I'm The Girl

neonangel2
Originally uploaded by neonangel.

Inspired by the funky on-going Tomorrow meme as seen in this link - Who We Are
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I'm the girl who loved how your familiar brown van coasted through the neighbourhood every night; who watched you uncover your magical tin trays, and bought slices of coarse, crumbly fruit cake and pink-green layered bread with cheap buttercream from your weathered hands.

I'm the girl whose first loves were Bob the kind piano man on Sesame Street, Bruce Sato from M.A.S.K and Remington Steele; the girl who hates snakes so much that the only unread volume of her Encyclopedia Britannica series is volume "S".

I'm the girl who you had water hose battles with while sitting in tin wash-tubs; the one who fought alongside with you in red ant-killing missions at the mango tree; the one who allowed you to barbecue her Strawberry Shortcake toys because "pagan sacrifice" sounded like a fun new sand pit game; the one who carefully helped you dig tunnels and caves in your ice-kachang; the one who you grilled hamburgers for; the one who you once piledrived, body slammed and broke her glasses; the one who you happily converted to nerdy boy hobbies for life.

I'm the girl who once thought the height of cool was writing "Cool!" in gold glitter across a neon pink t-shirt and walking out in it with matching neon pink socks.

I'm the girl who was once convinced she could talk Saddam out of the first Gulf War because she felt maybe he never had a real friend.

I'm the girl you once donated $50 to "for your nice smile" when she was a 15 year old stranger sticking a charity tin can in your face; the girl who at 28 still thinks of your tiny act of kindness every time someone says Singaporeans are all selfish.

I'm the girl who hid in the shower because she was so convinced that she managed to crush the car with you in it by pressing the door remote control too fast; the girl who you carried to bed every night when she fell asleep watching tv; the girl who never forgot how you dashed to Popular Bookstore for supplies and stayed up to cut little styrofoam continents to form a stupid styrofoam world map just so she could hand up her "holiday homework"; the girl who you reminded daily, "It doesn't matter if you want to be a roadsweeper, just be the best roadsweeper."; the girl who you once walloped with hard slippers and 10 cent "tian tiao" canes; the girl who you called when your own mother died, to ask her to pray even though you did not believe in her God.

I'm the girl who played Debbie GIbson while you were Kylie Minogue; who was Great Exploress Lady Serena Tenzing while you were Great Exploress Lady Erica Hillary; who wrote imaginary magazine editorials so that we could be celebrity explorer/pop stars instead of dorky convent school girls; the girl who recorded our great non-hit wonder "The Mystery of the Growing Pizza" in your room; the girl who never lets you forget you once thought Macbeth was a hamburger.

I'm the girl who you played Barbie Dolls meet Sweet Valley HIgh with; the one who you mugged PSLE with in between practicing Richard Clayderman pieces ; the one who ate Yami Yogurt at Parkway Parade with; the one who shielded you from your domineering, plastic-hammer wielding mother and crazy-ass principal; the one who you once convinced so well that everybody hated her so she would pathetically consider jumping off the second floor to escape teenage hell; the one who you have always confused with your schizo ways.

I'm the girl who you called "just like King RIchard - all words and no substance" when she handed up a pedantic literature essay; the same girl who drew you a picture of your favourite Thomas Hardy heroine because you apologised for being a crotchety old teacher.

I'm the girl who thought the End was truly near when the Twin Towers collapsed; the girl who found meaning watching you light a candle after candle, despite your advanced age and chinese-ness, at the National Stadium in honour of the dead.

I'm the girl whom you stopped to ask the time at Capitol Building and proceeded to dazzle for one Before Sunset-like hour with your Hollywood looks and a non-stop conversation about local politics and society's idiosyncrasies in front of Breadtalk; the girl who you took out at midnight to look at a bridge your uncle built to talk for hours about charity, architecture and Robert Frost poetry; the girl you danced too closely to; the girl who you bought flowers for, on her last night in California and never said a word to about what you felt until it was too late and too darn wierd; the girl who you conned into filling up her details on a comic shop membership card so you could call her up and creep her out by telling her you stood right behind her at a newspaper stand in Kallang but did not want to say hi; I'm the girl who you did not choose. I'm the girl who you did choose but did not choose you back.

I'm the girl who once wanted to go out and deliberately make One Great Mistake because she was convinced that mistakes were the only way to learn about life; the girl who is relieved that she never ever succeeded at that mission.

I'm the girl who raises empty hands to You in praise to remember that is all she has to bring to Your Throne; the girl who imagines You graciously placing Your hands right back in those empty palms in a clasp of assurance; the girl who will not forget how deeply You have rewritten the script of her life.

I'm that girl. Who are you?