Taking my seat beside my colleague at the end of the bus, I expected the bus ride to be just like the others: a trip down the comatose lane, into dream plains. That was until a familiar face popped into sight when I looked up from my newspaper at the very next stop.

It was a face I have not seen for 6 years. It was a face which have not changed much. She was my junior in junior college and one of the few female members in our AVA Club. Although our relationship was purely professional and we were never close, she was outgoing, cheerful and kind, and her presence was absolutely delightful. Memories of her were always heartwarming.

She took her place a seat away. And I was hesitant about actually initiating dialogue. It was that awkward feeling when you see someone you have not met in years. You simply do not know what to do or what to say.

A stranger took the seat between the two of us. Doing what the usual working class do when they are sitting on the homebound bus, she nodded off into sleep. And once in a while, I cannot help throwing a sideway glance her way.

Neither the six years nor her training in Business Studies in NTU did much to her; she is still more dressed more for ultility and comfort rather than presentation. She wore neither much make up nor expensive accessories, which is rare for a university graduate in Shenton. It was a place where presentation matters as much as ability, a place where brands scream for attention, where Mont Blanc pens are more common that Pilot pens. In a place where women are seen as mere decorations for their Prada bags and designer shirts and ties are seen spotting men, she was a rare sight. I looked at her hands: no rings. I surprised myself thinking that most girls my age are getting married.

I wanted so much to talk to her, to find out what she has been up to, to just talk to her again, but I could not bring myself to open my mouth. There was just something holding me back...

And just what was holding me back? I did not know and I do not know.

Am I afraid that she is no longer the girl I knew her to be, sweet, kind and frank? Or am I afraid that I have changed so much that she can no longer recognize me? Or to show that I was never the person she thought that I am? Am I afraid of the seemingly eternal silence that occurs when we can no longer proceed beyond the formalities? Am I unable to face the prospects of having an embarrassing distance of years of separation? Or maybe it is because there are already too many people in my life? And that I do not want to have someone else in it, especially when I cannot afford them my time and attention?

Maybe it is just that I do not want to destroy her impression of me, as a guy who is always cheerful, helpful and yet a little enigmatic. Over the years, my dark, brooding nature has taken over me, my training in philosophy is nothing short of a headlong plunge into skepticism, nihilism and solipsism. Knowledge in science has only reinforced my idea that nothing is planned and we are but the result of an accident that we called Big Bang. I carry too many of my own demons and my presence in most people's lives have created nothing short of upheavals. Maybe it is best that I leave her alone.

Maybe it is best that I do not talk to her.

Maybe it is best that I do not talk to anyone.

She might be a stranger now, strange to me, and stranger than she ever was.

She was just a seat away, just a seat that seemed to span light years. The span of six years seemed like an eternity. Such distance is almost too painful to bear.

Yet, the fond memories binds me to her image across time and space, and the more precious they are, the less I want to risk them. I want to embrace them, yet fear that they might crumble before my very eyes at my very touch.

I am very equipped to deal with changes and I am already resigned to impermanence, but I hate them all the same. I have learnt to walk away from a lot of things, learnt to accept that a lot of things are beyond our abilities to change, learnt that a lot of things are not worth breaking our hearts for, learnt that some things are just "like that", learnt to live my life one day at a time, learnt that memories can be too painful to bear, learnt that love can be a burden too heavy to shoulder, learnt that ten years of oblivion is preferable to one minute of consciousness, learnt that hope refuses to die, even if it does not know what it is hoping for....

I had learnt too much too soon: I took twenty five years to learn when I was given seventy five. Now I have so much more to watch them all coming true, over and over again....

If there is one thing I wish for more than anything else in the world, it is to have someone prove me wrong, that I am so fucking wrong.

And if there is no one in the world, hell, I guess I have to do it myself.

So let my mind be my blade, and my madness run myself through.

I suppose as with my usual practice towards chanced meeting; if lightning does strike the same place twice, if I am to meet her again, I will go up to her and say "Hi".

The above is dedicated to all my friends even those who may never read these pages.

To a friendship that we try so hard to maintain, try so hard to keep at being nothing but friends, try so hard not to let this beautiful touch fade away. We live in beauty but also in fear of losing it.

A toast to the efforts.