Bernd's Home-coming Thoughts (2)

I met YTS way way back in late May. Back then, I was an army ready-to-be-turned-civillian guy spending my time idle at home as I was clearing whatever military leave I have left. I received an invitation to go for a "sit-in" lecture about new media at NUS as I was a prospective undergraduate about to enter the wonderful Arts faculty. Rather reluctantly, I agreed to go, well mainly because my buddy is going and I am 'supposed' to go with him as he 'supposedly' promised his other friend etc etc.

Two seniors greeted us at the MRT station on an early morning. (Actually, to be honest, there might be a couple more but i did not notice and they don't play a part in my account.) One was my buddy's friend and the other, YTS. Initially, Y did not catch my eye as I was in the advanced stage of 'womanphobia'. Strangely, I eventually found Y to be cutely attractive, if I could term it that way. Y also became my main reason for joining a new media orientation camp a few weeks later and unknowingly, she began to take centre-stage in my life. Y was the medicine for 'womanphobia'! There was a catch though... Medicine Y was 'not readily available off-the-shelves'. A pharmacist was fiercely guarding this concoction that I badly needed.

It was nothing new to me anymore. Nothing good could come out from these things, especially matters of the heart. Even though the particular 'pharmacist' was about to give up medicine Y at that time, I knew my chances of a full recovery was pretty slim, if not, none. Furthermore, there were obvious indications that Y may not be the correct medicine but I stubbornly refused that school of thought and relentlessly demanded for Y deep in my heart.

A few days later, I learnt that medicine Y had been 'discarded'. I had attempted to pick Y up but got cut by the broken glass pieces instead (with a simple "You are?"). I knew I had to undergo a slow and painful realization that I HAVE to give Y up. Now, to add insult to injury, I suffered deep cuts on my hands in addition to my second stage of 'womanphobia', medically termed 'ytsirsyllis'. Things are just going from bad to worse...