Ctrl+Z. Ctrl+Me.

"Just living is not enough", said the butterfly, "one must have sunshine, freedom, and a little flower."
— Hans Christian Andersen.

the world is black, the hearts are cold.


A loss, a disappearance, an empty space.
A precious one that nothing can replace.
Wonder if you're there, thinking of me.
Here I am, wishing you could come with me.

Together we could achieve so much.
Little dreams, simple sweet songs and such.
Those happy smiles you had, I never forgot.
Till we meet again, forget me not.


Sounds like a love sick poem, but it isn't. It's intended for a young boy I met four months ago.
A little cheesy, but he really did mean so much to me in such a short time.

This is gonna sound really bad/weird. But here's the (love) story of me and him.

I entered the place for the third or fourth time in my life. He came in later in the day after school.

He was smiling, dimples and all. 
A normal girl would shriek and exclaim "so cute!" and try to pinch his adorable cheeks. 

Well, I didn't. I just looked at him, and I thought to myself, "he looks so happy. The kind of genuine happiness which most of us don't really portray." 

I did not get to interact with him until mid-week. With no chance to even speak to him, I saw him smiling again. It brought a smile to my face. The smile on his face enchanted me once again. 
He approached me, pointed to the small swings and held my hand.
No word was said, but I followed him to the swings and he asked me to push him.

"Push!" He screamed excitedly in the high pitch voice of a small boy. His enthusiasm was magical. I was very attracted to him at that point time. How could he always look so happy, and sound so happy?

Later, after talking to some other adults, I realised that he has global developmental delay. He is unable to speak in sentences, which explains the "push", the pointing and pulling of my hand. A six-year-old boy who is unable to pronounce his name properly.

From then on, I began to try and spend more time with him. Even though the target group for my programme did not include him, I would try to spend my Saturdays sitting next to him and try to talk to him. He would tap the empty spot next to him while watching TV and I would gladly sit beside him while he focuses on his TV show and try to tell me about the things he found exciting on TV.

Of course, he could not speak in sentences. He didn't even know my name.

One day, I asked him, "what's my name?" He said "no" which indicated that he did not know. I told him, "my name is Mel. Say 'Mel'." He repeated after me for a few times then got distracted by another kid playing with toys. It was a good start to me, I decided to try again the next day.

Every single day I would ask him the same question and from pronouncing my name as "el", it soon became "mel". Very soon, the moment he saw me he would wave at me with an adorable enthusiasm. He recognised me.  Sometimes he would wave and shout "HI!" and "MEL!", inviting me to sit with him and accompany him in his play time.

Three months later, after my programme with my target group was complete, I would spend almost every afternoon with him. I tried to teach him not to use violence to get his way (don't worry it's just minor pinching), pronouncing words, and countlessly trying to get him to practise writing his ABC. 

When he is at the computer, I would sit with him and we would watch the ABC song, twinkle twinkle little star and his favourite, Thomas the train. We would sing together, though he did most of the singing (and dancing).

The year passed quickly and soon he was now entering primary school. I would grab the chance to help him with his homework and do counting with him. He was a darn cheeky fellow, always trying to play hide and seek with me and get out of doing work. I loved him for always bringing a smile to my face, regardless of the times he ignored me because he wanted to play with the other boys. 

The adults there would play along called him my boyfriend. Sometimes when I arrive, they would tell me, "your boyfriend so naughty" because he is young and playful kid. I would speak to him and he would look at me, sorrowful innocent eyes making my heart melt.

Four months passed in a blink of an eye. I had to say goodbye. 

He wrote me two cards. One was heart-shaped, with signatures of the younger children around him, and had a "I miss you" at the top written by him. The other was one which he made specially for me and tried to made me cover my eyes and hide while he wrote it.

It was lovely. I thank the adults who helped him to spell the words, and I am so glad he managed to write the words all by himself.

The best part of the day was when everyone was already getting ready for bed upstairs, he ran down to say goodbye to me again. He gave me a hug, and said, "I miss you, see you again."

He was the boy who would always have that cheeky smile, with an air of naivety around him. He still cannot pronounce his name accurately. But yet, he could do all these little things and say these sweet words to me. I felt so emotional and was on the verge of tearing.

I left the place with the feeling like I lost a son I loved so much.

Well, I'm too young to be a mother and I definitely am not loving him in a pedophiliac manner, if that's what some of you have been inferring from the start of the post about our "love story". But I really want to see him again and spend some time with him.

Some of you may read this and not understand or feel the way I am feeling now, but I feel like an empty part missing in me. For those who understand my past, you will understand why I feel this way.

Thanks for reading this long post. A short story about this little boy that brought about so much emotions in me.



  1. Love this story, and how aptly you relate it to a classic Good Charlotte. I think the boy is a definition of love in its simplest and elementary form. Not about riches or famous. It must have been a bitter sweet experience for you

  2. Thank you for the comment. I really agree with what you say. :)


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