Alien Landscape
My Home, My Drifted Island
11:53 PM, Saturday, August 9, 2008
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Picture borrowed from aishamartin.comThe best National Day I had was exactly 6 years ago. I was 16 and Adelaide was 18. She had four tickets to the parade and we were supposed to go with Ris and her then-beau, Raiqel. It was cold and the air smelled faintly of rain. I was deliriously happy because it was one of those rare opportunities then when I was allowed to be out late.
Adelaide had braids in her hair, Ris and Rai looked perfect together with their matching shirts and eccentrically brilliant sneakers while I was in one of my rare skirt wearing moods. Addie loved teasing me about it.
"You look like a girl" she would say, laughing. I would bat my eyelashes and pout my lips in return. Man, I was so different back then.
On our way there, all the four of us in hysterics, laughing over something I forgot, Ris said, "Eh, let's not go lah! We can just merayap until we hit Hid's miracle curfew for tonight!" Addie turned to me excitedly. I could smell her strawberry lip balm. Her eyes were sparkling in anticipation.
We gave away our tickets to some of Raiqel's friends and then spent the rest of the day walking around town, laughing, hugging each other, making pacts we forgot in the next five minutes. I remember vividly the feel of Ris' arm around my shoulder and Addie's cold hand in mine, occasionally tickling my palm when I got too quiet. 16 was a sweet time to live. Everything was easy, all your friends were there and they were the coolest people on the planet.
I remember that night because it was when something weird started between Addie and I. It's not what you think but it's safer not to put it into words so as to avoid misinterpretation. With the Singapore flag temporarily tattooed on our cheeks, we spent all our youthful energy on excessive laughter, practical jokes on passersby and walking our legs off.
Sweet 16 indeed. Sweet, sweet 16.
What was to come in the next National Day was Fir and he was wonderful. I did love him so.
I will be 22 come 21st August. This year's National Day was not good. I'm an adult, the few friends I have left are most often distant and I can't remember the last time I had someone's hand in mine, the night breeze in my face and hours to go before the night is over.
Happy National Day, everyone.
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Sanctuary of a chronic whiner. The cirrus cloud author pretends to be a cumolonimbus and rules a dominion of satyrs. In other words, a mythomaniac.
