It still gets me wondering about how is it possible for someone to have too many feelings in a go, how they did not explode and how they wallow through the madness of it all.
Saying his name is different: each syllable framed carefully, letting it roll from your tongue in the most perfect manner. The mention of his name will stop you in your tracks, but you noticed that it’s not the same like your pronunciation of it. You do that teenager thing of doodling his name all over your notebook, lecture notes and scraps of paper. Your hand will move to draw the alphabets, spelling out his name carefully from the ink of the pen. His name sends tingly feelings and butterflies to your stomach, and sometimes you find yourself trying to hide your sheepish smile.
Nights became exciting. Eyes are glued to the phone screen, anticipating for text messages notifications to illuminate the phone screen. Late night conversations turned out to be the highlight of the day: from discussing about lectures to sharing football scores to comparing dream cars to talking about future career plans. You would stay up late even to talk just about the most nonchalant things. You would battle with your sleepy eyes and tired self, as long as he is still awake the conversation will carry on.
He became the person that you want to tell just about everything to. You want to tell him about how your day was in general, about the dapper guy in a dress shirt and a pullover knitted sweater that sits three rows away from you in lecture, about the pretty dress that you saw and how badly you want to wear it for the formal Christmas dinner, and the exciting crossover episode of two of your favourite TV shows. You want to tell him about your childhood, so that he can catch the glimpses of how you’ve grown up to the person you are today. From your fall when you tried on your first pair of skates, to your favourite inflatable pool that Mom used to fill up on hot sunny days, to scrapping your knee badly when you fell into the drain, to bird park visits every Saturday with Dad, to smuggling candies and chocolates to your room; all you want is to share the best times of growing up with him.
Still keeping intact, blow after blow.