somewhere a clock is ticking
Eight months is a long time. School's starting tomorrow and here we are, at the last few hours of this extended holiday. Do you not wonder how have we changed in these past eight months and how will we change in the next eight?
* * *
After staying up the whole night getting our faces painted and our hair done, after a midnight feast of pizza (haiku reference - "cheryl eats pizza / like a hippo on steriods / patrick not happy"), after futile attempts to sleep on the plank-covered track at 4am in the morning, after putting on lipstick in the dark with only mobile phone lighting,
After 3 occasions of ordering almost 100 bucks worth macdees for supper/breakfast after going through full run after full run, after countless amusing experiments with social dynamics, after those sleepovers (during which we never slept much) when we camped it out in the stinky law lounge on the bed-bug infested sofas, after 4am conversations about less-than-perfect lives, flexible moral standards and common peeves, after watching the boys play soccer in the moot court topless, after literature-centered conversations followed by frivolous top5 discussions, after skipping and singing songs ranging from coldplay to national day songs to chinese oldies to army songs out loud en route to temasek hall to shower in the dead of the night,
After getting bruises all over your torso and yourself kicked in the groin thanks to your "sex tonight" partner, after getting your hair pulled as she attempted to avoid a crash landing, after discoveries of our inabilities to sew (for most), after looking ridiculous during smile exercises where we would sit down and all flash our most gay smile at each other, after holding hands and visualising the entire dance as one entity,
Four weeks of rehearsals culminated to a near-brilliant performance.
The three-tier went up, the shoulder stands were superbly stable, the sex tonight stunts were never more on time and the smiles were at their most genuine and most charming.
There just aint no better way to bond ( : We just have to keep at it.
* * *
After staying up the whole night getting our faces painted and our hair done, after a midnight feast of pizza (haiku reference - "cheryl eats pizza / like a hippo on steriods / patrick not happy"), after futile attempts to sleep on the plank-covered track at 4am in the morning, after putting on lipstick in the dark with only mobile phone lighting,
After 3 occasions of ordering almost 100 bucks worth macdees for supper/breakfast after going through full run after full run, after countless amusing experiments with social dynamics, after those sleepovers (during which we never slept much) when we camped it out in the stinky law lounge on the bed-bug infested sofas, after 4am conversations about less-than-perfect lives, flexible moral standards and common peeves, after watching the boys play soccer in the moot court topless, after literature-centered conversations followed by frivolous top5 discussions, after skipping and singing songs ranging from coldplay to national day songs to chinese oldies to army songs out loud en route to temasek hall to shower in the dead of the night,
After getting bruises all over your torso and yourself kicked in the groin thanks to your "sex tonight" partner, after getting your hair pulled as she attempted to avoid a crash landing, after discoveries of our inabilities to sew (for most), after looking ridiculous during smile exercises where we would sit down and all flash our most gay smile at each other, after holding hands and visualising the entire dance as one entity,
Four weeks of rehearsals culminated to a near-brilliant performance.
The three-tier went up, the shoulder stands were superbly stable, the sex tonight stunts were never more on time and the smiles were at their most genuine and most charming.
There just aint no better way to bond ( : We just have to keep at it.
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