Q

DEAR XIN.

This was gonna be a thing anyway, but may i remind you of the shameless, not-so-subtle manner you demanded for one? Then again, it’s only when you’ve experienced each other at their basest; and when you’ve accepted every facet of their sheer inhibited teenagery vileness as they have yours, can you so readily allow these socially unacceptable behavior to surface without reservations.

And man have we seen each other through our awkward days. WILL YOU JUST LOOK AT US HERE in our dorky covent schoolgirl glory?

Even way back in Sec 1, you’re one of the people i spent most (and the best!) of my time with. All those days of carefree lounging after school lying on canteen benches when we should have been devising work, running around barefoot like hobo children. There was really no moment with you i didn’t feel at complete ease.

You’re a pint-sized paradox when it comes to being a friend, really: your snark is relentless and profound – most of the time i’m in awe of how anyone could execute verbal wit with such swiftness and bite, but at the same time you’re strangely accepting of your friends. That’s one of the many things i really appreciate about you: your readiness to embrace your friends’ quirks and faults, to forgive them for their misgivings, and most of all the trust you put in us.

I owe you much more than you’d think, really. I’d never get over the once you stood up for me against H’s strange lies (resulting in a bunch of you giving me the cold shoulder lawl). When we bring this up it’s usually in context of a joke, but in all seriousness: thank you so, so much. Without that little bit of trust you invested in me, i might not have y’all mugs all with me today.

You’re also an incredible inspiration to me creatively. Somehow we were always corralled into the same drama assessment group. From our very firsts (‘Toilet! One by one!’) to MRT Baby, to Silly Little Girl, the endless wrapping of boxes, all the way to Transience – i’ve come to recognize and love your idiosyncratic devising and directing. They’re an endless source of muse for my own work – as are your beautiful, beautiful poems (which are still stunning even if currently unwritten, because you can’t take talent away from the talented).

Over the years you’ve morphed into one of those Hot Asians as depicted in Mean Girls, the kind we’ve all secretly aspired to be (except you ACTUALLY ACHIEVED IT. Good job, Glenn Coco). Although we do mock you quite a bit for your grassroots sense of style, you know that deep down we love all your eccentric get-ups right? You’re only fully Xin with articles of clothing from three different family members or more.

Despite your apparent metamorphoses into a socially integrated literary UK goddess, though, we all know you’re truly a loser. And I mean that in the most affectionate way possible.

The kind of loser who trips over herself and smashed through contraptions and can’t spell bannanna and spills various food over everything she owns and never sleeps on her bed but rather on an amalgamation of clothes/accessories/books over her bed. There’s just too much of you that makes you so distinctly Xin, and so irreplaceable to all of us.

Even Daffy, who has knighted you as the only one capable of fulfilling her arm rest requirements. (You should hear her go on and on about it back here at home.)

Now that you’re in UK, we barely get to see each other. And being the lazy-ass shits we are we don’t keep in contact often enough. But please remember that I’d always have you in my heart, and I say this but never enough: I miss you. Not just your playhouse of lepak wonders, not even your baked goods (which i intensely and persistently LUST OVER OH GOD THEY ARE SO GOOD), but you. Your presence and your snark, your loser-ness and grandma clothes.

For your 21st birthday, know that you’re loved by many, and an inspiration to more. Keep being fabulous, Xin, and SEE YOU WHEN YOU’RE BACK I CANNOT WAIT.