Dear...

Dear Sydney,
I miss your sunshine rays, I miss your long days, I miss your North Shore, I miss mummy's cooking, I miss daddy's warmth, I miss jumping on my brother's bed, I miss taking up all the space of my double bed, I miss Lulu's purrs, I miss the Pan offsprings, I miss ordering my coffee with skim and soy options, I miss your friendly baristas, I miss your juicy $10 steaks, I miss your illuminated Opera House, I miss your trains, even though they don't come on time, just because I'm almost always garaunteed a seat, I miss not feeling like a sardine in a tin on public transport, I miss your simple and uncomplicate streets and numbering system, I miss the peace at night and only hearing the sound of dancing crickets, I miss not feeling like a giantess compared to the rest of the female population, I miss extremely good-looking boy, I miss having to poop whenever I want, I miss being nursed properly with comfort food and comforting words, I miss not being eyed pitifully for being single, and, and, and... old! I miss having more wardrobe options and the extensive range of underwear, I miss your humour and inside jokes, gosh, I even miss your unrefined accent.

Dear New York,
Is everybody in New York just gorgeous? Like is there a rule on the island where you're not allowed in unless you're a babe?

Dear beau garcon,
It's unbelievable how you can make me feel depressingly, old, ugly and fat. I think I'm too numb to feel pain at the moment. But I know, this feeling will wear off, and I will be able to say I'm honestly happy for you. In the meanwhile, I'll just be half way around the world from you.


Dear R.e.l
Don't risk tearing your beautiful eye out for me. If you do decide to, you'd still be the most beautiful cyclopse I know. You are totally right, woman. 2011 is a brand new year - I will work my butt off, and "become... AN AWESOME DESIGNER". I miss you too. Clearly.

Dear future husband,

I know you will restore my faith in the male species. Come quickly before I lose all respect for young men, and just become a scary feminist woman (though, I will still shave my armpits when it is ripe for harvest). I (more than) sometimes wonder and dream if our first meeting will be like the encounters of the two protagonists in The Notebook, P.S I Love You, or more like Pride and Prejudice. I doubt it'll be like The Lakehouse, but a girl can always dream.

Dear self,

I'm glad after soul searching in Seoul (rhymes!) you have grasped the very secret and wisdom to prosperity and success, that many reject or don't know. Later on the years, people will see, and will want to know this secret. Be there to share it as a living example for those who don't know, and want to know. Let them see what they are missing out.

Dear God,

I really, really, really, really want a Mac Book Pro, and lasik eye surgery. But you know my financial circumstances.