Are you a coffee bean not yet ready to be brewed?

Are you in a trench of darkness and obscurity in the heart of the jungle? Are you in the middle of two huge rocks on the brink of striking one another?

Are you a vampire slayer being forced of a responsibility to save the world from the mouth of hell before a slumber party?

Are you getting tired of the frolics of some omniscient version of Michael Scott, or Dwight Schrute, or Jim Halpert?

Are you getting pissed off of a know-it-all, broken-down Frank Abagnale Jr. who constantly mispronounces peetch (pitch), kip (keep) and buther (bother)? Who keeps on saying the phrase: ‘most often than not’? And he who mentioned: ‘what is the next steps’?

Are you currently thinking as a night crawler that constantly flights out of a sticky situation?

Are you a knight-in-shining-armor in need of a damsel-in-distress to save you from dozing off under a magical spell of hymn from a vibrant, multihued feathered foe?

I am.
 

Weird. I can smell the tangy sweet salty scent of the soy sauce inside the bus – someone’s eating siomai. It’s making me hungry. Looking outside, the sun’s a little clearing but the pavement is still soaked from the drizzle punishment it received yesternight. I’m getting close to my destination and it’s making me feel queasy now. I can’t even spot one damn billboard for me to be entertained. The cheap-o local morning show and its boisterous traffic girl is all the entertainment I can get. Bum. I can’t even call it entertainment.

As I have reached the intersection, I remember the old times.

Old times, when it was you and me holding hands as we approach the exit. When it was you and me, gazing through each other’s eyes at the station looking for one another, feeling excited as another day have ended. When it was you and me, climbing up the trans, looking for a spot, sitting and cuddling each other while we look outside the pouring rain. When it was you and me, tickling each other and playing kiddie games – like finger-wrestling and paper-rock-scissors – whilst we entertain ourselves in the midst of the heavy traffic. That was one of the best entertainment one person could ever get. When it was you and me, enjoying our waffles together while keeping both of our hands firmly intertwined with each other. Yes, it was hard doing that but I loved the feel of it. It gives me security. Assurance.  When it was you and me, as we stare out in fascination into the gigantic still entertainment of the highways. When it was you and me, holding hands as we approach the exit. We’ve had a lot of when-it-was-you-and-me’s and I wonder if we would still be able to experience it. Relive it.

As I watch a local super heroine on television, feel and succumb to the dew scent of the house, linger for warm soft feel of the early morning bread of salt, I wonder. Wonder what the next step is. It’s still you-and-me, and it has been two years. Two years of happiness, pain, understanding, fear, and love. Let’s anticipate. Let’s move on. Let’s grow. Together.

It’s still you-and-me. I believe that’s what’s important now.