Someone Like You

It’s that time of the year again. The lights go up, the weather gets cooler and everything just feels better in general because it’s Christmastime. It’s also the time of the year people get all pensive and ponder where their year has gone, where everything is going and what they have to speak for at the end of the year. 

At this point, I can only say that I’m going through some major moments of nostalgia associated with this time of year. 

I should just let it make known that the only logical explanation for myself that anyone can gather after reading what I’m about to put down in words is that, “I’m a masochist.” 

Christmas is when I realize how dark and twisty I actually am in comparison to all that metaphorical whiteness of winter. It’s probably why I enjoy watching shows featuring damaged people whether they be as horrific as the psychopaths on Criminal Minds or the light, carefree and witty Gilmore Girls.

This is the time of year when I realize that I’m not entirely over certain things and I go back to reinspect the wounds only to realize that I’ve practically reopened the wound. It’s strange, considering I had a whole year to get over the first guy I’d dated. I went through an “I can do this!” phase only to realize that I couldn’t at all that soon into our dissolution.

Months passed and I’m slowly letting the scab form, feeling the wound itching from time to time…until finally 3 weeks back, I start picking at the scab thinking the flesh will be all nicely healed. Pink but all intact.

That’s when I realize I’ve just reopened the wound and the sucking pain comes back. And all those memories of “the good ole days” come flooding back through the void. Like Pandora, I’m starting to find that it’s a hard time trying to get those feelings back into the box and I’m just drifting lazily on the memories of a year that’s almost come and gone, while Someone Like You is running in the background and I tell myself that, “Never mind I’ll find someone like you” wishing that it were true.

It’s unthinkable but somehow the release of the final movie has had a greater impact on me than the release of the final book. I remember waiting expectantly in line at Borders all those years ago and yet, somehow it’s never struck me that this thing I’ve grown up with has ended.

I can remember that day when I picked Philosopher’s Stone out of the Gold Star book pile at Lorna Whiston very vividly, wondering what wonders this unassuming book would bring. Here I am, more than a decade later, reliving every moment made in print and on screen, relishing every flick of the wrist, every uttered incantation, and remembering just how far Daniel Radcliffe, Rupert Grint and Emma Watson have come since their first movie.

As pedestrian as I found the writing was towards the end, I can still see myself picking up Philosopher’s Stone (because I read the British version) and starting the series over.

It might all end now, with the release of the final movie, but I’m sure that for myself, and for a generation of youths, Harry Potter will always be with us, in here. *points at your chest*

I can’t say that I’ve ever been interested in politics. I’m even listed as apathetic under political views on fb. Still, the prospect of change has spurred interest in the current political scene. 

I just came back from attending my first political rally ever. Even though only 4 speakers actually said anything concrete at the NSP rally, I’m quite sold on it. It’s sad to see though, that NSP support has somehow turned into a cult of Nicole Seah to a certain extent. 

I understand that, due to circumstances, there seems to be a juxtaposition between the two young ladies contesting in Marine Parade GRC but to be fair, every one of the members contesting the MPGRC can hold their own.

Still, when all is said and done, I know who I’ll be voting for :)

Fuck. It was always there. Nothing could make it go away. Not the humdrum of everyday life, nor the delights of special events. The yearning existed below it all like a low frequency bass, throbbing its way into everything he did. 

Occasionally he might not notice it, but never for long. 

He wanted to hold him, bring him close and just stay that way forever. He wanted to share every detail of his life. Whenever something good happened, he would turn around wanting to tell him only to realize that he wasn’t there…