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This Just In.

Like Paris Hilton's single, the girl whom you a few months ago kept creeping into your mind on repeat. Thing is that you don't even listen to pop, so how the hell did that song, like her, sneak in there making you hum along. Every moment you're awake, the thoughts somehow seems to return to something related to her.

In her company, you seem to lose sense of time and space when you're usually quite grounded and aware of your surroundings. You stayed out with her until 5 am when the self imposed curfew was originally midnight because you had to wake up at 7 the next day to attend class. You could spend an entire day just watching her without getting bored for even a moment. Walking down Orchard on a crowded Sunday, the only thing you noticed is that strand of hair that hung down the side of her face. You remember the color of her contacts on the second day you met when you usually have trouble remembering people's faces after meeting them for a week. There isn't anything you wouldn't do for this girl. No thought to spending $300 on something for her when you only have $9.52 in the bank and an e-z link card.

She is gorgeous and stunningly beautiful, but that isn't why you're interested and totally infatuated. You were more excited seeing that sliver of skin between her jeans and tank top than any porn sites you "stumbled" across. You'd give anything to be alone with her for a night in a hotel room, but it's more than that. It's that feeling somewhere between your chest and stomach that makes you want to see her day in and day out. She's the one that, even with a few moments a day or a short chat on the phone, could make you smile when your usual facial expression is neutral.

You write and rewrite every simple SMS with such vigor that if you did the same with your papers you'd be sure to graduate with highest honors and distinction. Every reply message is anticipated with much excitement and then dissected and analysed in such a detailed manner that Mindef would call you up to decode secrets for them. When you think of her, your stomach does flip flops and your hands feel like they're dripping water. The number of hits on her blog in a day from you alone would rival the clicks on Google and Yahoo combined. Every time her MSN signs on, you are tempted more than an alcoholic let loose in the Tiger Beer brewery. But she doesn't know.

Then it hits you like the smell of durians. Maybe you did or said something that scared her away, or maybe you're a pessimist, or maybe you found out she has a boyfriend. He doesn't appreciate her and doesn't have any redeeming qualities, while you have 84, even during a hangover. But you're too nice to disturb her happiness, so you try to give some space. You can only hope for a second chance with her, to learn from the mistakes you made. Either way, your chances with her aren't what you thought they were. So you're forced to write an article that says how you really feel, which could be taken the wrong way.

So cut this out and give it to her, see what happens and then move on without the regret of not trying enough. (Tell me how it goes)

by Aston Lim, UC Santa Barbara
editted by Shamsofcourse


This Just In.