Step Up/ Photos By My Bed

I watched StepUp a few days ago Dammit! It made me miss Melbourne more, especially the clubbing scene where everyone breaks into a routine and the gals and guys got into a small battle. A lot of people here would say “Aiya, where got such thing? How come everyone knows the steps?” Oh my friend, they do… they certainly do.

I don’t know when is the next time I’m gonna get to break into a routine while clubbing. I don’t know when is the next time I’m gonna get into a battle in front of hundreds of tipsy audiences. So I don’t know when I’m gonna stop missing you guys. Here, except for a few other amateurs, I’m the only one really bustin’ moves. Sigh… the last gig I did was the one in Amber. The one where Kel went: “Hey, we should stop dancing. They aren’t paying us for this.” That was damned fun. I hope Changi Golf Club will provide the same atmosphere, eh Ness?

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I'm lying on my bed, chatting on the phone with a girl. She seemed nice. Fairly interesting, fairly humorous. Judging by the many questions she was asking, she was probably into me. After I hung up, I wondered when should I see her this week, if I wanna see her at all.

Then I look at the pictures on the shelf next to the edge of my bed. I look at the picture of balloons. I look at the picture of flowers. I look at Mr. Nice. I look at Rafaek and the six-pack bear. I look at the Maltese. I look at the ring. I see my name. I see her name. I stare at the heart in between. How will anyone ever match-up to these memories? Will anyone love me this much? Will I love anyone the same? What was that girl on the phone compared to these photographs? As I ask myself these questions, my eyes well up with small traces of tears. Sometimes I wonder whether putting up these pictures so near my bed was a good idea...