Went out for dinner with Alex today, then met Paul at S11. So we had dinner together. Talked about the future. Prospects, hopes, regrets, things like that. Couldn't say much --sometimes conversations like that double up as a silencer. I'd rather stare at the colour of the deep turquoise sky, and imagine myself instead. How many days left, you tell me. Half a month of mainly nothingness, then 8 days. Then it's all gone, and readjustment begins again. I don't want to readjust. Truth be told, I am happy now. now. I don't want to go back to having things mapped out for me again. Leave it to me. I don't need a signpost every step of the way. I want to live, to read, to absorb, to think, to lie down, to write my own jokes and my sad stories, to write my own future and my hopes, to dream, to write, to type, to emote, to express, to listen, to watch, to feel, to make. I want to hope my dreams alive.

If only you could want something so hard that it'd come true.
If only you could ask time to give you many chances, and it would.
If only I could tell you, and you, and you, and you, and.. now, how much I still want to be around you --how much I want these two years to magically expand themselves.
The online shopping.
The late night convos --of silly things, of hims and hers.
The hanging around under block A.
The sitting around and talking, and poking fun at each other.
The dropping by sectionals.
The pasting post-its on peoples' backs.
The singing.
The late night room discussions.
The impulsive trips to Bugis.
The retarded smses.
The heated arguments on MSN.
The strawberry milkshake equilibrium.

I hate how things are so temporary. How you have to grow up and move on. How everytime you find some meaning, it fades into memories too soon.

I'm not ready to go.