missing you

I miss everything so much that it's slowly beginning to wrap me in. I've been looking at all our old photos. The 6 of us. I remember the journey there, when we stopped over at Bangkok and me and Imran went to smoke and the rest followed. There was no ventilation, it was all weird and queer and walking from one end of the terminal to get to the other end where our continuing flight to Los Angeles would be.

I remember watching The Sound of Music and falling asleep and waking up only to realise the show was still playing. Imran drinking wine so that he could sleep and the boys watching LOST whilst we were on our 2 hour trip to Bangkok.

I remember when we reached LA and Shaikha was there waiting for us for awhile. She took SIA and the 5 of us were on Thai Airways. A reunion of sorts. Trying to occupy our time whilst waiting 6 hours for the domestic flight into Oklahoma. Sleeping on my cabin bag, taking photos and random shots. Looking like hell because we were so exhausted. Starbucks and little children running around. Oakley galore and cute army boys coming back from Iraq.

Touching down and Ajit losing his bag in San Fran. The rest of the gang and waiting for our rooms to get cleared. 4 girls to a house, me and Shaikha (my closet slut) sharing a bed with Kris and Xiao Wan below. The kitchenette and the toilet with the hair dryer that Xiao Wan often used. Watching repeats on the cartoon channel when I was alone at home and who could forget, Walmart.

Dyeing my virgin thick hair, snipping off my hair so I'd get bangs. Oklahoma City University sweatshirts and television production lessons with me getting pissed at Karlie for being such a biased bitch. Scandals amongst the teachers and the tornado hitting us 5 minutes away. Reno and Main street. Donny the driver and stopping over at petrol kiosks so the gang (or rather just Imran and Kris) could buy Budweiser and get wasted at night.

The sofabed where the guys sometimes crashed. Mike and his hair-less legs. Running around the compound and working out. Freezing cold weather and smoking outside the house in the dead of the night. Microwaved macaroni and cheese, our clam chowder, talking late into the night. The night I found out my dad got hospitalised, crying and being hugged like a little girl.

Shaikha, you'll always be my big sister. My friend and compadre. My bed-mate. My scandal. Haha.

Imran's our big brother. All big and fierce but a gentle jolly giant. The chef, the cook, the leader. Cursing and giving us all scandalous monickers. Listening to Duets and singing. Looking after all of us, protection, my smoking kaki.

Mike, another big brother. Watching anime and accompanying me as I bought my camera. Quiet and his stoned look. Talks about life and relationships on the way back home. My buddy for the arduous flight back from LA to Bangkok and then to Singapore. Running mate and bus-mate.

You three have been the most influential. And now, even when work's got us all bogged down, there's still those memories and the bond.

It would have been another 5 days to a year since we all met up at Changi Airport and took the plane. Almost a year since we spent three weeks in close quarters with each other, learning and getting used to the idosyncracies and eccentricities. Bitching together about the students from the other classes. Bonding together as a whole.

I wish I could live it all back again. This time, differently. I wish we were back there once more, having the time of our lives.

These kinda wishes don't come true. Could have beens. Might have beens. Would have beens.

I miss you all.