He didn't get my jokes or sarcasm, while I thought nothing of his medals and shit. (he was nominated for some Lee Kuan Yew award in his polytechnic days, and was the second best of his cohort)

Even the only thing we had in common were in constant collision. He never read my blog posts, while I hated the long, fake-deep texts he always sent me. I'm not your phone memo, I once snapped.

You know, no matter how good you think you are, there's always someone better than you, he retaliated, as his way of confessing he thought nothing of my writing.

I don't care, I said, as I climbed into the backseat while my ego took the steering wheel. I'm better than everyone else right now.

Why is it you just piss me off? Don't brag. You're not the greatest.

But his every word fed my pride. You already know he was the one who taught me I was made to float. Truth was, he never actually said those words. He just became another person I thought ranked far below me, someone that will never be as great as I. His academic intelligence was nothing to me. The words he poured out on his phone memo could never compare to the words I write.

Maybe we had more than one thing in common: we both had pride. But just like where we lived, our humour and intelligence sat on opposing ends. I was stuck in the extreme east while he continued making Chinese Garden home, with the casuarina trees and countless frames displaying all his achievements.