Because I Love This, You Know?

By Lydia Lim

i love falling into my bed and tucking myself up to my chin, rolling onto my side and clutching a well-worn stuffed toy. i love the way i puff out my cheeks while mulling over a problem, my hands flailing off kilter as i peer into the sky. i love every awful caption i’ve ever written, every filtered photo of myself i took when i was in p3, and so what if i’m now seventeen? i’ll still buy myself stickers like i’m seven again, pockets spilling with glitter and other soft things. i’ll still fall onto my mother’s lap at the end of the day, letting her stroke my hair with the same tender hands. i’ll still rest against my father’s shoulder, only now i won’t be hoisted against his hip. Behind the fishbowl, I watch my own face, swallowed in the glow. These days, I search for faded stars in the early dew-dipped dawn to choke on the brightest one, but I’ll love it again. I’ll love it all over again. 

By Lydia Lim