Life steals you.

Perhaps I haven't been blogging, despite the many events that have occured since...well, my previous post. Like investiture, for instance, with the most relaxing part being hauling hundreds of chairs back to the store, or rather, receiving them from a height and then stacking. And then being able to shout "One Council" instead of "One Voice".
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"The world doesn't revolve around you."
I received a welcomed blow to the head awhile ago, as I conversed with Mr Jason outside L1 to escape the happy noises four levels of ATC-ians were producing inside. I felt cold. Cold, pale, beautiful the weather was, with the dull orange buildings shading the small patch of so-called "forest" we stared at. Or perhaps it wasn't very cold, pale and beautiful. Perhaps it was only the occasion that called for a cold, pale and beautiful setting.

I stared as if it were a vast horizon, though all there was to see was vomit orange and...green? My eyes weren't on the green. There was so much to say, and I could hardly say anything worth anything. Nor did I find it easy to turn to look at the man I was talking to. I had a cup on my hand, and I watched the whirls I made in the liquid as I tossed it gently side to side.

Abraham came. Harris, Eugene. I felt more relaxed. It didn't seem so vomit orange, and the sky brightened up a bit. Just a bit. I don't like it too bright.

The moment ended too soon, and we were compelled to return to that overpopulated depression.

He's leaving in a week. And those memories are never coming back.
Like the scent of an old flower I caught for a mere second on the way to the MRT. Barely have I registered it before it had gone.
It is comparable to the length of that brief moment when I looked with amusement at a message from a man named "Jason" when I expected one from Wyatt. The tick of the clock when I was under the delusion that Jason Castro was messaging me, and the next tick when reality struck and I remembered how, when and why I had Mr Jason Ng Jun Jie's number on my phonebook.

It was during Kidsfest rehearsals. And Baby Afiqah and I were rolling out wires for the keyboard while the cast left for their break. Both of us got the message.
"Don't forget to grab something to eat."
"Carm, who's this?"
"Er.Mrs. Kamal?"

The world doesn't revolve around me. I know that. But there remained that childish glee of hoping it did. And that stubborn pride which continues to believe it does.

I love you, Mr Jason. We all do. It's hard not to.
Of course we wouldn't want you to leave.

For the first time in a long time, someone actually mattered more. Even just for a day.
Thank you.

And I hate you.