Bring back my darling to me.

They sing my Bonnie lies over the ocean, my Bonnie lies over the sea.

My darling lies over the ocean, so bring back my darling to me, to me. Bring back, bring back, bring back my darling to me, to me. Bring back, bring back, bring back my darling to me. Last night as I lay on my pillow, Last night as I lay on my bed, last night as I lay on my pillow, I dreamed that my darling was dead...

Bring back, bring back, bring back my Dar--- Bonnie to me, to me.

The sound of our voices.

She sings the sound of our voices made us forget everything that ever hurt our feelings.

I pulled up the patch blanket that I wrapped myself around with and stretched over to adjust the fan - it was blowing so strongly. It made me feel really cold. When I stretched far enough, I saw that it was at medium speed and changed it to low speed instead. It still made noise though.

So I turned back and laid back down and fell asleep... Some people say I frown when I sleep, others say I sleep expressionlessly - like everybody else. What amuses me is that you are the only one who's seen me smiling in my sleep. It's strange, yet comforting to know.

What a girl wants, what a girl needs, whatever keeps me in your arms. I'm thanking you for being there for me.

I am supposed to be good with dates.

She said damnit. You're a freak.

I could remember dates really well. I remember those days that are important to me, those days that I constantly play over in my head again and again. Those days I'll never forget. Oh, but sometimes I just forget the dates and it agitates me so. Like now.

What was the date, hmm? May something, was it not? A day, which I could say, was rather memoriable and pretty much wonderful and almost, magical. I liked the big chair and the horsey! And running our hands through the different jeans of different sizes. That was fun.

I can't remember the date. Do you remember, to be begin with?

You're a loved one. Didn't know?

She said she needed space.

Snowy likes food, she'd eat anything nice from anybody - it doesn't have to matter who. Give a piece of banana to a stranger to feed her, and she'd eat it, without a doubt. She likes bananas and all sort of other food. Perhaps if the strange kept feeding her she'll even get to trust him.

She's so simple-minded, yes, but she's so happy at the same time. Well, I haven't caught her attempting suicide any time before, neither has she turned her back on the entire world. She never growls at any of us, telling us to stay away, without a reason. She will never bite us either, I trust that. But, on the other hand, I'll never know.

Never guess because people can get more unexpected than you'd ever expect.

Sorry, kids.

Mummy made it simple with her classic one word answer - no.

I was supposed to sleep at 10.30pm, early. So I told myself at least. Just the way I was supposed to have completed all my trigo worksheets of the past few days by now. I had told myself I would do so, night after night - 13.1, 13.2, 13.3. I never really got to it huh.

And then I realised that my plan had been spoilt.

You and me.

He sings wouldn't it be nice if we were older?

One day, it wouldn't be them anymore, okay, baby?

Say the right things.

She said I don't want y'all.

Don't tell a blind man how beautiful the rainbow outside is, or how green the grass. Don't talk to a convict about guilt. Don't tell an orphan that he's missing out on the magnificence of the warmth of family. Don't talk to a beggar of luxurious living standards.

You won't see any blind man talking about darkness. You won't see a guilty convict talking about muder or crime. You won't see an orphan talking about parents or birthdays spent with families. You probably will never see a beggar boasting about the beauties of his grand mansion.

You don't need to tell a racer that they're missing out on the good things as they let the world rush by. You won't see a racer talk about grazing cows instead of blurs of white and black on green. They'll probably never understand, or want to stop to understand, the beauty of everything in its slow-mo.

Keep on running, speeding, fading away into the distance.

The little scar on my right hand.

She asked me why I was crying.

I was eleven when I got the scar on my right hand. A dog bite, actually. It was this big, white, mongrel dog. It had these huge black, innocent eyes. But it's owner was not all that great an owner, it didn't even have a proper leash - but only a rope, a blue rope, tied around its neck.

I told them that the dog had ran over to bite me on the hand. Truth is - I actually went up to the dog, I just never told them. I was afraid. Oh, how I remember the moment when my hand was in its mouth - too risky for me to pull and have my skin torn. I just stood and stared.

While I was in my uncle's Mercedes as he drove me to the doctor's, I looked out of the window as my mum asked if I was fine. I nodded, and suddenly tears started to stream down my face, my mum held me in her arms. She asked if the pain was too unbearable. I shook my head. She said she understood and told me to dry my tears, it's going to be fine.

I didn't know why I was crying, really.

'Cause it's you and me.

He glared at me, saying I don't want to ever see you sitting next to her.

One pull-up did you say? Well, how I wish I could have been there to cheer you on, to have seen it for my own eyes. That'd be nice, just to see you. Two, did you say? How did you manage to, may I ask? The rest didn't get to do one, you say? So, how did you?

So, tell me, what can you do about it?

Even my tongue's green.

I had free-writing today, and wrote on favouritism.

I was walking home, thinking of Snowy, without any particular reason. It was then when I recalled the first time we brought her home - a puppy of 6 months, as tiny as my two open palms, fur as soft as cotton and temperament as timid and shy as she can ever be. She was adorable! It was love at first sight...

I was five and when I sat down with my knees propped up, she crawled right underneath and fell asleep. It was in the first hour of owning her when she did that and it melted my heart. I called for my sister who was busying herself with doggy websites in the studyroom.

She ran out and smiled at the adorable sight of the puppy asleep, for the first time, in my house. My sister gently sat herself next to me. This was when Snowy woke up and stared at her, confused and dazed. Still half-asleep, she titled her head from left to right, looking bemused.

Slowly, she got up and left the spot from underneath my knees and lay in my sisters laps. She fell asleep there and stayed that way for almost an hour. That night was the night that she cried herself to sleep though - whining the entire night through. Of course, though, I was in too deep sleep to hear her. But, of course, my sister did.

I know I'm gonna do poorly. Same goes.

I'm staring out into the night.

He sings trying to hide the pain.

I stop breathing, stop moving, stop thinking and for a moment, I just close my eyes and listen - really really hard. I hear the soft humming of my failing computer speakers as some rock music plays, together with the tapping of my stiff traditional keyboard.

And then I hear a slight breeze by my ear, my brother's fingertips on his keyboards tapping away, the mouse frantically clicking. I hear his speakers blaring Dota sound effects as the cars along the main road grine against the tar coated roads. But yet, I don't hear fighter jets, strangely.

I hear this blaring buzz but I don't think it's it. Probably an annoying motorcycle passing by. I hear Wei Qin's voice though, mumbling in mandarin and it starts to crescendo as she gets more involved in conversation with my brother and seems to get a little excited with what she has to say. Oh, he begins to mumble back, deep and quiet.

No, no fighter jets tonight, unfortunately. Not that there aren't any in the skies but I just can't hear them, no matter how hard I listen out. I know a few of them just flew past us, high above in the skies. But I didn't see them, or hear them. Even though they're out there, I guess the distance limits the hearing range.

But I don't need to hear them to belive that they are there. I know that the fighter jets always fly past once in a while, no matter the time of the day. Even if it's not in the country's region, somewhere on earth, at least one fighter jet's high up in the sky, I believe. So, even without black-and-white proof, I believe the jets are up there. Somewhere.

And the pain you feel's a different kind of pain.

Remind me, will you?

He pleads just give me five more minutes, please.

One step left and then one step forward. Is that right? Oh, how I'd love to slow dance without stumbling, without hesistating. But I'm horrible at coordinating, I realised recently. They say that when you lead a dance, you gently tug at her hand to signal your next step. I'm guessing if you're really close, you'd have to move your shoulders...

Shall we dance?

You're a part-time lover, and a full-time friend.

She sings I don't see what anyone can see in anyone else, but you.

Like a recipe of a wonderful tasting dish, it consists of different ingredients which, individually may be so different in taste and texture but yet, put togther, it tastes magical. Like gingerbread men for example. I hate cinammon alone, or flour or ginger or malt but when baked with the right consistency, these 4 ingredients taste magnificent.

With the right measurements of everything, it can taste great. Just like the story of how Powerpuff girls came about - Sugar, spice, and everything nice. These were the ingredients chosen to create the perfect little girl. But Professor Utonium accidentally added an extra ingredient to the concoction: Chemical X! Thus the Powerpuff Girls were born!

Oh, but magical concoctions only come around once in a while. Be it between different food ingredients, instrumental context, flower arrangements, lines in a poem or even, people. So, when you get the right concoctions, take it down, grip it tight, don't forget it, keep it in mind.

Most importantly - don't ever, ever let it go.

Already over.

He sings it's already over.

Before an exam, we're expected to study our guts out to do well "with flying colous". Yes, but after that? We're still expected to study aren't we? Constant revision, punctual handing in of assignments. So, some ask what's the difference this way? I realised, recently, though - it's a world of difference.

So long, farewell, bye bye? No way.