In Continuum.

I think it is petrifying to think about change sometimes. Every aspect of changing is a thought that is difficult to bear somehow, or at least to me. I think most of us are at the stage whereby we look at ourselves in the mirror and wonder what we'd look like in ten years' time. I constantly think about that, though it isn't so much about my looks but the way that I dress. I wouldn't want to be spotted with a flowery button-down shirt and a pair of slippers though, not to mention gold chains, gold rings and gold bangles. As long as I keep it in mind that I have an image to uphold even when I am old, I'd be fine I suppose. Yet, there is always a potential chance that the change could lead me to undesirable places. More than the looks, though, relationships between people could very well change, and it can be somewhat scary or daunting even if it is for the better. I wish for the relationship between my sister and I to become better over the years, and we'd be the kind of siblings to keep in touch in our adult years. Yet, every form of change involves moving out from the zone of your comfort, like the one that I am in right now. With every change that comes along, we have an equilibrium of good and bad, and I suppose it is all about perspectives when it comes right down to it. You know, whether you want to focus on the changes for the worse or the beautiful things that have remained unchanged.

In less than a month, I am going to embark on the journey of my life. It isn't some big mystery amongst my friends, and it isn't some kind of a soul searching trip into the mountains to find some kinda guru or wise man. It's going to be a semester spent in Buffalo, and I suppose a lot of changes will scary the living daylight out of me over there. More than the food and the weather, I suppose the culture shock and the fact that I'd have to depend solely on myself is going to be one of those changes that are going to slap me in the face. I feel that I need this trip though, I've known deep inside for a while now that this trip overseas is going to change me dramatically. However, even knowing that a change is going to be for the better, a part of you is always going to want some things to remain the same. It is conflicting sometimes, and it is strange. Like, you want an event to be some life-altering event that'd turn everything around somehow. I mean, if something you do is not going to change anything in your life, then you might as well not try at it to begin with. However, when you do get down to it, you just wish that some things from the past will remain the same. There will be times when even a millionaire would craze for a childhood snack that he used to eat when he was younger, and only hoped that the little shop around the corner hadn't closed down a decade or two ago.

Anyway, it is all about perspectives, and it is about how you are going to see things. Either we harp on the fact that it is going to be a long and grueling four months, or I am going to see it as a change that is going make me a better person. Either we focus on all the inconveniences that are going to come along with this change, or we could think about all that will remain the same despite everything else. It is difficult for any couple to come to terms with that, I feel. I mean, in any form of relationship, you cannot deny that the physical presence of each other stands for so much, and I am not talking about sex here. It's just the physical presence and the knowledge that somebody is, at the most, an hour away from you, comforts you. Having to deal with a long distance relationship is going to be hard for anybody, and I have never expected myself to be the victim (so to speak) of such a long distance relationship at all. It is upsetting, and at times depressing for me to think about it. I have, for more than one occasion, teared because of the mere concept of leaving my beloved ones behind in this country for such a long time. Yet, something came to me a few days ago when I walked out from Neptina's house. I realized something that I haven't exactly thought about - a new perspective on all that will remain.

You see, four months isn't too short a time for everything to remain the same. I understand that there will be things that are different by the time I come back, and it will scare anybody. I understand that nothing will remain in static, and everything will be nudged even by an inch away from where they started off with. Yet, there are times when that inch isn't far enough to be out of your comfort zone, and I feel like I can stomach those minor changes and see them as being unchanged for the most part. It comforts me when I think about it that way, to know that there will be things back home staying the same. It is silly to think about it this way, but I almost feel as if things are going to remain the same just for me, as if they will be waiting for my return or something like that. It isn't that all the people that will be looking forward to my return aren't going to be enough of course. But more than the people, on an even grander scale, it comforts me deep inside to know that a lot of things that I have come to get used to will be the same when I come back, you know. I remember coming home from the army for the very first time, and how my room and my bed smelled exactly the same. If you have ever experienced that, you know what I am talking about.

Everything in my room is probably going to remain the same when I come back. You know, the books are still going to be stashed up untidily underneath my table, and my DVDs are still going to be properly arranged in alphabetical order. James is still going to be sitting on top of my DVD collection while staring out of my bedroom window, and the shade of yellow from my night lamps are still going to cast the very same shadows on the walls and the floors. My mother is still going to be around the house, at the table in her room working on some accounting stuff, while my sister is still going to be in her room with her chin propped up by her hand. My neighbor is still going to invite their friends over for cell groups every Friday, and the shoes are still going to collect as far as halfway to the front door of my house. The security guards are probably going to be the same when I come back, still blasting the radio from inside their guard house and chatting up residents when they leave or enter the estate. That little black and white cat with the blue eyes is still going to wander around in the bushes at the back gate of my house, always appearing at the same time everyday with that look of suspicion and wonder in its eyes.

Beyond the boundaries of my home, I think the lime juice that they sell at Chomp Chomp is still going to be as huge and satisfying as they are now. The carrot cake is still going to be pretty awesome, and the attendants at the prata shop are still going to be the most unfriendly people in the service industry - ever. Orchard Road is not going to change much, even if there will be new malls opening everywhere around that area, because malls are malls anyway. The streets are still going to be filled with the same brand of people from everywhere. You know, the maids on weekends, the aunties with their fake branded bags, and the school kids that come in groups with their limitless ability to annoy the hell out of me. Kinokuniya is still going to smell the same, and the people working there are still going to be in those blue aprons that they wear all the time. Traveling around in Singapore, for the most part, is probably still going to be a bitch, and getting from my place to Neptina's house is probably not going to get any easier in four months time. The walk from the 53 bus stop to hers is still going to be decorated by stray cats and strange old men, and the parrots are still going to be cawing in the park next to her house while hanging upside down from a tree.

The old men are still going to be wearing their wifebeaters while watching television in their living room. In the summer, the tree downstairs is going to bloom flowers all over again, and the entire void deck is going to have sweet and flowery smell. The beeping in the elevator is still going the equally annoying, and I am still going to hold my cellphone away from my ear for a while whenever she enters the elevator on the phone with me. She is still going to be living on the seventh floor, and the color of her front door is still going to remain bright and unchanged. The little fan fixed to the window of her neighbor from the other side of the corridor is still going to be there, and it'd be spinning when the wind comes in. Her father's old bicycle is still going to be chained and locked the railings of the staircase leading down to the first floor, and it is still going to be dusty and rusty due to the lack of maintenance. When it rains, the rain is still going to spill into the corridor and make the floors wet, and the little grey cat is still going to be prancing around the neighborhood lazily in the afternoon. Her gates will open as usual, and she will be there waiting for me to enter with a smile on her face, and maybe a tear in her eyes.

Her mother is still going to be at the television, either watching the latest episode of Oprah or catching up on entertainment news on E!. I am going to kick my shoes off at the front door where the other shoes will meet my shoes, and I am probably going to head to her bedroom first because that is usually where the comfort is. Neptina is probably going to go handle something while I turn on the air-conditioning and then close the windows. I am still going to have a hard time closing them because if you close one of them too hard, the window on the other side will pop open and you have to close it all over again. I am probably going to be able to hear the toilet flush from her bedroom, and then I'd be taking off my socks and taking out my wallet while she comes into the bedroom to give me a big tight hug. For the rest of the day, we will be taking random pictures on her Macbook, laughing over random things on the internet, cuddling in bed because the air-conditioning is getting too cold, and then we'd be whispering words into each others' ears because we are that close to each other. We'd be guessing what her parents are doing when we hear sounds of them walking around the house, then we'd be planning on what to eat for dinner. Sometimes, we'd go out and buy groceries just to come back to cook, and the wait for the food to be done is still going to be incredibly agonizing.

At night, we'd still be going out from her bedroom to say hello to the father when he gets back, and then we'd be closing the door behind us because the sound from the television would be deafening. We'd still be propping our legs and arms up with the blanket over our heads to pretend that we are marooned pirates. We'd be pretending that we are on a makeshift raft in the middle of the sea, and there is a storm coming from the horizon while we try to sail to the nearest island. We'd lay there in bed and look at stars through the ceiling of her room, and then we'd still be talking about how amazing it has been since the day that we met, not to mention how improbably it'd still seem for us to meet in the first place. By eleven, it'd be my time to leave, and then she'd ask for me to give her a hug in bed before I have to pack up and go. She'd ask for a "hug-crack" from me, which is a hug that involves me cracking her back, and then she'd hold my hand through her dark living room and then down the elevator. On the way, we'd be making fun of that old neighbor who sits at the sofa to watch television every single day of the week, and then she'd be waving goodbye to me while I go home in a cab. She'd remain there by the side of the road with a kiss in her hand, just waiting for the lights of the cab to disappear around the corner before she lives. Before then, she will remain there in the middle of the night, and she will be doing the same when I come all the way back from the other side.

I guess what I am trying to say that although it is going to involve a dramatic change in many things in both our lives, many things that are already happening don't necessarily have to change at all. For four months, we will see each other less, talk to each other less, and get to touch each other even lesser. But the truth is, though, is that nothing is permanent, even the painful things will come to pass sooner or later. Change comes along with everything in our lives, and while the good will eventually change for the worse, the worse will also eventually change for the better. Amidst the ever-changing landscapes of our lives, we might as well pay more attention on the beautiful things that will remain unchanged, traditions and routines that we have become so accustomed to over the days and the weeks and the months. The truth is, though, I do not want anything to change but our relationship to become stronger and better. Other than that, I love the way that we are, and I think we are quite an awesome pair together. We could either fear the possibility of our relationship changing for the worse, or we could remember how many little things will still remain the same. Like the way the old men would stare dumbly at the television screen, like the way the scent of the flowers would drift through your corridors, like the way we'd kiss each other goodbye by the changing lights of the road junction, our love doesn't have to change after the months that I will be away either. So remain the same, and remain as you, and I promise that I will do the things that we've grown so comfortable to.