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i'm part of a coincidental occurrence where five people accidentally travel at the same time at the same speed to the same place where they happen to do the same thing. and one of them happens to be paying enough for all of them. i think they call it a holiday. i'm going to that island they named Pangkor, which i think is a sucky name for an island because it just doesn't roll off your tongue and it sounds like a name i would assign a cooking utensil. so. a holiday. tomorrow. i mean, today. in a few hour's time the few humans i will travel with will rise. and i too shall rise and pretend i had a fantastic night dreaming about rainbows and unicorns. i am amazingly good at doing this. the only attraction that island holds for me is this - i was happy here. i was pure and innocent and in love with life. and in love with a whole lot of other things. sandcastles. buckets. the sea. the sky. clouds. the pony. beach balls. jet skis. crabs. seashells, kites. coconut leaves. i want to find the place where i was happy. i want to go back there. i want to return to where i remember being in absolute bliss. but i know what will happen if i do. i will stare at the miserable beach that looked so much like paradise when i was a kid. i will look at it and see a sad little patch of insignificant sand filled with utterly ugly calcium formations. i will look at what was the magnificent blue sea and see waves full of jellyfish and trash. i might even find the pipe whereby the hotel dumps the waste into the water. and i will smirk at the people in the sea. but there will be no humour in that smirk. it just means another part of my childhood has been corrupted. and i smirk in acceptance. i was seven then. i am seventeen now. there you go. ten years, and i come back. i come back to ruin your memory. there you go. this is how i ruin a holiday.
