At times when I’m feeling a little down, I like to sit by Sungei Whampoa, a storm water drain near my house, in the still of the night with some music and booze to just chill. But of late, it seems, melancholy has found company.
Been here a couple of times with a new acquaintance who’s turning out to be a real trooper and friend. Our connection could be linked by the fact that we’re both the only child in the family so we’re like the sibling we never had. Talking may not solve the problems but it’s therapeutic to hear ourselves articulate and identify our fears and frustrations. It’s as if we’re each other’s bridge across troubled dirty longkang (drain) waters.
I find that the more we talk about our secrets, the less they become secretive and cease to hold us captive to shame or embarrassment. Frankly, in these times where scandals are everyday staples of online news, nothing really shocks anyone anymore. So the sooner we get over our past, the quicker we castrate the woes, rendering them impotent to erect pains in our asses.
