Hello, goodbye.

What a teaser, that on the day you left, the day was fine; the sun was beaming, and the light breeze caressed my tear-stained cheeks.

When I step into my room after coming back from the airport, the room felt empty. It was strange to see so much space, when in fact, a few hours before, the room was taken over by the two mattresses from my bed. The room was suddenly too big for me.

The pillows on my bed were still strewn on my bed like how it was when we were lying down there a few minutes before we had to leave for the airport. If I peered closely, I could see the imprint of your head on my pillow.

The sharp tang of your cologne faintly lingers in the air, especially around my study table, where your cologne bottle took residence at for the past week. It titillates, it teases. And I half-expected you to come from behind and bury your nose into my hair.

The tiger-striped mug you used during your trip sat forlornly on the table, traces of milk and honey in it. Oh, I promised to make you a cup of warm milk and honey, but in the end, I was too busy, and you had to make it yourself. Would it have tasted better if I made it for you?

When I hugged you one last time before you stepped into the departure hall, I wanted to whisper, "Don't go.." once more, but I was afraid we'll cry harder. I saw you walk further and further away; you didn't look back, and within seconds, you have turned the corner, and I couldn't see you anymore. I cried, tiny yelps of fresh sobs.

What did outsiders think when they see us? So many times I look onto couples with curiosity, and a sense of guilt at the invasion of privacy, as they hugged and kissed and bid their final goodbyes in airports. What did we look like? Did the people think, what do they know, they are so young. Or did they think that it is a tragedy that true loves have to be separated?

As I stayed in the airport, waiting for the airport shuttle to transport me back home, I slumped on the wobbly plastic chairs scattered unstrategically all over the airport. The chair squeaked when I move, I remember. I berate in my heart, the injustice, that we were under the same roof of the airport, but yet, you were unreachable. I let my tears flow freely then, without any moves to wipe them away. I didn't care what I looked like, possibly a giant mess of tears, runny nose, and smeared eyeliner. I flipped through the magazine I bought half-heartedly, the words blurring through my vision of tears. The colorful graphics danced on the pages, taunting me, because then, I felt that there was no more color in my day.

When the final call for your flight came on the announcement, my heart wrenched and twisted, and I briefly wondered why a person's threshold for pain could be so high.

How stupid I was. I concentrated so much on the fact that you were coming for a holiday, that we could see each other, spend time together, that I could bring you to eat my favorite food, and my secret spots in uni; that I forgot that, eventually, I have to say goodbye. How naive I was, to think that departing from each other at the beginning of each semester is the worst that we could possibly endure. Because that is not true. Saying goodbye hurts, every single time. And perhaps I wasn't prepared for this, it hurt even more this time.











I was clearing up my room just now, and I found the pink boxer shorts that I bought before you came. I forgot about it, and you didn't get to see me in it.

How I wish that I just screw my group mates, and finished my auditing group assignment single-handedly before you arrive, so that the stupid assignment wouldn't have to take up some of our time together. So that you could have my undivided attention.

Now, I beat myself up inside, for not trying harder to be chirpy, to be cheerful, despite being worn out from sleeping too little, going out a lot, and working on my assignment.

I wish I have kissed you a few times more, held your hand tighter, snapped more pictures together, hugged you closer.

I wish I had time to remove the chipped pink nail polish I had on, and slab on fresh coats of sleek red nail polish.

I wish I was the one who gently rub in moisturiser onto your face every morning and before going to bed. Instead, you had to do it (carelessly), while I typed away on my assignment, with my back facing you.

I also wished I could slather some Nivea body lotion on your hairy legs, since you mentioned that the skin on your ankles and knees are peeling; although you taunt me with possibilities of your leg hair becoming smooth and shiny in the process.

I wish I wasn't sick in the first few days of your trip, so that we could get down to business and be naughty. :P

I also wish I huddled closer to you on that rainy night in the city, under the flimsy black umbrella that you heroically purchased because I was shivering from the pattering of the raindrops.














I love you, although when I cried in front of you because I thought of having to be apart for the next few months, you tried to comfort me by telling me, "Don't cry. It's only another 10 weeks". In the end, you started crying too, because you realized 10 weeks is a really long time, and we both were sniffling and laughing 'cause your reassurance damn fail.






Last night, I wore the pajamas I wore on the night before you left, because it reminded me of a time when you hugged me to sleep, you were close, and you were here.