So he's gone.

And this is how it must feel like.

I did not cry when he turned around and left, strangely. Nobody else was crying either. I felt perfectly okay and stable when he walked through the departure gates, only with a slightly sourish feeling tugging and twisting on my heart strings, especially when his Dad commented that he had went in by the wrong gate.

I felt like I had kept my composure. You seem like a strong girl.

But then after that we bid our farewells to everybody.

And, they left one by one.

In groups.

His parents offered to send me home, but I declined... saying that my Dad was here to send me to my Uncle's house for CNY dinner.

So I went towards the entrance of Terminal 3, as far away from the departure gates as possible. I really could not bear to turn back.

That was perhaps the first time in my life I realised what a horrible, stagnant and cold place the airport could really be.

And I sat on a chair, you know, those new, plastic-like hard chairs that the newly refurbished T3 is installed with.

And then the warm tears started flowing freely.

Down my made-up face, onto my pretty white and pink ZARA dress.

Everybody was staring at the girl crying alone. Two soldiers walking into and out of the airport, on patrol duty. The lost and homeless guy sitting next to me. A mom with her child.

Argh. This really sucks. 4 Comments