Thursday, July 20, 2006 // 10:49 PM

scrawled on an envelope i found in my drawer

what is it with these chinese festival things, the oranges, the colour red. my feet hurt, from too tiny shoes, from dressing up like i was about five years older than i really am, ten years older than i really feel. why do i bother to dress up, again? the skirts and the accessories and the shoes for the occasion, but more pressingly, the balancing on heels, the keeping of one's knees, together, when sitting down, the walking and talking like a lady. underneath all this really i think i am just. fifteen years old.

i'd like to be small again, physically small, to be able to escape notice. to run through the legs of adults, to be thrown up into the air, in an uncle's arms. i was never that sort of kid, but don't i get a second chance? now that i've seen just enough of being a grown up to want to crawl back into the treehouose with my rollerskates, with a tub of ice cream? with a comic book and a good friend?

hello. i don't know what i'm doing, i don't know what i'm up to. what are you doing, where are you going, why are you so busy. questions like those throw me, completely, i. haven't got a clue. why study so hard, why do all these endless endless things? or maybe nobody knows the answers to questions like that, and the stumbling around in the dark is something all other people, most other people, can stand, can function with.

all of a sudden i'm thrust headfirst into the belly of cordiality, it's kicking, squealing mundanity.

i'm slowly losing the ability to articulate myself. there is nothing slow about my everyday anymore, no time to think, but also no time to get angsty, the way i tend to. i remember this exact moment, i remember wandering out of my aunt's house on chinese new year, i remember going down to 7eleven and buying a pack of envelopes and a ballpoint pen. i have a thing for envelopes, i had a thing. i remember sitting on this bench overlooking the carpark, i remember it being a cool sort of morning. i remember kicking off my heels to be more comfortable, i remember writing a letter too, to i think kinyip, on another one of those envelopes. i have the clearest of memories, for the queerest of things - like that conversation with xinyi in some public toilet on the way to dance about how i love talking to friendly canteen aunties, and what not. why did i think of that.

by the way. i really want to dance. watching bryan dance last night just about floored me, and not (just) because he was cute. it'l be years if i ever learn to move like that. or even if not, i just want to dance, the way we danced at sec 4 lifeskills camp, free and happy and play that funky music white boy-esque.

please, someone please, take me out for a good time, before i turn into the bookey drone.