I found myself seated on the bench below my house. Wind blowing, the metal bench cold to the touch. "Hope I get to see you soon..." The voice of Tyler Ward ebbing into my ears through the ear piece you permanently loaned me when I damaged mine months ago.
It is 8pm.
A spoonful of frozen yogurt was in my mouth. Strawberry and plain sogurt. Comfort food without the guilt. I added four toppings for good measure; sliced almonds, granola, fruity pebbles and kiwi cubes. I was seated on the roof garden of the mall. Looked up into the sky and saw a star. One star. How bright. How lonely.
It is 7pm.
I looked into the mirror. And saw a girl in a baggy red old school tee and grey sweatpants. My hair was in a mess. I poked at it for a bit and tore off the hair tie, letting my mane run wild. I feel much more comfortable. I left the house.
It is 6pm.
There are University brochures and pamphlets all around me on the floor. It is a mess. A pile of clothing lay right beside the mess that seem far too ambitious for me.
It is 539pm.
Daddy and Mummy are standing by the door, again. Their mouths are opening and closing. Kind of like fishes. But in a nicer more human way. I hear what they say, but I don't too.
It is 538pm.
Daddy and Mummy are in the room. They spot the pile of clothing on the floor. My lingerie, a subtle coral bra crowned the top. I knew it was unsightly to them. They hate it when I do that. It is too indecent a scene I suppose. "Inner wear is meant to be kept away", I imagine them saying. Strange, why is it embarrassing when all of me is after all part of them? I don't know, but I do feel slightly pink in the cheeks. They don't say anything about it today though. I think I am awarded a break from house rules today.
It is 439pm.
I'm lying on my bed. Face buried in one of my soft toys. I think I am smiling. I'm not too sure.
It is 438pm.
My finger pressed the red "End Call" button. -click- The call has ended.
It is 439pm.
You are now speaking, and I'm listening. I like listening now.
It is 435pm.
We are on the phone. I am talking to you and partially whining to you about how I expected better grades. I am surprised that I can still do so easily. The words just form in my mouth and they spill into the phone- travelling through some fancy science term they call frequency (i think), into yours, where ever you are.
It is 432pm.
The ringing finally ends, and you pick up. "Hello?" "Hey," "How are-" "I sound human now.", I say with a slight laugh as I interrupt you mid sentence. And I smiled. I really did. I imagined you smiling there too. I really did. I hope you did. I forgot how long I haven't heard your voice over the phone. It sounds the same. I'm glad it sounds the same.
It is 431pm.
Okay, breathe. I've stopped crying. There's a bit of a flutter going on in the tummy though. Butterflies?
It is 430pm.
I just realized we haven't spoken to each other for months. And i mean it in the literal, non figuratively exaggerated way. months.
It is 417pm.
Was that an accident? Did you really want to talk to me? I asked you, in what I hope was a far less blunt manner. I think the tears finally saw a bit of joy, as I laughed a small laugh/smile whatever it is called at your response.
It is 415pm.
It's like my eyes became a waterfall, the tears are streaaaaaaaaaaming. Mummy and Daddy are standing by the door, telling me all about private universities and this course and that... I think it's their first time seeing me cry like that. Daddy is flustered, probably wondering how he is supposed to deal with a crying teenage girl. I'm feeling overwhelmed. I look down to wipe my messy tear stained face and saw your name on the lighted phone screen. You're calling. My finger hovered over the call button for a second or two, before realising I'm a crying mess and my parents are freaking out that their daughter is crying. I pressed the button to reject the call. I can't talk now.
It is 330pm.
I locked my bedroom door, stripped myself while forming a pile of clothes on the floor. I threw on an old school shirt and sat on the floor, almost bare butt, and started crying. Really crying.
It is 329pm.
"Congratulations! You can get into NUS!", my Mum says once I enter the house. "No Ma, I can't." "But you did much better than me, surely they will have you." "Don't you get it Mummy? Things are different now. Everyone is competing to go to University, everyone." "But..." Her face falters. I feel awful for being rude. I'm not going to cry right there so I went into my room.
It is now, 11.46pm.
What a day it has been. I think I've written far more than I intended to. I need to sort out my life. I am also wondering how this turned into another confessional entry. It is late. Good night.