After weeks of feeling down, I've come to realise that you have the eq of a double cheesburger. Possibly and probably not, but I think faking it is worse.

Him: "How come you haven't been talking to me?"
Me: "It's hard to.. seeing you everyday is painful"
H: Really? Is it my face?
M: No.
H: Shucks it must be my tummy then. How? How to get rid of it?
M: Stop it, you're making me sad.
H: You should eat a double cheeseburger, it works.
M: Really? How come it doesn't seem to work for me?
H: You need to eat one everyday.
M: No it doesn't, I've tried.
H: Why, what did I do?
M: What did you do? How can you even ask me that?

At this moment, I can't help but tear. He pats me on my back but all I want to do is shrug it away and scream don't touch me. But I don't. Because sher appears at the door faraway. And I regret tearing and looking so weak and pathetic. So I rush to the toilet and pretend that I actually needed it.

And so the double cheeseburger has found his cheese. It really hurts when the guys make references to her. I don't want to hear about it anymore, but I have to. Because I eat every single lunch with them, and I spend almost every single hour in the hospital with them. ****. I just want to go home and cry, and not pretend like I'm happy. I really want to forget you.

From tomorrow, there is to be no more memories of sgh e-med, kite-runner, jogging, juno, binjai park, salsa, jazz piano, greenwd av, reverse bungee, west coast macs, the s. ridges, and flowers at the airport.