It's 30 minutes to midnight now. Here lies a mundane soul. It really doesn't feel comfortable. The room is exceptionally darker. My eyes are having an ache each. If that makes sense at all. Relived the Saturday Night Fever with strangers that evolved into friends. Filling up my time with laughter. And bitchy stares. Hah, cool pe. I've really lost my touch of having to blog abruptly and making it long. Weird.
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Wokay, sorry. I have to remind myself every once in awhile. Let me rewind today's shit.
Once upon a time, in an ugly place called home, Singapore, there lived a girl named Myra Ruins. She woke up and met Hanz Kicks. She had coffin Nails for lunch and Dinner. Imagination ran wild for both of them. They both laughed. And laughed. And, obviously as they were not robots (or so, that's what I think), they stopped. Finally, after what seemed like a million years of silence, which was exactly 10 seconds, the excruciating pain of silence faded. The sound of a burp was heard. A slap across the arm was seen. A tradition was made. They again, burst into laughter. Random thoughts flew into both of their heads like machine guns. They were talking from topics like religion to slut-like bitches to the hot subject almost everyone would eventually talk about someday in their life, S*X. Don't worry, no hormones were running. They were laughing at the past. The future. The What Could've Been's. The 'Ohmygod's. Cameras were used to capture this moment. The day began to grow darker. As a way to deter them from being sad that the day would be once again ruined by the harsh reality that it is going to end and another morning is going to replace it, with it's scorching heat that burnt Myra from yellow to red, the sound of a bell lifted their face. And Myra offered to treat Hanz to some ice-cream. Though, the ice-cream man wasn't the most hygienic ice-cream seller in the history of forever, Myra and Hanz finished the whole cup of chocolate and ripple respectively. This was then followed by a burp. Then a slap. Then, yet another set of laughter. Catch phrases were repeated. Phones were pushed aside. And only verbal communication was needed at that time. To fuck boredom off. They talked and talked and talked till their mouth sagged. Myra's eyelids began folding. Hanz immediately said, with much seriousness, "Don't sleep on me". Myra was not literally sleeping on him. That would be extremely obscene. And weird. So she awoke and smiled. Giggles about sheer nothingness filled the air. Their bodies began to ache as the rate of their conversation recede to a halt. When it finally stopped, after a million burps followed by a million slaps, they began to realise the time. Certain that she did not wear her wrist watch wrongly like what she did in the earlier part of the day, she said, "8.30". This was followed by a "Lets Go." They then happily walked to the train. Both went their separate ways upon listening to the sound of the train whooshing by. They did their handshake, which was pretty much like any other handshake there is. After they bade their goodbyes, Myra looked towards the train, turning her back on Hanz. They left, knowing they'll meet sometime again.
