to me, you are

Inspired by What You Are To Me by Chelsea Fagan.

To me, you are 5.00 p.m. The rain just stopped. It was incredibly sunny but dripping wet. And extremely windy. The grass and the tress were saturated with colour. Rain made them brighter in shade. I'm outside sitting on a white porch chair with a cup of Milo, a long overdue History homework and Yuna on my iPod. My fat tabby cat curled up on the chair opposite of mine. Purring. You are that perfect afternoon in this ever terrible climate.

To me, you are the smell of garlic stir- fried in oil waiting for another ingredient to be put into the pan when I pass by the kitchen on the way home from school. The smell of home cooking. The feeling I get when I realized that something good is cooking in the kitchen which is a rare sight when the house is in the midst of renovation. You are the smell of affection and love in the form of food.

You are the time I scrolled through HBO's movie list and magically found a screening of Nick and Norah's Infinite Playlist at let's say, primetime. I get that warm, fuzzy feeling that someone out there in HBO Asia's office appreciates Nick and Norah. Appreciates good music though in reality, they were simply paid to air the movie. I still felt happy anyway.

You are a song. False Start by Furniture.You're pretty. You're upbeat. You lift me up. You made me dance around trying to mimic the lyricless beginning of the song. You are my ringtone. Actually, I rephrase. You are a few songs, actually. You are the Temper Trap's Sweet Disposition. Simply because that's what you are, honestly. You are Khottal. YMFT. Truly.

You are 4.00 a.m. I'm alone. I looked up the sky and there were a sea of stars. And a moon. I have never seen a sight like it before. I had yet to turn fifteen but I have seen the gorgeous Subang skyline. I was in a mosque. Hurriedly dressed up but I smelled like Victoria's Secret. I had an amazing laugh- until- you- burst- into- tears night. I was away from home. I saw the stars. I was utterly and completely happy. You are that.

Sometimes, you're not all that happy parts. You are an afternoon where I slept the whole day just so I don't have to face anything. With Dido on, of course. There are times when you are a Sufian Abas excerpt. You are sad, deep, stupid and I'm the fool. Most of the times like this, you are a bad, overrated K-pop band with a penchant for gauzy suits, tarty platinum blonde hair and awful English pronunciation.

You are this big lump of things. Both good and bad. Like a chocolate crumble soft cookie and I'm looking for the chocolatey gooey part. Sometimes there's a lot of it. Sometimes I can't even find any but when I found it, I'm ecstatic and I'm savouring every second of it. You are inhuman. You are a chocolate crumble soft cookie. Nuff said. Now, can someone drive me to Subway to get one? No? I'll die a little inside then, for tonight.

Current Location: perched on a clock

Current Mood: waiting for 7.30 p.m. to strike

Current Music: Everyone's Starting Over (Diggs cover)- Beat Radio

To anyone out there, if you're reading, check out Beat Radio.