In Continuum.

To My Technicolor Girl

Technicolor girls
Are always on the phone
Talking about their homes
And the conversations continue endlessly.

The angry afternoon sun attempted, but failed miserably as it tried to tickle the skin on my right arm through the darkened windows of the bus. It was already late in the afternoon, and I remember thinking to myself just how much the smudged scenery outside the bus window resembled the lost days of rain, both disappearing, both running away at high speed. As I pondered over such trivial things of life, a message came to my phone that touched my heart, as much as the one that came later that night did, in the most peculiar way possible.

Later in the same night, there was a moment of heartbreak on the internet. It wasn't because of a rejection, or something the old love said. But rather the fear of not recognizing a friend when she returns in December, the fear of saying a familiar name to a strange face. It was the path she took into the center of self-destruction that I was so worried about last night, and as the words were exchanged and then said, somewhere in our hearts there was a sudden crack, followed by the oozing of those freshly revealed blood.

*

This is how I met my Technicolor girl.

The Aquarium in the school isn't really an aquarium at all. The Aquarium is a place where students go to for studying or just a simple gathering in between classes. And because of the giant glass windows that line the outer edge of the semi-circle shaped venue, it makes the occupants of this area look like fishes in a fish tank, resembling the Underwater Sea World at Sentosa. Thus, the name came about due to the construction of the study area itself, and it got stuck to every SRJC-ian that way. It was the common hang out place for anybody who wanted to skip classes, especially for those 1st 3 months students who were there purely for the so-called honeymoon period and not the adjustments and adaptations. It was a great place, and I hung out there more often than not personally, in late afternoons with the class and just making new friends.

I remember that afternoon well, and it was straight after a guitar practice of sorts. A friend of mine wrote me a rough tablature of the song More Than Words, and at that time I was still very new to the world of guitars. I struggled with almost every note, and with every wrong note played, the thought that a person could rule the world with the knowledge of the chords C, G, Am and F slowly faded into the bustling sound in the Aquarium. I was there with a friend, and across the aisle was my other friend RuiYi, who was sitting with a girl then I did not recognize. I remember the white hair band she wore that day, and the way one hand was propped up under her chin as she talked to RuiYi from across the table. I took no heed of her initially, until I was asked over to their table to play a tune. I warned them about my disgusting playing skills, but they accepted my company more than the music's embrace anyway.

Technicolor boys, transistor radios
Blasting their treble tones
And the arguments are disputed after school,
In the parking lot as the teachers bend the rules.

I got to know Technicolor girl like that, with her short black hair brushed off to either side of her forehead, she had a secret underneath the table then which she held by biting on her lower lips. That secret however, was let out when RuiYi told me that a ball flew into a finger of the Technicolor girl in the morning, causing it to swell into the size of a half-blown balloon. Technicolor girl then held up her hand, and at the end of her ring finger was indeed a purple colored swell, which looked like a poisonous mushroom from a fairy tale. It was painful just to see the finger in that state, and it was a wonder how she managed to keep it under wraps, as she talked and laughed during our conversations. It was the first sign of the strength in her, the way she held on to that pain for so long under the cover of the table, and that brought me to believe the strength in her, even if she couldn't see it in herself.

I tried to escort her home that afternoon, but she got off the bus telling me that it was OK. After all, we've only known each other for a few hours back then, and it'd be weird for a person like myself to send her home. But the condition of her finger wasn't looking good, and the mushroom at the end of her finger was growing bigger and bigger even as I tried not to look at it from the corner of my eyes. So in the dust cloud brought along by the departing bus, the Technicolor girl disappeared into the crowd at the bus stop, and in my heart I took note of this brave girl I met one fine afternoon, so brave against all odds.

*

I remember the last words that I told her the night before she left for Australia in the early months of this year. I think it was some time in February, and she was packing her bag while saying goodbye to all her friends online. To be honest, right from the day when she broke her finger until the day before she departed, I hardly knew her very much at all. We've talked on separate occasions, but we've never gotten further than being mere acquaintances. She was the kind of friend whom I was proud to have, and that was as far as our friendship went, on my part anyway. A person's departure from your life is never a good thing. Be it Stanley's sudden departure from life, or her departure to Australia for further studies. To say goodbye is never a lovable thing to do, and I remember telling her just before she went offline that night, that I wished that I had known her better in the past, and though I tried my very best to cover things up, there was still a hint of regrets and resentment for myself.

Patiently you waited for a courting boy's embrace,
Then everyone would know.
But the letter jacket wasn't yours to own
And it proves to be on temporary loan.

I have always admired people who dares to go overseas to start a life from scratch. And in her case, it is especially so. It is an uncommon thing that our friendship grew only through the times when we are furtherest away from each other physically. I often worry about her from all the way here in Singapore, if she is eating right in Melbourne, or if she figured out why the bus transit system is so screwed up there as well. I understand that sometimes I worry too much as a friend, which make me sound almost like her mother of sorts. But I guess in a way, I just wanted her to feel as much at home as possible, to know that there are people back home who still loves her, still cares about her, still gives a shit about whether she is eating the right things and sleeping at the right time. Because I know, though I can only imagine, that living overseas and away from everything familiar can be such a tough thing to live through. To be in an alien territory, and suddenly given the responsibilities to take care of yourself can be overwhelming.

But be in a strange place long enough, and anybody would start to feel the same way about your new life. As the novelty wears off and the routine settles in, there is no longer anything to look forward to anymore. Your mind starts to wander the realms of the past, nostalgia starts to set in and more often than not, the arms of fellow students overseas qould then become so welcoming, so inviting, even if they might not be the best kind of friends you want to be associated with. It is indeed tempting to be drawn to this side of a social life, to be in the wrong path. But here I am as a person who knows you as this strong, brave girl, telling you to come back as a person I recognize, because there is more than one person here - more than just me - who loves you back home.

I tried to remember every sunset and events that happened in Singapore since you've been gone. The feeling of a particular storm on my cheeks as I desperately tried to rescue to dryness of the desk by the window. Or the way a sunset looked so beautiful and enchanting in the Western skies on a particular evening. There are going to be so much difference to this place that you call home by the time you return in December or January, so many more additions to the skyline or the streets. There are going to be so many storms and so many sunsets, uniquely Singapore, missed by you who are in another land right now. But when you return, when we are on one of those long carts traveling down the gravel paths in Night Safari together as promised, I shall try my very best to describe to you all the storms, all the sunsets, and every little thing that ever happened since you've been gone.

Because really, what I want to do really is not to tell you how much you've missed, but how much you've been missed. By your family, by your friends, or even the animals in the Night Safari you took care of last December. That is the thing that is not going to change very much here in where you came from, the kind of love you received before you left. At least I know, for me anyway, that when you return, you are going to be a different sort of friend than the kind when you left - more than just an acquaintance.

And as they all grow older
The truth will be understood,
'Cause we never turn out
The way we thought we would.

So for now, from where you are, I just hope that you can take care of yourself right where you are, even if the country may be too big for comfort, and the room too small for your personality. Just hang in there, because if you can distract yourself from the thought of December without the temptation of the darker side of life, there will be people waiting at the airport at the very end, just happy for the return of the Technicolor girl we all know, that we all love. So until then, please keep breathing, and always remember to love and treasure yourself for who you are, and what you are. Because who you are, like the pictures of the sunset I took just yesterday, is so so beautiful.

See you soon, my dear Technicolor girl. And unlike the message you sent me online, I shall never forget about you. I will never forgive myself if I ever do. And I meant what I said right before I crashed last night too. Do take care of yourself, and I mean it more than just a way of saying goodbye. =)