realtalk · Uncategorized

D R A F T – F I N

I forgot the reason why I went through my old blog. The last entry I posted was coincidentally two years ago, today. I might have written it without stopping to think and maybe that’s why I like it. Maybe that time I was just writing to keep a record, or maybe I was happy, I can’t really remember. But as I read it now, I find myself enjoying it. A snapshot of a place in time. Years may have changed our dynamics, decisions may have changed us, but during those years I remember feeling connected and positive and warm and happy- and life was good.  Those kinds of times have been rare and fleeting.

Here’s something I wrote two years ago, entitled Draft. I guess I never got around to finishing it.

             Draft

The three of us were supposed to have dinner but Arvin couldn’t make it, and neither could the two other girls he invited. So it was just him and me staring at eachother as we sat with our legs crossed inside a Japanese restaurant right across from his place.

Earlier we had taken a 10-minute walk around the harbour. “To get some sun!” I told him. We bantered and joked and talked about random things. But once we sat inside, eating away at our karaage, ebi mayo, kimchi hotpot, yakisoba, and oyster motoyaki, we fell silent.

“So, how’s your life?” I look at him. There was never anything new that he didn’t know about. Sometimes we’d get stuck in the same conversations because really, our lives consisted of double jobs, random dinners out, singing on our phone apps or sleeping in. I shrug, same old same old.
“And you?” same old, same old.

We waited for the bus arguing whether ghosts exist or not. You, the logical one, the little boy who excelled in math and science, and I the superstitious one, believing in horoscopes, always trying to figure out everyone’s astrological signs. It was drizzling as we rode the bus. 10:44 PM, we got off later than we should have. I rolled my eyes at you, annoyed that we had to close the store that late because you forgot to throw the trash.

Sitting side by side as our bus reached the bridge, we looked out the windows. It was always the same route, only that three days ago, it was early morning, after an overnight shift and we sat at the end of the bus. I stared at the red lights ahead, blurred by the droplets of rain collecting on the window shield. You seemed to do the same when you looked at me and said

“Oh my god. I’m going to be sad when you leave.” and I couldn’t hide my smile.
“Why are you smiling?”

Because I make you sad.
Because we’re closer than I’d ever imagined.
Because you’ll miss me.

“Nothing, it just means I’ve made friends.”
“Of course you have. I’m your straight guy best friend.”
“Really now?”
“Yes.”

And I smile. I’m totally good with that.

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