The SMS...

I think this could the new title of a horror movie. Forget "The Ring" or "House On Haunted Hill" -- "The SMS" is gauranteed to have you peeing in your pants, sweating where you sit. I guess the show should start like this:

The lights are on and it's a quiet sunday evening for the lead. Then his phone beeps. To his horror, the message reads: you think you can hide forever? i don't think so... and the lights cut, and a blood-curdling scream rips through the cinema. At this point, I think it'd be great if the cinema could have a device that could make everyone's phone beep too, but with a blank message.

Ok, maybe not.

But hey, I did receive an SMS like that once. Considering the circumstances it was sent under, I would most definitely prefer NOT to repeat it again. It's an experience I'd prefer to keep tucked away neatly under my belt and away in a corner of my mind. Forget about the lessons I learnt? Hardly, they'd hunt me down and push their way back into the mind ever so often just far enough to remind me.

Speaking of past experiences, have you ever come across someone who you could affectionately call: the one that got away? I had the fortune of getting to know someone like that, once upon a time.

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On this particular quiet Sunday evening, I got an SMS invitation from a JKF to attend a birthday dinner. It was for J, whose birthday was arriving in a few days. "His class would be there. So will L. Will you be going?", read his message. I sighed.

You see, a long time ago, when I was still bespectacled, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed.... ok, maybe not THAT long ago. But I was still bespectacled then... My conversion to Darth-fuzzball-Vader hadn't been complete.

Anyway, there was Ms. L. A fine figure of perfection from my days of hormone imbalance and strange impulses. It had been a while since I last saw her and her lingering image in my mind was but a blurry reflection of someone else I knew. I had the incredible fortune of going through a recent "I'm sorry, but it's not you, it's me. You see, it's all my....", and was scrambling to find a date for an upcoming dinner-and-dance. Needless to say, life's divine sense of humour found us at the D&D, as dates. Rather shy ones, if I may add.

YES, I CAN BE SHY.... buggers, you all... I know what you're thinking...

It was the weeks that followed -- the late night conversations, the mambo jumbo and the little things, that cumulated in the inevitable kiss in some secluded corner of Ritz Carlton Millenia on a Saturday night. Our little hurrican stormed on for a few months, each passionate meeting raising the bar from the previous. I could have sworn that while she confesses to enjoy trashy romance novels, we were close to living one of them chapters out at that moment.

NO WE DID NOT... dammit.

In all my naive and well-intentioned youthfulness, I thought that we would last forever. I believed that she was perfect in my eyes, and that no distance or burden was too great, not for her. And indeed she frequently proved herself to be -- her gentleness mixed gracefully with her strength of character like the ballerina that she was. Her presence just seemed to intoxicate me each time; you know, one of those moments when all you can do is smile like an idiot?

Perhaps the greatest feeling I had whenever I was with her was to be overwhelmed by the very essence of her being. Her acceptance of me had been seduced and subdued me beyong my imagination. And I had given myself in to her as though I had known no other. My craving for acceptance and my search for a place the darkness in me can call home lept at this chance of having someone to resolve it all...

And then it happened. The whirlwind hit land and the winds had the disperse. All that storm and fury had to stop, to give way to another phenomenon -- an overcast, dank and sustained rain. Typhoon L had ceased, just as soon as the storm warnings had gathered and the winds were picking up speed. The storm was raging in me, still, furious as ever.

Just then a desciption hit me, one of tragic beauty. Could you imagine yourself in the times of the ancient Greeks? In my humble toga and slippers, I knelt on the hearless marble floor, hands on the feel of the most beautiful thing I had ever seen... A statue. I might have worshipped her, this marble goddess. She accepted all my offerings, remained flawless and pure through the changes, returned my touch with a permanent smile that was somehow genuine. But she will no longer hear my songs, my calls or my wails anymore. They have become echos through the halls, like stones thrown into a valley -- pointless and destined for nothingness. Just as gracefully as her marble touch used to warm my heart, they now swiftly burn my skin with their coldness. And I become swifly aware of just how cold and hard she has become.

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Until today this statue still stands somewhere in my courtyard, a reminder of the folly of my youth, the innocence of youthful longings. Still cold to the touch, it is nonetheless beautiful. Whenever I pass, I still stop and stare.

Can't help it... I'm still at a loss of words whenever I pass.

And so, I haven't found it in my capacity to reply that SMS. "hmmm... If you have a problem, I understand", came the reply. Thanks, my friend. But it'd take a while for me to make up my mind.


JKLM