I think something is seriously wrong with me. See the thing is, before I left for New York, I have been nicotine-free for a long, long time, totally over it like I am over all my exes. So, the first couple of months were okay, but come the last month, when the dozen or so farewell parties started getting crazier and crazier, that was when I totally lost it. And then there was weed. I mean, I am old enough to know that it was not peer pressure or anything, it was kind of like something I wanted to try before I die, but more importantly because I felt that since quitting smoking was like a f*cking stroll in the park for me, I wanted to give myself a challenge, hence weed. I know it sounds crazy (and that is why I am telling you there is something very wrong with me), but I find myself living my life in such a manner sometimes and it is insane I tell you. It is not unlike Summer Finn (from 500 Days of Summer)- she only loves two things in her life ever since her parent’s divorce, the first was her long, black hair, and second was how easily she could cut if off and not feel a thing.

I am sure I have told a couple of you this before, that to know the how much a person means to me, I need to be away from him/her for an extended period of time. Well, more often than not, I find myself first coping, then adapting and finally forgetting that particular person. That is why a long-distance relationship will never work for me- I am one who believes that out of sight is out of mind. And that is why I will never be one who takes years to move on from his past relationships. It is almost as if there is an “empty recycle bin” icon in my brain. Scary but true.

Okay, I am not saying I am courageous, or anyone of you out there is weak or anything, but it does take a certain degree of strength to walk away from someone you love. That is why I admired SC when she walked away from that piece of sh*t, because that is something I would have done, and done with ease. On the other hand, having watched countless romance films (The Notebook particularly), I can also appreciate how difficult it is for your mind to conquer your heart, and that is why I understand Es when she tells me she still loves Ong Bak even after all that had happened.

In some related news, me and the boys hosted a K-Box birthday party for Ong Bak on Sunday, and I secretly invited Es. To say I shocked the sh*t out of Ong Bak would be a major understatement, and afterwards on our way home alone, he expressed his astonishment at how well I kept everything under wraps. Well, deceit is an acquired skill, and I reminded him that he of all people should know I have had vast experience in this particular field.

Which brings me to SY, my ex (since Es was technically speaking his ex as well). I remarked that what he did to Es was not much different from what I did to SY, but I bet my life (and my dog’s) that SY would never come to my birthday party with a cake and a Louis Vuitton wallet. In all probability she would show up with half a dozen Ah Beng friends wielding parangs- and even then that would still represent an underestimation of what she would have done, I sh*t you not. And that is why Es is a keeper and Ong Bak is one lucky son of a b*tch, and I let him know as much.

Before we parted ways, I added that it has been over six years now and it is about time I ran into SY or something. I miss the beauty of her face, the smell of her hair, the taste of her lips. I mean, by the law of probability, it is only a matter of time before we come face-to-face, and I pray to God when that happens, she is not anywhere near a Home-Fix store and I am wearing my Nike Air Force One. Vengeful exes are not unlike death-seeking Malay motorcyclists who cut into your path at eighty an hour without signalling- we all had run over into a few.

And guess what? It just started raining- what a way to kick of a brand new day! It has been so long since I last saw raindrops falling against the backdrop of orange streetlights, and I know it sounds stupid but I can just stand there by the window for like fifteen minutes, starring at the tiny droplets. And of course, I will start reminiscing about that girl I sent home in the pouring rain, dashing across the road shielding our heads with our schoolbags, our hands firmly grasped together, two young lovebirds in their own little paradise. Such memories we all had a few, I am sure.

Memories…they keep us alive, don’t they?