Just awhile ago, I realised the pen Ben gave me on our first date 2 years ago mysteriously broke in my pencil case. It was probably broken from the weight of my books in my bag crushing on my pencil case. The cap of pen shattered into two broken pieces, and I was so upset because I’m the kind of girl that keeps every letter/card/postcard/decorated note anyone has ever written to me in a shoebox and yes I’m too sentimental for my own good, and I was that upset.
Then I started to recall how out first date went.
It was nothing short of ordinary, in fact I never thought I’ll be meeting the guy I’ve grown so intertwined with 2 years down the road. I was reluctant, well maybe I was playing hard to get, but no I wasn’t looking forward to getting to know him.
When I first met him at Siglap Centre in the January of 2011, before I could ask about the location for dinner, he said, ‘Oh the uncle in the taxi gave me a Comfort Delgro eco-friendly pen. I asked for two so I could give you one.” And handed out a cheap looking pen to me.
And then it got awkward after that.
Fifteen steps into our first date I tripped over the curb at the traffic light and he was a fucker to blatantly laugh out loud at me.
Over dinner at Blooies’, he went, “Show me how to write your chinese name and write it on my Comfort Delgro pen.” The pen was wrapped with canvas paper on the exterior, and so I did.
“I’ll write mine on your pen too.” Right.
Dinner lasted for hours. We had intelligent conversations about life. He had a lot to offer compared to what I’d expect of him. It wasn’t something I’d expected out of a guy who I’ve always known on first impression to have pigtail hair and always bringing a wakeboard to class. I’ve told Ben 1 year into our relationship that I used to profile him as the ‘douche that never ever turns up for school and throws all his project work on his mates.’ and that was why I never took him seriously before at all.
The night ended with me finishing my portion of dinner, and his portion as well when he didn’t finish up. He told me he hated girls who ate salads on first dates and I’m the first to offer to finish up his share, though I was in fact in utter embarrassment.
He walked me home down the entire stretch of Upper East Coast right to my doorstep. He never did that again after we got together though, I attempted to get that walk from him again but he gave up 2 bus stops down the journey and decided we should take a bus. I guess that’s why they call it first dates.
So things didn’t work out for a bit after a few months and I got pissed seeing his chinese name on that pen so I drew a rectangle around that 3 chinese characters and coloured the inner rectangle out and made it look like black art tattoo on the pen. But I never threw the pen away even though the ink was dried out, I just didn’t know why I didn’t.
Maybe it was exactly how I always kept him in some dusty corner of me during those months that I’d refuse to try to work things out whenever he tried to call.
I’m not even sure if he’d kept that pen on his part, shall check his stationary shelf at home tomorrow to see if my chinese name is still on it.
Ariko Inaoka - Erna and Hrefna (2009-10) - Erna and Hrefna are eleven years old Icelandic identical twins
The relationship between identical twins is interesting subject matter. I often hear that identical twins have telepathic connections between them. This is true with Erna and Hrefna. They are always together. They almost never fight each other. Spending time with them, I feel such comfort in their companionship but at the same time I feel arrange because I have not seen such a powerful connection between any can human beings. They say to me, “We dream some dreams sometimes.”
How do we distinctively draw this line to know exactly when to stop trying? What’s the measure here? Your feelings? The obvious evident factual situation? Opinions?
Or do we take it one day at a time? Do we push ourselves in that 24 hour time frame hoping the line can be seen clearly when dusk arrives again? Do we learn to get used to things to get through them better, or do we try to change things so they are better for us to get through? Do we hope for something to fuck up sooner or later just so we have an excuse to give up, or do we just keep holding on until reality exceeds never-ending expectations?
Do we try to be strong by not talking about anything just so the problem doesn’t feel real enough, or do we throw out our own guts and gobble another soul up just to stay above the water?
Because I need someone to tell me.
Lately I’ve been thinking about who I want to love, and how I want to love, and why I want to love the way I want to love, and what I need to learn to love that way, and who I need to become to become the kind of love I want to be…and when I break it all down, when I whittle it into a single breath, it essentially comes out like this: Before I die, I want to be somebody’s favorite hiding place, the place they can put everything they know they need to survive, every secret, every solitude, every nervous prayer, and be absolutely certain I will keep it safe. I will keep it safe.Andrea Gibson (via knoos)
I didn’t want to wake up. I was having a much better time asleep. And that’s really sad. It was almost like a reverse nightmare, like when you wake up from a nightmare you’re so relieved. I woke up into a nightmare.Ned Vizzini, It’s Kind of a Funny Story (via knoos)
And when at last you find someone to whom you feel you can pour out your soul, you stop in shock at the words you utter— they are so rusty, so ugly, so meaningless and feeble from being kept in the small cramped dark inside you so long.Sylvia Plath (via creatingaquietmind)