(p/s: I used to have this posted inside my blog a few months ago but I removed it the day after due to some 'internal' problem. Oh well, here it goes again..)


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I slowly tore the fancy wrapper, wondering what could reside inside the square box. It feels heavy and I�m sure it�s another clay or ceramic mold. Ah, a jewelry box. Decorated with pretty clay flowers of pastel colors and metal-surrounded edges. Turned it around to see the remnant of Lovely Lace price tag sticker. My mind suddenly took a reverse three years back, the time when I was struggling real hard to adapt with strict rules and regulations.

That time was when I felt the thing people call love, though I somehow still live in denial of ever considering that one as my first love. Even the words FIRST LOVE makes me cringe. What does FIRST LOVE actually mean? The time when you have your very first boyfriend/girlfriend? Or the person who respects and treats you good as well as making you happy most of the time, even when you�re having the time of your life? Say whatever you think is right, but I don�t think I�ve ever encountered such.

Seeing the box, it quickly reminds me of those days. I was a girl with no experience of love and to be loved. (does this phrase ring your bell?). It was a delightful and wonderful experience. The idea of someone who cares for you and gets jealous when you mention about other guys is somehow cool.

For 18 years, I�ve never had any actual knowledge about this touchy feely thingy as I was still enjoying my every single moment fooling around with friends, exchanging our wild, typical-girl dreams of our favorite singers and actors and gossiping about this and that. Yeah, those were the days. Other buds of mine did sometimes talking about their guys and girls but at that moment, I would throw a blank face and go all �Aaaannnnnddd�.?�.

I reached for the big box containing all the treasures I kept during my matrix year to take out one pink Moschino box. The container where I put The Book. It was the results of my creativity with old piece of ex- susu tepung box as the main covers, thread and dry twig to bind every page together, and Fererro Roches� aluminum foils as the decorations. The pages are of the black sugar papers, cut with desired measurement.

So, I�ve decided to make it as my �love life� book, where I put any memorable times I spend with my guy.

That day came when I get to know this guy. It never was the relationship where you get the chance to go for dates every week. We were separated by distance. Basically I don�t mind about it but there were times when I questioned myself of how far would this lead to. We only got the chance of two dates and it lasted for more than 2 months but never survive to the third.

Lovely Lace? This relationship? What do they have in common? I almost picked that particular jewelrybox for a class farewell party and he was there, helping me out for the final decision. And that was about it.

I don�t want all of you to feel sorry for me, as I am not sorry for everything that had happened. Life goes on. Of course I mourned but it lasted only for a few weeks. I had to concentrate myself for the upcoming exams and yeap, I managed to get a good pointer. All because I was, and am still being a professional. The professionals don�t mix emotion with works. That is a hell of a quality I admire about myself.

Is that the main reason why I�m a lone ranger up till now? I�m not sure about it. But one thing that I�ve learnt is to include your brain, not just emotion. When emotion interferes too much, you will drift apart and when THAT time hits you; you can turn into a big time moron. All of us will reach the mourning period. It�s okay to grieve for a couple of months, or perhaps 6 months; but to drag it till it takes you forever? You ought to seek a psychiatrist advice.