Stop

Much as I am trying hard to stop thinking about him all the time, everything in this tiny little island just reminds me of him somehow.

Everywhere I go reminds me of him.

Driving along the ECP on my way to work reminds me of how I would drive him to and from work in the wee hours when he would be taking a quick snooze or in the peak hours when we would both be cursing and hoping he would not be late.

Driving past the East Coast Park reminds me of one of our very first dates, when we were both poor students then, where he paid a bomb (anything more than fifty bucks was considered a bomb to us then) for a sumptuous seafood meal at Punggol Seafood. I remembered taking a cab was too luxurious for our means, so we would walk hand-in-hand cross the underground passage to the tiny bus station at Siglap. It was surely a long ride back to our hall, but those bus rides... damn, the car brought us much convenience but those bus rides were really fun times. I remember it was also the very first time I ate live drunken prawns. I was so amazed, and shocked at the same time, seeing how the poor prawns were boiled to death, right in front of my very eyes, in a pot of very delicious wine-soup.

Driving past Marina South reminds me of our pool days. He was my pool master, my teacher. I would always try my darnest to beat him in a game, because he was always so 'ya-ya'. But whenever I won, I would accuse him of letting. Haha, what a bitch.

Driving past Marina South also reminds me of that stupid freaky biking accident. That night-cycling trip I tagged along in the name of the 'Sports Sec's girl'. Where I skidded on a curve in the park and got my ligament torn when the bike fell on my knee. He wasn't around me then, but he rushed over and carried me to the van where I stayed for the rest of the trip.

Marina South also reminds me of the day he first brought me to visit the park, and up to the breakwater where the view was breath-taking. We were alone then, so we took out the tripod stand and started taking experimental pictures of ourselves with the then-newly-acquired camera.

Driving past Zouk reminds me of how I would drop him off or pick him up at the Copthorne on his crew-night sessions.

Driving past Chinatown reminds me of our usual toiletry-shopping trips - they are so cheap at the People's Park Market. And of our supper nights of porridge.

Driving past Geylang also reminds me of our frog-leg porridge nights, our durian-shopping trips when he would always egg me on to illegally park alongside the road.

Driving into town and parking my car at my favorite Anguilla Park reminds me of too many things we always did in town on weekends - movies, shopping, Borders. How I would dance for him in the streets, in the malls upon his request - he would hold my hand and I would twirl around for him.

Walking into Taka reminds me of the time we walked into Tiffany's and he tried finding out my ring size.

Driving past Thomson reminds me of how we would walk into Joy Doggy to buy the usual dog food and to look at the puppies inside the cages, the couple of impromptu massage sessions we indulged in when we lost self-control. He would always scorn at my idea of getting a third pup, but I remember once he was seriously looking at the pups and the price tags, and he said, "When we get our own place, we can consider getting another pup." Oh, my elation then!

Driving past Adam Road reminds me of our favorite prawn noodles. How he would buy me that freakin' $7-a-bowl of big-prawn noodles, something I would never buy if I were on my own.

Driving past NIE reminds me only of basketball, he playing, we playing.

Now, driving past a certain area near my office reminds me only of the pain and hurt he has brought me.


So, having to put him out of my mind is not that easy. There is no other 'state' here that I can move to. I could try hanging out at new places - but where can I possibly go? Ulu Sembawang?

Damn, even ulu Sembawang reminds me of how he first brought me to Sembawang Shopping Center, a place I'd always heard of but never been before. If it weren't for him, I wouldn't even have driven to Sembawang my whole life.


Having to put him out of my mind feels like I have to purge a lot of things out of me. And I am not quite sure if that is the way to go, because it might mean losing a big part of myself, cutting out a big chunk of my memories.

In time, when I build a new life on my own, I may eventually forget all these places, all the things these places mean to me now.

But I know I will never forget the words he'd ever said to me - words that seemed so soothing and reassuring then, but could not be trusted in the end.


Friends will always remind me of him. And so will the places. The malls. The food. The dogs. My room.

I only have myself to consciously stop all these thoughts from invading my mind.

Maybe I should play mahjong, to keep my mind occupied in something worthless. But fuck, he was also my mahjong master.

There's really nothing I can do.