I am not a label.

I am not a label, and I certainly do not need one sticking out on my back or like a barcode on my wrist. I am not about to adopt one either.

I am not one of your cliches, or at least I try not to be.

*

I wonder where all these jadedness is leading to. My cup isn't half full, half empty or all that philosophical nonsense. I supposed I do not even have a cup.

*


Sitting on the train of late, I closed my eyes and listened to whatever random tracks Lulamae Barnes was mix de morceaux-ing. So in my mental music video which I appeared in, I found myself running. Not running away from, or towards anywhere. I was just running. In it, I appeared not to have a face. But I knew it was me. I was running against an indefinitely picturesque background. Stunning grey clouds that loomed dangerously above the lush, sage field. I felt free, with the wind brushing past my cheeks. The wind felt cold, and I think they were piercing, like glass. Then I reached an empty street. The empty street slowly filled with people I've met and will meet in my life. Meanwhile, I tried looking for you. Whoever you are. I think I did. You had no face, like me. I tried to stop, turn back and take a second look. But my legs had a life of their own, not giving me a chance. I saw a glance though. I couldn't see a smile but I felt it.

So I am running on an empty road now that stretches forever. The sunlight made it hard for me to open my eyes completely. A sudden melancholy hit me and I could not stop crying. I didn't know why I was crying. I just did. I supposed sometimes you need no reasons to burst your own tear ducts. I looked down on my feet and realised I wasn't wearing any shoes. I was barefoot. And amazed. For the first time I was proud of myself, proud of myself that I've been running barefoot the entire journey and I felt no burning pain. My tears dried up and I smiled. Then the night fall and it was hard to see. There was a familiar smell of begonia. Slowly, I could not see where I was running. I was definitely still on the same road. No damn friggin' moonlight to lead the way. Suddenly I heard the familiar lullaby my mother used to sing to make us sleep. Orh orh koon, doo doo koon, jik meh tua ji zun. It was straining. But I started running towards that direction. It gets louder and suddenly I realised it wasn't nightfall. I was in a tunnel. Mother's booming voice echoed where the dim light closes in. I sprint. Like it was the last hundred metres of my 2.4km run. Suddenly the light blinded me.

"Ang Mo Kio, Ang Mo Kio."

I stood up and rushed out of the train.