The haze is bad man...my eyes are super dry...which makes it super painful with my contact lens on!!! Today...many teachers also no mood to teach...hahaha! Especially Pn. Siti...she's unusually quiet today... I hated english period...i seriously can't stand the way he TALKS!!! I miss Pn. Regina...hope she's ok now...>.< So kesian her man...but sometimes her mood can really change like Malaysian weather! So scary =S Another thing i can't believe...Shaza is on the Seventeen Magazine!!! She made it to the top10 on Star Search! Chunted man!!! Chang Jia Wei also...but she looks SO DIFFERENT in the pics with Big Tits...Roxy wanted to sign contract with Shaza...but she said she DOESN'T FEEL LIKE SIGNING...SWEAT!!! How can u NOT FEEL LIKE IT?!?!?! Haihz...wasted... Argh!!! I so headache now!!! With all the haze...and the stupid add Maths project >.< Grrr...now i have to beg my mom to get back to streamyx!!! Argh...

has passed before my eyes since they first gazed at her has been perfectly clear (almost painfully so). She was taller, wiser, and happier than I was.

I lied to everyone I knew to be alone with her for one night. We went to a dance club and didn't dance, choosing to sit in a dark corner and share even darker secrets. The night ended at her empty house, lying parallel on her bedroom floor –- her stereo softly playing the second side of "Ritual de lo Habitual". It was there in that dark room that I performed the bravest act of my life: slowly and deliberately moving my hand against hers and gently taking it in mine. When I awoke, our hands were still clasped.

I sat up and felt like ... actually, there aren't words in our primitive ape-minds to describe the sense of wonder and life that I experienced in that short moment.

We shared everything in the following year -- secrets, fears, and our own bodies -- but I never felt the way that I did that first night. I don't think that she did either, but I never had a chance to ask.

After a year she went away to college. I wrote letters explaining that I missed her, and she wrote letters back repeating the same thing in a different way, but in the end they were all just words poorly spelled on college-ruled paper.

I called her one afternoon from a pay phone two years after that first evening, and she didn't have to explain that she had found someone else. I already knew.

It's been six years now since I hung up that phone. I moved away, went to school, and moved back again in those years. Sometimes, when I am sitting by myself, I catch myself staring at the phone before I can figure out just who it is that I want to be on the other end when it rings. It is at that point that I realize her voice won't ever be there when I answer it.

That is the pain of losing your first love, and no matter how much time passes, or how much love I find with someone else, that pain never goes away.

Voir dires
1.

Roomcheck here now, torn up and craned
over unless you do me up proper-like.
Oh guard-fluffer, oh combover, cue
that royal look of yours, tinkled in protest.
Cos I'm not leaving. We will deep-hang here,
spill drinks over each other's laps,
look for small mistakes no one else will see.
No telling who will be out by Friday.
No word yet from finale-themed company men.
No fulfilling-service yet, in the company of.
Word is—fanned hands now—today.

2.

Fade-itemed, you shouldn't have,
you shouldn't have signaled to me just now.
Just help or understand me or at least fucking fake it.
Get down on this rug with me. C'mon.
Get down on on the clean clean floor.
Happiness is maybe tomorrow's thing-to-do.
But for today, it's all about you,
you there with the pillows-piled and the stuffed bears,
you feeling me? I mention train tracks, a couple coins,
failed attempts at Paul Bunyan tales.
But what's left is just a barking inside.
I was born in the South; I know dramatic theater;
it's part of my blood. All I can do is constrain it.
Cue drum roll, a drama-filled hum of just-knowing.
Cue young people who want their voice to be heard,
for they do not understand me—even when I myself was young.
Even cranes, even pistons, even apples,
even in this city of clumped-up canals and a millionaire's row—
even the monuments have those thick inscrutable wires.

3.

Dim the lights. To see them say it. Get nasty. Or elusive.
Nuff. God bless. Dismissed. What did you say? I didn't understand.
I was not receptive to your questions. I was not intelligent enough.
Scars. Nuff. Proceed. Make it hard. What have I got?
Does it remind me of then? I mean, what you're talking about now?
And what does it remind people or folks or who are not familiar of "then"?
Honestly, I don't know, all I know, so help me God,
is that when I dance, it's a full-on, two-bill experience.
Best to move outta the way and emend it.
For what about is to happen—the calling-over,
the what-is-your-occupation, the admonitions,
yours to you, you if you want it, me if you don't—
it is a body-filled nothing, pimped-up, wood-empaneled nothing.
And I knew you'd never talk.