She calls me Vivi

Not many people call me that. Its a name reserved for those who has known me long enough to know the origin of the name, it's a name reserved for my closest friends.

And in a way, she is.

She knows my dreams, my hopes, my fears.

She knows my pet peeves, she knows how to get around me when I'm moody.

She knows my weaknesses and strengths.

She knows one of my darkest secrets. The secret I recoil from even thinking about.

She nags me to drink more water. She drags me to facial sessions with her at Leonard Drake. And at night, before we sleep, we would have a 45 minute home-facial daily, but the time passes in a blink of an eye, because we're constantly gossiping and exchanging juicy tidbits about the people we know.

We used to shop together. Whipping out our credit cards out like tomorrow never comes. And after spending money we don't earn, we'd eat at Yoshinoya, or Manhattan Fish Market. Or get our favourite spaghetti and yummy lattes at Dome. Or steaming hot mochas at Starbucks.

On weeks we feel like splurging on ourselves, we'd go all the way to KLCC for lovely soft shell crabs, udon and green tea ice cream at Ozeki.

Sometimes its days in at Anjung Skud. Sometimes its tapau bak kut teh for her from Section 17. Sometimes its lazy days eating instant noodles. And boy, did we have an assortment!

She helps me with my assignments. She's always the rajin one, gathering sources while I try to get some on my own, give up, and then get the rest from her. She's generous that way. She always finishes her assignments days before its due to be handed in. Me, I do mine hours before. And she puts up with me. She puts up with my moaning that I never have the time to do it. She puts up with nightlights on when she wants to sleep in total darkness.

She stood by me amidst accusations. She held me when I cried. She shared my joys. She also told me off when I did something wrong.

She was, a friend through and through.

And maybe thats why she calls me Vivi.


November 2004 - Chewy and Vivi, at Ozeki