Saturday, October 22, 2005
As we go on
We remember
All the times we had together
And as our lives change come whatever
We will still be friends forever
friends forever?
novelty dies off like the fading of a sunset
the ebb of a receding tide..
yeah sure while the confetti's still swirling and the champagne's still flowing the promises of 'friends forever' and 'meet up soon' hang on the edges of everyone's lips, spilling over without much thought, yet how soon is 'soon'? 1month at first? Then a year? Then 10yrs? Fairy dust works its magic just that once.. whatever we stir up in the future will be remnants, memories that languish on the windowsill of our conscious mind. Its not that i dont believe or look forward to the days of our reunion, its just the difference that will hang between us, a transcient curtain, inconspicuous but there all the same. At sweet sixteen, decked out in the identical uniforms that mark us as a product of the same factory, our ideals, hopes and very lives arent that different (and im not referring to the "What I wanna Be when I GrowUp" crap). Then the factory realeases us, products of the same batch but bound for different destinies. Do we cross paths again? hopefully among the tightly bonded ones. Certainly the eight of us i hope.
Sharm to welcome us into one of her highly acclaimed chain of cafes, ever the enterprising business woman;
Van striding in, sharp as the minute hand on her cartier, confidence billowing in her wake - the rising 'Woman MP of the Year";
Clara, well, being Clara giggling over our highly censored topics of conversation;
Yuelin with no, not kids but her award-winning publications in tow, a steady stream of rings and beeps on the mobile calling her to book launches and seminars;
Sam keeping up the juggling act with a flourishing career AND the 'soccer mum' bit;
Lyn prancing in, her Prada bag hanging off one arm and her version No.2 (bimbo in the making) hanging off the other, WHILE making arrangements for yet another mahjong session;
Mich hot-footing it in with her oh-so-preetteh Nine West heels, an Hermes clutch to rival Lyn's Prada, the Shenton executive turned man-eater on saturday nights;
And lastly,me. Me the ever-cynical oddball designer (albeit pauper) sliding out self-engineered invitations to the launch of my latest line of apparel.
Dream we all can. Dictating it to Fate we all try so hard. Having it perfect nobody can and nobody will.
Well,we'll all see.
Adieu my friends
||| out of tune at 4:51 PM
