i couldn't sleep last night cos i was thinking how tragic it is that the only friend whom i can have nonsense phonecalls with and talk about nothing, and practically talk till one of us falls asleep on the other, is in america. my best friend is in america. and i'm here, and it's not the same anymore, and i miss that. i can't wait for december, i can't wait for you to start calling me again, be it the rare psychotic-ly early morning calls, where you immitate my mmm-s and ahhh-s, and try to rouse me from my deepdeepsleep. or just the random purposeless calls.
and the hanging out in your house. and my house, when i get my way, and manage to convince you to come down. and sleeping over. and eating ice cream in the swimming pool though it almost gives us pneumonia running to that stall dripping wet and back into the pool.
and my insisting on drinking ice lemon tea at the movies. and finally compromising, by buying mountain dew, the true survivor drink.

crap.
you stupid goondu.
i bloody love you.

and sometimes i dream, that i'd be in a number 10 on the way to nus, instead of waking up at hall, that i'd be giving you my typical dead calls on the hp making sure you were at the bayshore busstop ready to hop onto the same bus, as we make our sleepy-eyed journey down to lt29, for morning lectures. and when break comes, when it's lunch time, we'd probably be travelling to yih for lunch more often, or perhaps even the spinelli at the uni-hall that i've yet to try, since you'd probably hate the vegetarian food at the sci canteen. and you may not be in climbing, but sometimes you'd wait for me to end training so that we could take the fricking number 10 home.
and you'd share my friends and i'd share yours, easily, now that we're in the same school, finally.
and.. enough. i am not delusional,
and, sometimes its okay to picture life down another path,
and, imagine the what-ifs.

but then it hits you, life is not that dream.
and it hurts.