Top 5 fears

I've been watching some videos about natural disasters, man-made disasters, shootings, all that stuff. This channel makes top 10 lists of such things, as well as lists of other scary things. I've always been a fan of this channel but everything I've been watching on it has been terrifying me. [gives me a thrill though]

So thinking back, I realised that despite being a nineteen-year-old who's gone through stupid shit, I sure have a lot of equally stupid fears.

1. Dolls
Everytime I'm dragged into Toys R Us, be it by my brother or friends, I'd always avoid the girls' toys section. Seeing dolls makes me nauseous, especially the big ones that resemble babies. On the other hand, the regular Barbie dolls creep me out; they make me feel like there's a real girl underneath the plastic skin somehow.

All in one, dolls scare the shit out of me, especially ever since my family got so obsessed with the Chucky movies. I'll always have the fear that they'd come to life, or take over mine. And the creepypastas I've been reading doesn't help. Hah.

2. Being alone
I don't mean this in the psychological or emotional or whatever way. I mean this physically. I always get the feeling I'm being watched, and that whatever it is watching me will never get me unless I'm left alone. In my whole life, I've always tried not to be in a room on my own, especially at night. I'd always get my mom or my little brother or my granny to accompany me wherever I am.

The times that I have to be alone, I'd always be on the edge of my seat, making sure I was ready if anything were to come from the shadows or window. I hate sleeping alone because I'd think of the worst whenever I awaken in the middle of the night. [and not to mention my dreams, but that's another story]

I guess you could call it paranoia, or vivid imagination. Either way, I'd always think that something would devour me if I'm left alone when the daylight is gone.

3. Tsunamis
The ocean is a scary place. I'd say I'm afraid of water but I'm not exactly fearful of the rain, I just don't particularly like it. If the ocean and its secrets aren't scary enough, having giant waves devour and destroy my homeland is ten times more terrifying.

When the tsunami in 2004 struck, I was so scared of going to the beach, even if it was just Pasir Ris Park. I was bawling when my mom brought me there; I was so convinced that a tsunami would come and destroy me.

That fear stays with me even til now. My dislike of water means I don't exactly know how to swim, which makes the possibility of a tsunami even scarier. It doesn't help that Singapore is tiny and surrounded by water. I can't imagine what would become of me if a giant wave were to hit.

4. Loud noises
As if heavy rain wasn't bad enough, the sound of thunder scares me just as bad. Thunderstorms in the middle of the night are frequent, and those put me at my worst. I also can't stand voices being raised. It intimidates me; either I'd curl up and shiver out of fear, or, if the voice was directed at me, raise my own voice back and that would in turn scare me more.

I stick to libraries, avoid karaoke, hate arcades, and I can't imagine why would anyone ever want to go clubbing. Anywhere with loud noise, count me out. The only times I'd accept having something blasting into my ears is when I have my earpiece plugged in.

5. Dogs
When I was young, the neighbour's dog pounced on me just as I got out of the lift at my house. I screamed my balls off but it stuck to me, I was so terrified, I was only a little girl. The dislike remains, and a little of the fear too, because every time I saw a dog from afar, I'd make a face in disgust. But if it even so little as jerk towards me, I'd run in the other direction.

So there you have it. My top 5 fears if I can say, things I've shied away from as far back as my little girl days. I have quite a few more actually, tiny things like bees and cockroaches, and the impulse for destroying things [this is another story] but I felt like they weren't that bad as the ones above.

Ramadan 2014 reflection

It's the last day of Ramadan for this year. Could've sworn the fasting month only started yesterday. Although I'd managed to have my first buka there, I'd barely spent any time at Paya Lebar this year. It's bittersweet, because even though I hadn't been there with my granny, at least I managed to be with my parents and brothers.

This year's fasting month has been interesting, even when the rest of the year wasn't so eventful. Laughter was shared, voices were raised, people were hugged, tears were shed. All in the time and space of one month.

After many years, I'm back with my parents. Part of me feels like I shouldn't be on my knees apologising to them tomorrow, because... I still feel like they're the ones who wronged me. They were the ones who kicked me out after all, who never made the effort to bring me back.

I know I shouldn't be thinking of them that way, after the whole fasting month that we've been through together. Fixing my bookshelf together, trips to Tampines and Geylang, and even an emotional roller-coaster just 10 minutes before buka time.

Only when I came back did I finally realise that my mom loved me after all. The past decade or so, I was so convinced that she hated me for not turning out as a perfect daughter.

I'm closer than ever with my little brother, and that makes me glad to be back. However, 2014 is just yet another addition to the collection of years that I failed to bring my elder brother back into close terms with me. And I know this is the last year I could ever try, because he's gonna be gone by his 23rd birthday.

The gust of wind that took my flame out at the beginning of this year, blew at my hair again during this Ramadan. It was an unexpected gash of cold, one that I could not take but still embraced with open arms. And I'm glad I did, because it made me realise many things which I wouldn't have had guts to admit.

This wind's presence helped me realise that I had to tell someone if I didn't like him. That I had to admit it if I still thought of someone else. After a long game of charades, I finally had the guts to say "I don't like you that way, and I can't be with you that way."

This year's Ramadan made me think twice about giving up my religion. For the whole year, I've toyed with the idea of being an atheist. Reading the texts from my Heroine members, listening to the takbir raya, realising it was God who helped make the things that happened happen; all these events have put me through more consideration into hugging my own religion again. I should be glad I was born a Muslim, and I think it's time I start to embrace it.

The flame, the flower and the block of ice

He, who is delicate like a flower, standing out amongst the blades of grass. He continues to sway gently even in heavy winds, while everyone around him was getting uprooted in the slightest breeze.

She, rampant flames, running crazy and eating everything up alive. Destroying a pure, innocent flower and proceeding to touch the one who was left next to it.

You, clear water, reflecting the monster in everyone who looks deep into you. Constantly going with the flow, changing shape to adapt to whatever situation, swiftly avoiding being stuck anywhere or in anyone.

This is the story of a flower, a flame, and a block of ice.

Once upon a time, there lived an angry flame who could not control her gift. She had the gift of fire, in which she could choose between being a flame that keeps people warm, or being an angry one that destroys everything in its path. She could not help it, but she chose to be the one that destroys.

The flame fell in love with a flower, a flower whom she'd spotted in a field of grass. For a moment, the beauty and innocence of this flower made her forget what she was. She wanted to embrace him more than anything, forgetting that her heat would only kill the fragile being.

It was only when a block of ice entered the flame's life did she realise how dangerous she was to the flower.

She knew she was danger to the ice too, though, but the ice didn't seem to mind. In fact, he seemed to enjoy being in her heat, even when she realised he was starting to melt, slowly but surely.

The flame left the flower alone, not wanting to destroy him, only admiring him from afar. She talked to the ice everyday, noticing how he was melting more each day, becoming less ice and more water.

She wanted to keep melting him, for fear should he ever catch a cold. She wanted him to become water, so he could flow through anything and be needed by everyone. For once, she felt what it was like to be a warm fire than an angry one.

Alas, she realised that the presence of the block of ice was doing more harm than good to her. The more water he was, the more their friendship threatened her. She knew that once he embraced her, she would die.

The flame did everything she could to chase the water away; even turning him back into a block of ice was fine. All she could care about was her own life; she wanted to keep being a strong flame. She felt like the block of ice was throwing her help back into her face. She melted him because she wanted what's best for him, but it turned out he was destroying her instead.

Being with the ice reminded her of her vicious side, of how she cared more for herself than anyone else. Looking at him in his water state reflected to her the ugly being she was inside.

Looking at the flower reassured her that she could be a warm flame, not an angry one, if she wanted to. That she could be the sun for the flower, giving him the life he needed, even when he wouldn't give her anything in return.

Goodbye moths

Mom says that if a moth lingers around your house, it's a sign that you are getting a visitor.

God knows when I started having a liking for moths and butterflies. I don't remember myself, but I know it's been a very long time... The butterflies drawn all over my diaries from then, and a moth-adorned tee I've been wearing since 2009 being some of the many proof of this obsession.

When people were tweeting about seeing moths everywhere, I got mad at how everyone reacted to them negatively, thinking they were bothersome and disgusting. It infuriated me; humans are way more disgusting than those little winged critters.

I was also saddened by the fact that I hadn't seen any for myself. A few weeks passed and I still hadn't caught sight of even one, despite how I looked hard everywhere, careful not to miss a chance of seeing any.

The first time I saw a moth was right outside my Pasir Ris house, just as I was leaving for Paya Lebar. I stared at it for a good 3 minutes, just admiring it and wondering of the things it'd seen and gone through before it got there. It looked so gorgeous up there on the wall, I felt like I spent so long looking for it that I totally underestimated its beauty.

It took me a while to see another moth; this one greeted me at the doorstep of my Pasir Ris home on the first day of Ramadan. I noticed one of its wings was bent at a weird angle [uhm yeah, when I said stare, I really do stare at moths, enough for me to notice that small detail] and it was having difficulty flying.

The last time I saw one of those moths was this morning. This one could not fly at all. Its wings were fluttering like crazy but it barely lifted off the ground. Instead it 'crawled' across the floor; it looked so pathetic and sad, but I knew I couldn't do anything for it.

The state of each moth I'd seen grew increasingly pathetic. The next time I'd see it would probably be never because moth season is going to be over.

By now, everyone else has stopped talking about moths. They're noticed for a while, only to disappear and be forgotten again. I'll always remember moths, even when their pretty counterparts, butterflies, are always around to admire. As dull as they look, they're just beautiful as their own.

3 deaths I've dealt with

I hated him. 

He was annoying, he kept picking on me and stealing all our toys, but I put up with him because he was my cousin. He was always looking for trouble if it hadn't come looking for him first. I remember how the last straw for my elder brother was how he broke his skateboard in half.

One day, he disappeared. I didn't know where he went, nobody told me; it was so quiet without him around, and it felt strange. When I finally had the guts to ask my aunt where was he, she told me: "He's gone upstairs."

I, as a six-year-old, didn't know what it meant, but I recall how I actually pictured him floating in the sky and up above the clouds. I'd thought it was a pleasant thing, and I felt happy for him.

Only now more than a decade later do I understand, fixing together the pieces: my aunt's reminiscing to my eighteen-year-old-self, to that sentence she had said to me when I was a kid.

____

I barely knew who she was.

A long car trip in Malaysia, with my only friend being this bird in a birdcage, a little mechanical one that would chirp whenever I flipped the switch hidden in its feathers.

My mom was bringing us visiting. We visited the same hospital a few times, this memory focusing on a girl about twelve or so, sitting up in the hospital bed. She was pale and weak, but I was too young to be told what she was sick from.

On the last visit, she took a liking to my bird in the birdcage. She would stare longingly at it, and my mom eventually prompted me to offer it to her as a gift. I was a small child, I didn't know what kindness was, and I was selfish. I kept quiet and kept a sulk on my face as a way of saying no.

We no longer visited her. She passed away some time later, me still not knowing of what illness exactly.

____

I didn't get to say goodbye.

All my life, my grandmother's taken care of me. She knows everything about me, whereas I've only seen her life through the stories she tells me everyday.

She's the youngest among her siblings. She's also the most active and healthiest, always smiling to the relatives. Weddings are a frequent form of family gathering because of these many relatives. We would always spend a few nights in Johore to attend these, and I did enjoy meeting all the people I seldom see.

I never exactly talked to them but I recognised their faces, always ready to take the hands of the elderly to kiss as greeting and goodbye.

During a wedding in September of 2012, I met these many relatives as usual. I'd kiss the hands of her sister and brother, both of whom I know weren't even aware of what my name is.

However when me and my mom were leaving, I hadn't managed to kiss my grandmother's brother's hand. I remember how I realised when I was already in the car and looking at him in the distance. I recall how I shamelessly told myself; "Nevermind, next time, I won't forget to kiss his hand goodbye."

About 2 weeks later we got news that he'd passed away.

____

There'd been too many moments in my life where death came when least expected, when the last few moments with them were filled with regret. I'd be grateful that I've never gone through the passing of someone very close to me, but the above 3 incidents have never left my mind.

I should have gotten to know my cousin better,
I should have given the sick girl my birdcage,
I should have gone out of the car and kiss my granduncle's hand goodbye.

"Life is pleasant. Death is peaceful. It's the transition that's troublesome."

3 passing thoughts

1. Motion is impossible. When an arrow is shot, it moves within time; time is made up of many tiny little moments, and in each moment, the arrow is still. Thus the impossibility of motion. You are like a bunch of photographs taken in each millisecond and put together to form a show.

2. A universe is created with each decision you never made. A whole infinity of universes exist, where the things that never happened to you in the past, happened. While the real you chose to have tea, another universe is created whereby you chose coffee. That universe splits into more separate universes, one in which you chose to put sugar in it, the other in which you did not. In other words, in another universe out there, there's another you living the life you never had because they chose better decisions than you did.

3. When reading a first-person novel or anything, you can't be absolutely sure that what you're reading is the truth to the story. What the protagonist retells to you isn't for sure the truth; she could have modified the truth for all you know, and that modification is the story you are reading and have gotten emotional over. Would you know? How true are all the books you've read so far?

Just a few thoughts I had. Don't hold any of them against me.

What if you woke up and realised

You weren't missing her as much as you used to;
The flame that was burning for her had turned blue.
She wasn't moving you the way she was before;
You just didn't love her anymore.

You woke up the next morning without her in your head;
No recollection of all the things she had said.
Forgotten the things she had done for you;
Forgotten the days she had planned for two.

A veil across your eyes to her good side;
Yet convinced it was all along that you'd been blind.
Two arms wrapped around yours, tears down your uniform;
No guilt in you, walked away from your own storm.

What if you woke up to remember why you loved her;
Would she again become part of your desire?
Would you walk with her again no matter how your legs tire;
Would you ignite again, that fire?

Would it be shrugged off as just another regret;
Would she be no more than just a girl you met?
Would it sadden you to realise what you've lost;
Or would it no longer dare be again in your thoughts?

____

Just a thought. Someone left me because 'I just don't love you anymore' [swear I can never forget this stupid sentence] , so I was just wondering how he'd feel if one day, he suddenly remembered why he loved me. Nothing more than a curious thought.

For my brother

This one may seem like random chunks of footage put together, but each image used for each line of the song has a meaning behind it. I like telling stories, and this is another way of doing it, just that my videography is kind of hard to understand sometimes, heh.

I'm just gonna explain briefly what's the meaning behind this short video I just made.

"When I turn jet-black, and you show off your light" and "I live to make you shine" poke hard at me about our differences. How he's so well-liked by everyone around him while I'm invisible to people. How my love for books and writing is what makes me shy away from reality, and that is why he's able to stand out compared to me.

"You can skyrocket away from me / and never come back if you find another galaxy. Far from here with more room to fly"
How he is never home, and always up and about, and how he's found love in someone else rather than me. How it's okay as long as he's happy.

I have reasons for using certain footage for a certain line, and they may seem silly which makes me not want to share them... But I don't like the idea of people seeing these shots as random either, so I'll just share 3.

• The page turning to chapter eighteen: "Ebbing and flowing and pushed by a breeze"; because it took me a while to accept that he is like that. I finally learn to let go of the memories, knowing he would never change back to the person I knew. That's when I can finally turn 18, and forget the childhood we'd shared. 
• The shots of Pasir Ris; our primary school. It's the last thing the both of us have had in common.
• The break, or the instrumental part, whatever it's called: my bed frame, because when he was younger, he used to sleep in my room with me; shoes belonging to him and his little sister and brother, because our footprints are the only thing of ours that make contact with each other. 

I find it hard to explain actually, haha. But there you go. A video for my brother which I don't think he'd ever understand, video or lyrics. But it's okay. I like it.

The brother I knew has been fading over the horizon since a long time ago, but I only know now that he's already gone.

5 things that make me Fire-Type

Disclaimer: I love Fire-Type Pokemon, but for the first generation, I adore Squirtle the most. I can't stand Charmander and its evolution line, especially Charizard. I detest Charizard, only because it's way too overrated. Fire-breathing dragon? You can get those anywhere. But where else could you find a giant turtle with canons and a dinosaur with plants on its back?

So. 5 reasons why, if I were a Pokemon, I'd most probably be a Fire-type. We shall touch on the surface first. 

1. I like heat. If you've read yesterday's post, you should be aware of that heh. I can't stand the cold, and call me crazy for this but I absolutely love being in the sun, no matter how hot it gets. And I like fire, always flicking a lighter in the past, though I haven't had one of those in ages. 

2. I can't stand water. As silly as it sounds, I hate anything that involves me being near the element. I get miserable at the slightest drizzle, I hate going swimming [I've always avoided it on the holidays my mom brought me on], and I don't stay too long in the shower either. I can never forget my 15th birthday, when the girls gave me a water birthday bash. Water destroys me. 

Okay, now for the 'deeper' reasons. Gosh, you're gonna think I'm silly. 

3. I associate anger with fire, and my anger is one of my biggest flaws. I get angry easily especially if I think someone is trying to pick a fight with me. I'll keep arguing until it subsides, because if you set something flimsy on fire, the flames will keep spreading and who knows when it'll stop. That's just how I am. 

4. Passion. Another factor that defines me. For me, I see fire in passion. You're determined to do something, flames will appear behind you on cue. Flames appear in your eyes. Or am I the only one who sees this? [I see this in anime though] 

5. Last but not least, simply said: I am fire. I am flames running around crazy, destroying everything in my path. I am in no control, burning anyone who touches me. 

With all that said, Blaziken is the best. Combusken is second best only because that chicken meat of its looks so damn tasty. And then there's Delphox because it's Fire/Psychic which is the best combination ever. 

Diary of the coldest girl

Monday, 30th June. 

The cold has been getting to me. I'm wearing a cardigan atop my black jeans, but I'm still freezing. Even my fingertips aren't spared; they poke out of my sleeves a little, and that is enough to send an army of shivers up my arms.

It started this morning when I was on my way to the bus stop. There I was, waiting for the traffic light to turn green, when I felt a sudden gash of cold. I shivered, wrapped my arms around me and prepared for the next cold hit, but nothing came.

The classrooms had seemed colder than usual, and even my usual spot at the library was unusually cold.

Here I sit on the MRT, on my way home to Pasir Ris. I still feel cold, and for some reason nobody else seems to be feeling it. I watch a girl opposite me take off her jacket, like she's just started to feel too warm. Meanwhile, I shiver from another sudden jolt of cold.

Tuesday, 1st July. 

I've dug out and washed the hoodies I'd worn from years before, and I decide to wear one of them. It's been a while since I wore one; this one's a little small but it'll do. I want to be prepared for any sudden cold today. It should be better than my thin cardigan.

The bus ride to school is cold enough with the strong air-conditioning and the fact that it's 6 in the morning, and there's no sun. I repeatedly pull my sleeves to cover my hands up to the fingertips but to no avail. Another harsh day in the cold lies ahead for me, it seems.

And I'm right. The first thing that greets me in the classroom is a strong hit of the air-conditioning. I manage to survive the first class, but the torment just continues in the one after. Even on other days, this particular classroom has always been cold. Now it just feels ten times worse. I can hardly concentrate, so I decide to sleep through.

I have a 3-hours break after this class, and I head on to my usual spot in the library since I'm not having lunch. [it's the fasting month.] It's the last desk in a row of three, among the many rows of desks. It's always been cozy enough for me, but these past two days... Not so much.

I try to ignore the cold, and it works for some time, but about half an hour before my next class starts, I start to shiver like mad. It goes up my arms and down my whole body, and I can't stop myself from jerking in reaction to the cold. Even the heat from my laptop's charger is not enough to help me regain composure.

It doesn't get better during the last lecture. Just a few seconds in the classroom, and I start to shiver again. My seat is near the source of the air-conditioning for this class, but it's never been this cold! And even with my thick hoodie...! I get up, out the door, and stare at myself in the toilet mirror.

I get back to see that every other kid in class had gotten themselves something to eat. A can of Pringles there, a wrap of the sandwich I like there, and I need not see what the rest are eating, because the mix of scents in the air already tells me. I'm starting to crumble and it's only the third day of the fasting month.

I fall asleep for the rest of the lecture, trying my damndest to ignore the cold that continued hitting me even with my arms wrapped around me and my backpack.

I take the MRT home again because I don't want to suffer in the cold during my usual long bus journey. It's the first time I'm dreading being on a bus. God. I just want to go home and curl up in a ball under my blankets.

Wednesday, 2nd July.

I've ditched my hoodies and decided to wear a warm knit sweater today instead.

It still feels weird that nobody else seems to be feeling this sudden harsh cold the way I do. I can't help but to take it personally, like the element of ice has taken a dislike for me, or the sun doesn't want to be my friend anymore.

The cold still attacks me on my way to school. The sun is out today, and I bare my arms to catch a glimmer of its warmth through the window; still, the cold wins.

I leave school at half past 3 and arrived at Paya Lebar station an hour later. I sit on a bench, sighing, and rest my chin on my hand. The lady beside me stands from her seat, though no bus is in sight. She's decided to stand toward the back of the bus stop instead.

Seconds pass and more people do the same. I start to wonder what's amiss, and I realise it's because the sun was at its peak, blazing hot, directing right at the benches on the bus stop. Directing right at me.

I stare at the sun for a while, before I look away and blink my eyes. By this time, I'm the only waiting passenger who is seating on a bench; everyone else has taken shade at the back of the bus stop. I grin and face back towards the sun, soaking in all of its heat. When was the last time the sun touched me like this? It feels so good.

I visit Paya Lebar for a while before heading off back to Pasir Ris, where I'm currently staying at.

And I discover the weapon against the cold; the warmth of a home. The ice that I felt on my body the past three days fades with each minute I sit beside my granny, with one of the cats on my lap.

____

The past 3 days, I've felt nothing but cold, the moment I stepped out of my Pasir Ris housing estate on Monday morning. Gosh, you have no idea how horrible it was... I swear, even my fingertips felt like icicles, even when I was outside an air-conditioned room/bus/MRT.

I didn't feel sick, I just felt cold, so unusually cold, all over and under my skin. It was probably the weather, but I love the fact that the sun decided to shine upon me only when I was in Paya Lebar. Doesn't that mean something.

Found love in a hopeless place

Love was found in a hopeless place.

The first time I saw him, he was looking so beautiful, standing in the middle of the road. He looked at me like he thought I was beautiful too. He looked like he was made to stand there, and I admired him for that because I loved the roads. 

We both felt like we were made for each other. We both felt most belonged on the roads more than anywhere else; we found love in each other through our belonging nowhere. He didn't talk much but he spoke to me through his eyes and smiles, and the way he brushed my hair away from my face. 

The second time we met, we climbed up onto a rooftop that was in plain sight of everyone, and looked at all the people passing by. We judged them, we wondered about their life stories, what could possibly make them laugh or cry at night.

When people started to turn and look at us instead, we decided to give them something to judge by kissing each other. The looks of disgust and disgrace given to us only made us burst out into belly-clutching laughter each time. 

The third time we met, love was made in the middle of the road. It was 3 in the morning, and my back was against the asphalt that I've only stepped on my whole life. The texture of the road left marks down my back and on his knees, but they didn't stay very long.

He didn't stay very long either. He died after our third and last meeting.

And I didn't stay very long myself. I didn't even have time to mourn for him, because I had to wake up and go back to the real world.

____

Had this dream like a month ago, and it still bothers me somehow. I woke up feeling a strong presence, like he was there in my room. Like it's God's way of informing me that my soul mate has died and I will truly be alone.