Taking a break from you

I

don't

understand

how

you

can

treat

me

like

this

It's

clear

how

less

you

love

me

than

you

think

On the nights I search for you

I

don't

think

we

are

meant

for

each

other

I 
think
my
soulmate
is
not
you
but
my
daughter

Found on a Gelare receipt

I

am

sorry

for

stealing

you

from

your

friends

I 

am

sorry

they

don't

even

say

hi

to

me

when

we

bump

into

them

I 

am

sorry

for

not

being

society's

standard

of

pretty

I

am

sorry

for

not

being

your

mother's

standard

of

perfection

for

you

I

am

sorry

I

find

myself

ugly

I

do

not

believe

your

words

what

you

see

in

me

Found on an Auntie Anne's wrapper

There

is

this

mechanism

in

me

that

will

always

feel

relieved

when

I

meet

the

little

flower

for

he

was

the

very

first

person

I'd

set

eyes

on

after

being

suffocated

by

a

ghost.

Found on a flower

Remember

when

your

little

flower

asked

you

"does

he

ever

use

force

on

you"

and

you

said

no

because

you

were

just

defending

the

person

you

call

your

other

half

I didn't realise I was in so much pain

I don't love my niece the same way I did when I first saw her.

She isn't as cute anymore. She can't compare to you.

I'd sacrifice my own parents just to be with you if I could.

I am working so hard for you but you're gone.

You're dead and I only have a black and white picture of you.

A screenshot from my first and last ultrasound scan of you.

I gave you up for people who couldn't care less about me...

I am the ugliest person on earth.

You were the only one who could have gone your whole life believing I was the most beautiful.

I threw you away.

For people who couldn't care less about me.

I have three photo frames of many different people looking down at me,

and none of them are even here for me.

It hurts in my chest, physically, and I wish it didn't.

My breathing gets harder each time.

And when I say something, my other half only laughs and mocks me for it.

I'd sacrifice him to be with you if I could, too.

Every song reminds me of you. Every night I hear you. Every dream, I see you.

I miss you so fucking much and I'd burn the world down just to be with you if I could.

And no one understands.

I am this close to putting myself into oblivion.

I don't do it because the only thing still pulling me together is my job.

"You're not alone", but really, I am.

Because who else could be there even if they wanted to?

Just fucking kill me already. 

Please stop visiting.

I do not want to blog anymore. Then again how many times have I done things I didn't want to?

Been feeling really moody today, and I wish it was as simple an explanation as PMS. Which my body still hasn't gotten used to again.

I've been getting irritated with little girls lately, and I got home today to see my bulletin board wrecked by my niece.

It was my first time in life placing my head in my hands from the stress. I thought they only did this in movies.

When she was born, I told myself I would be the best aunt ever. Now I'm terrified of being the aunt whom you never get to see at all, who avoids family gatherings because of her own emotional problems.

I heard of girls who cut their hair short as a symbol of their just breaking up with someone precious. I cut mine for a loss infinite times worse.

And then I traded this loss for ink, etched onto my tummy, the very spot where your head once was. I don't care that it is permanent, because so is your death.

You would have been a September girl, just like me.

I'd give up the world for you. I'm willing to see the world end, if it means I get to hold you for a minute or even less.

I miss you always, but I wish you would stop visiting. I love you, but I'm really tired.

Not blogging anymore

I see no need of keeping this page, so I am not gonna write in anymore.

Maybe I will come back in the future, maybe not. Either way, I'm not going to delete any posts or this blog itself because there're too many memories dear to me.

I loved doing this, I really did and perhaps I still do, but for now there is no purpose in me putting finger to keyboard. For now, it is either pen to paper or key to lock, feelings kept in a box.

I know one person I will be making sad, and I hold true my word of never forgetting anyone, good or bad memories shared with them.

Shall stop here. Don't love this world to ruins.

Having a daughter and losing her

No, I don't doubt that people don't read my blog anymore. Two years ago I was desperate to be well known as a blogger, always shoving my page into people's faces, trying to get them to read my stories. I know better now. Maybe I have guts to write this post right now only because I know my other half is the only one who reads it still.

I'd gone through a lot last year, all of which I will never forget, be it the events or the people. There was a period in my secondary school days when I remembered dates really well, whatever happened on the exact day itself. These days, I find myself losing track of time easily, sometimes forgetting even what year it is.

I can't tell whether time is going too slowly or quickly. Sometimes I go through certain things that make me feel tired and old; other times I realise hey... I'm only twenty...? I just can't decide whether I have more time before this very moment or after.

A month into 2013, I found the love of my life.

A month into 2014, I lost him, but we reconciled 6 months later, leading the both of us to believe we were meant to be.

A month into 2015, I still had the same person, but I was blessed with another love of my life.

I didn't even realise I had her--we had her--until March, and even then it wasn't me who noticed her existence. It was my sister-in-law, who told me I was having the same symptoms she'd had.

Yes I did realise I was late for 2 months, and a few days before we'd gone on a road trip to Kuala Lumpur, the whole time of which I'd been nauseous, vomiting out whatever I'd eaten. But I just didn't think twice of it.

Her existence was proved to me in the form of a faded red line. Surprisingly I wasn't panicked or anything, just too weirdly calm on the outside, probably like how you'd react when you get the final bill at a restaurant, one part internally screaming at how expensive it was, the other merely mumbling an Oh shit it's so expensive. Either way, you deal with it, smile to the cashier and pay anyway.

I made my decision on the spot. Reasons were simple; it was for the sake of my other half and my parents. I'd already disappointed them by engaging in the act that got me there in the first place, and I just didn't want to throw the fact straight onto their faces.

What's more, the announcement of my niece last year was unexpected enough, and I knew they didn't need another grandchild made out of wedlock. Not for them to take care of, not for them to think there was something wrong with the way they raised their children.

It was another one of those rare times where I was grateful for being skinny. Nothing showed through my belly, not even when I was 19 weeks through. Whatever physical changes my body was forcing me through, I had to deal with it myself because it's not like any of my best friends would've understood.

Out of the 6 girls, I only managed to confide in one of them; the one who's been in relationships before and who was definitely the only one who would understand the feeling of giving a boy your everything. Even she knew that the others would have secretly thought I deserved it if I talked to them.

My whole life, my mom has always brought me to the clinic. The day I fainted at work in late April, I brought myself to the polyclinic, and to tell the truth I was scared because it was my first time talking to a doctor myself. Maybe that's when I realised I was growing older.

Being in a polyclinic by myself was scary enough; imagine how much more terrified I was when I went for my ultrasound scan at the women's hospital.

The weeks leading to my appointment, a part of me thought that maybe I wasn't pregnant after all. That maybe I had some sort of cancer or whatever. My mind made up all kinds of shit, but when the lights turned off and the screen overhead the bed lit up, I knew I just had to face the fact.

It took me some time to process it, all I could do was just stare at the screen, the shot panning in harmony with the probe that the nurse was moving along my tummy.

I couldn't believe that something so amazing was growing inside me. That very moment, I stopped feeling scared, telling myself I was nothing but lucky. And I was, because for 19 weeks, I was able to be the most amazing thing in the world: a mother.

For a moment, I lost sense of reality when the nurse told me it was a girl. I was struck with happiness for about 5 seconds before remembering I wasn't able to keep it. Her. My daughter.

I had to go through three counselling sessions, the first being at the polyclinic and the others being on the day of my scan. They were all the same, trying to get me to change my mind about the termination. I hadn't cried in all of them, but it was only after the counselor talked about my mom in the last session did I shed a few tears.

She asked me, this I will always remember: Would you rather hurt your mother or hurt your baby?
I answered without hesitation, this I will also always remember: My mom is more important.
She nodded, and I cried.

I got admitted the Monday after, my other half's hand in mine. The day of my scan, the counselors and nurses told me that at 19 weeks, they couldn't use the vacuum method anymore. Instead, I had to be admitted, have pills inserted into me from below, to contract my womb, forcing the fetus to slide out of it and out of my body.

Just after I was warded, they had a counselor talk to me. Again, she tried to change my mind, as did the doctor just before she inserted the first pill. I'm going to insert the pill right now, but it's still not too late to change your mind. Are you sure you want to do this?

I had nodded, but by the time the doctor and nurses left my bedside, replaced with my other half and my one best friend I confided in, I was bawling endless tears. From the physical pain or the emotional, I couldn't tell.

They had to insert a pill every 5 hours for a maximum of 5 times, hoping it would drop out during one of those times. The insertion was really painful, I was asked awake every hour or so to check my blood pressure, I had needles probed into me here and there... It was horrible.

By Tuesday night, all five pills were in and yet, nothing was happening, so they had to bring in the 'more painful method'. This time, a stick-like object was put into me from below, apparently to hold my womb open instead, wide enough for the fetus to drop out. I was really weak by then, I didn't really pay attention much, to what they were saying or doing to me...

They weren't kidding when they said this was super painful. My belly was as hard as stone, and every ten minutes a sharp jolt of pain would hit at me from the inside. All I could do was grab at my other half's hands with my trembling ones, squeeze with whatever little strength I had left.

It just got worse after visiting hours, when he had to leave the ward. I couldn't sleep at all, I wasn't comfortable enough to even lie down, and even the painkilling injection the nurse gave me faded after a few hours. I just wanted to die, for God to take my life and just end my suffering.

Emotional pain can't compare to physical pain. You won't know the true feeling of wanting to die until your body is in great and terrible suffering, not your heart.

The pain was at the highest peak at 4 in the morning, and all I could do was desperately claw at the emergency call button. The nurse came over and drew the curtains over my bed, and I couldn't find any humanity left in me to talk, but she asked: Is it painful?, and seeing that I obviously was in pain, she actually exclaimed, Good!

It was just the same as giving birth, and I was in labour for one and a half hours. I probably woke the whole ward up with my screaming. Out of the pain or the fear or both, I don't know.

My girl was out at 5.30 in the morning; I felt her wet, bloody, undeveloped body against the skin of my ankles. By this time I had difficulty breathing, but lacking a few breaths can't compare to the fact that my daughter had taken her last at that moment.

And that's just another experience to add into the list of things I've survived. It doesn't make it 'my story', because all these things that happen to me don't make me on their own. They're all puzzle pieces that make the whole picture that is me.

When I walk in a crowd, I wonder what all these other people have gone through or are going through. For a moment I would tell myself I'm sure they have it worse than me, but then again, it doesn't matter, because I am not living their lives. I'm living mine, and my story is all that I care about. I have the rights to feel whatever pain or sadness no matter how good I have some things compared to others.

Some things make me feel older than I am, and this is another. I was pregnant, I chose to lose my child, and I didn't even have the balls to tell my own parents. It's still not over, because I'd only just started feeling the depression slowly coming in, and I have some physical problems, no doubt after-effects of the termination.

When my other half told his friend that has never liked me, that accused me of cheating and the child of not being his; when our most trusted friend spilled the secret to the classmates from their secondary school; when this post is being read by unknown eyes; I'm aware tongues will wag and I know some of the things that might have already been said... But I'm too tired to care anymore.

My over-enthusiasm with books

As you must know by now I work at Popular, my happiest place on Earth since childhood. I love books, but unfortunately, being in the Multimedia/CD-Rama department, I don't work alongside them much.

I do get to interact with books, namely the times when there's nothing to do and no customers to serve. It's not my department, but I can't stand looking at the messy shelves. At the same time I rearrange them, of course I'd thumb through some books, read a little here and there.

There are some days when only one out of the two English books department staff are working. Those days, when they're on their break and the cashier pages for English department staff, I'd go and see what's up.

Well I can say I do have potential to be in this department, heh. However it's not good for me, because sometimes I tend to get a little too excited.

When a customer asks for a book that I've heard of, I get excited.
When a customer asks for a book that I myself have been wanting to read, I get more excited.
When a customer asks for a book that I have already read, I get even more excited.

I tend to be over-enthusiastic. The other time someone asked my colleague for help, who in turn came to me, handing me a piece of paper with the book the customer wanted. It was The 5th Wave! I just read it in February, and I loved it, and of course I got excited when I saw it.

And not only that but I knew exactly where to find it. Because I knew the author is one thing, but I knew because I've spent about 80% of my free time walking through the shelves of the English books, and I've seen every book in every nook and cranny. *proud smile*

It was worse when the customer asked me about the book; "This is the first book right? There's a second book?" I straightway answered "YES! The second one is called The Infinite Sea, and there's also the third book coming out later this year," blah blah blah. I just can't help it.

Another time, this kid kept coming to me and asking about books, and I was more than excited to help him. I love it when kids read books, heh. When he got the 3 books he wanted, I asked him if there was anything else I could help him with.

"I think that's it, I have 3 books already," and the temptation to say "THREE BOOKS ISN'T ENOUGH, KID" was just too high. I loved that kid already, the way he clutched his books to his chest.

That same day, a father came to me with his son, asking about Captain Underpants. I exclaimed a very excited "Oh! Let me show you," to which the father said, "See, she immediately knew what was Captain Underpants!"

I couldn't have said it more excitedly: "Of course I know, it's my childhood!"

This over-enthusiasm can be a little embarrassing sometimes though. Just like yesterday, a customer came asking about The Kite Runner. I've read that, I loved it, the main character shares the same name as my other half... Of course I knew where to find it.

After passing it to her, she asked for another book. "A Thousand..." she started, but I straightway took out A Thousand Splendid Suns, by the same author as The Kite Runner, and shoved it in her face. But no, it wasn't the book she was about to say, and that was just embarrassing.

I really do love my job and gathering all these moments to share. My colleagues have called me crazy after I said I wanted to work here until the day I die, heh *sheepish grin*

Whitesands has destroyed my places of childhood, the Popular outlet and the library. But here I am working in a Popular as a teenager, and I would love to bring this legacy along into my adulthood as well. Who knows, I might be a manager in the future ^^

A mother is still a mother

Today I wondered, would Singaporeans give up their seats on the train if they see a heavily pregnant teenager? Or would they just judge her and punish her for her actions by letting her stand? Something silly to ponder about, as usual.

When I was young there were many kittens at the coffeeshop below, as well as the wet market when it wasn't a Shengsiong yet. I always caught one and brought it home, played with it for a day before sending it back at night.

This one day I saw some people gathering around a box, and I looked in to see a kitten which eyes and ears hadn't even opened yet. Me being an innocent kid who didn't know anything, I brought it home like I did with the other kittens.

I'm not sure why but I didn't bring it back that same night, and instead made it a bed out of a box and kept it overnight. It meowed the whole night, loudly and shrieking, and my mom told me to bring it back downstairs the next morning.

So what I remember happened is this: a cat had overturned all the beer cartons at the coffeeshop, frantically looking for the newborn I had brought home.

I recognised that particular cat as the garang one, as my little brother and I always called her, because not only was she sombong as heck but she was good at glaring and hissing at whoever came towards her. She was a million times more untouchable without her baby.

Something I read somewhere before; a cat can have different coloured kittens at once, because she can still get pregnant by other male cats when she already is. A litter of kittens have the same mother, but not always the same father.

Cats going through fires to save their offspring; lionesses fighting their partners, the very king of the jungle, to prevent them from eating their cubs; your own mother saying she's full even when she's not, to let you have the last bit of her food.

Tomorrow is my sister-in-law's first Mother's Day being a mom. Something happened along somewhere that made me envious of mother-daughters instead of couples, and I can't help thinking all the time what it'd be like to have a little girl I can call mine. I have found the perfect other half, I can't help thinking of having the perfect second me.

That's all I have to say about Mother's Day. It's not just about my own mother, but also my grandmother, and any woman who's had a life growing inside her womb.

A mother is a mother, whether it's a four-legged animal whose babies are from different fathers, or a young girl who mistakenly gave her body to someone she thought loved her.

Customers, love them or hate them

Good evening from Elias Road, your reporter for today is none other than E'indah Nadhirah, the girl with 6 cats and an addiction to bread.

Today is labour day, and seeing how I haven't been blogging for a really long time, [my fingers are feeling a bit more awkward and unnatural than usual typing on my laptop] I'm gonna write something related to today... I think.

From 2011 to now I've worked 5 part-time jobs, my current being Popular bookstore. Today also makes it a month since I started working there, so why not share my experiences thus far?

So first of all, I consider this a dream come true. Well, one of my many dreams to be exact. It isn't exactly Kinokuniya, which is honestly my most favourite big bookstore in Singapore, but I guess we all start somewhere.

I'm not even taking care of books in Popular though. My first 2 weeks or so, I was put in Stationery department. I treated the stationery like my children; put them up nicely when new stocks came, made sure they're put where they belonged if they strayed, dusted them whenever I could.

In actual fact I wanted to mess everything up because I can't stand neat things if you remember, but for this case I was almost developing OCD for stationery. I always got frustrated when I returned back to work after y l2 days off, because my children--stationery--were always in a mess.

If you go Popular you might hear the announcement bell and a voice saying: Paging for stationery staff, please proceed to cashier counter, thank you. or anything that goes like that. They do that to call certain staff when a customer queries at the counter about something in that respective department.

When I first started off at Stationery I didn't like to go because I was new and was afraid I wouldn't know what the customer would be looking for. That changed along the way, I started to get excited when they paged for stationery, and I always volunteered to go.

I love having something to do at work, even more so if there's so much to do that time flies by without me even realising it. I get really sleepy if there're no customers or new stocks to do.

Customers are really great sometimes, I mean when they're nice and especially when they say thank you. I automatically like you if you say thank you; it makes serving you worthwhile and sincerely a pleasure. I get a little broken inside when I can't help someone find something they need, mostly because we don't have it or they don't like what we have.

However I've found quite a few bits about customers that quite irritate me. First is when they not only ask rudely, but they also don't say thank you. But that's fine because I forget it in a while.

Second, when customers show me a specific pen and asks me "Do you sell this pen?" it's worse if they show me just a picture. We have hundreds of pens, you really can't expect me to know all of them. At most I can do is search for them physically, which they can do themselves.

Third, when I'm serving someone already and another customer pops out of nowhere and starts asking for help. I'm not mad that you asked me for help, it's just that I'm clearly helping another customer already, and all customers are equally important so you're putting me on a spot.

Fourth is something that is not only irritating, but sometimes hurtful, sometimes both. Back when I worked at the bakery customers were always mistaking me for a Chinese girl, Chinese people speaking really fast Mandarin to me and Malays speaking really awkwardly because they can't find the English word for something. They were always surprised to know I am Malay.

I've had a few similar racial problems here at Popular too, the most common one being Chinese people suddenly coming to me and rapping in their language about something they're looking for. Sometimes I don't have the heart to interrupt, so I try to catch a few words I understand. If not, I feel worse if I have to tell them they just wasted their breath because I didn't get a single word.

The thing that hurts most from Chinese customers is when they immediately just walk away when I say, "Sorry, but can you speak English?" I've gotten this a few times. They don't even say nevermind, it's okay, they just walk away and look for my other colleague. I understand that they can't speak English but they don't have to be so mean like that.

There was this one woman whom I was serving for the previous 5 minutes or so, answering her many questions about a product. In the midst of my explaining, my colleague from Text/Assessment department walked by and she immediately left me hanging and went over to him and asked him about that same product.

The same with suppliers; this one incident, the suppliers for the copier paper arrived and asked me in Mandarin, which I understood, whether "The boxes can put here?" I said in English, yes yes can put here. They asked again, clearly not understanding a single word of English, so I just repeated but with hand motions this time.

They just looked at me with their blank stares, looked almost irritated, and one of them opened the office door and asked my colleague in Mandarin, "The boxes can put here?" and then he looked at his colleague and said, yes yes can put here. I almost wanted to scream THAT WAS WHAT I FUCKING SAID TWICE!!!!

As for my own race, I find it really rude when Malays make comments about someone standing beside them, whether or not that said person understands what they're saying. If someone looks like Chinese, it does not mean they are Chinese, and even if they are, it does not mean they don't understand Malay. You don't just make comments about the way someone looks or dresses or smells when they're right in front of you.

This one time I was sitting right at the back of the store on the floor, checking stocks that just arrived, price tagging and all that stuff. These 2 Malay guys caught sight of me, and one of them commented right beside me in this rude sarcastic tone: "Kesian eh, mesti penat dia kerje." and they both laughed like it was the funniest thing ever.

By the time I looked up I only managed to glare at one of them, and he said, "Eh janganlah dia marah oi," still laughing, to which his friend yelled over the aisle, "Sorry!" in that really insincere joking tone. It may seem small to you but if you were in my shoes... ):

And then came that horrible day when they took me away from my children...
when they transferred me to Multimedia/CD-Rama department.

Even til now I'm still learning a lot about Multimedia, especially all about the products. There're only 2 people in this department, which are basically the HOD and me.

The thing that irritates me the most about this department... when customers ask me questions as if I use every single product there is. I know just as much as you do, which is what's stated on the box or cover of the item. Just because I'm selling it doesn't mean I've used it before or am using it myself; whether or not I am new to this department, you can't expect me to know anything beyond what's written on the packaging.

So far I've only had 3 customers that almost got to my nerves while in Multimedia, two of which just happened yesterday: the man who kept asking me about the range extenders knowing he wouldn't buy any, getting pissed when I said truthfully I wasn't sure the answers to his questions; the woman who wanted to exchange a bag that had a tiny tear, one minute saying she wanted this next minute saying she wanted that and was so sensitive and indecisive.

The last one being this woman who stood at the edge of one of the Multimedia aisles, asking my colleague something. Because she is from Chinese books department, my colleague came over to me and asked for help about what the customer was looking for.

She stood at that exact spot, at the edge of the aisle, the whole time, even when I came over to her. She asked if we had those remote controls used to change slides during presentations. Because I'd never seen them and it was just a few days being in Multi, I just said so confidently oh no... we don't sell that. without realising we do, and they were right next to me.

The woman saw them first, that moment when I saw the look on her face change. She looked at me with that are you fucking kidding me/are you fucking stupid face and pushed past me to look at the blasted remote controls, which I just realised were there.

I laughed and said "Oh yeah they're here I didn't realise..." tried to make a joke out of it and explain that I was new, and she just completely ignored me. She thought I was stupid for not realising they were right next to me, but who was the one who just blindly stood at the edge of the exact aisle which contained the things she was looking for? Shove those remote controls up your xoxo

This just turned into a rant about customers.
I think it's long enough to make up for the entire month I didn't blog, so there you go.

Why I will not read Harry Potter

I've been wanting to read the Harry Potter books for a while now. Everyone who's read it has loved it and I know hardcore HP fans everywhere, so I thought I'd give it a try myself.

I thought of buying the entire boxset of the 7 books but I wasn't willing to pay full price, and when I saw someone selling it for 50, I immediately asked about it but it was on reservation. The books aren't so easy to find at the library either because they're always on loan.

However after some thinking as well as some reading of other series due to the hype around it, I decided that I am not gonna read Harry Potter after all, and I'm not going to try either. I've come up with 3 valid reasons so if you're a fan and you're reading this, please don't get mad at me.

1. It's not exactly my favourite genre.
In fact it's probably my least favourite. According to Wiki, the Harry Potter novels fall under the category of fantasy literature. They contain a few aspects of other genres but they're mainly categorised as fantasy. Never been exactly my thing.

I've liked books since I was a kid, and the HP books have been around since forever, even before the time I first started reading. There must have been a reason why I didn't pick it up despite it being everywhere; why my mother bought me all kinds of books that I liked but never Harry Potter. We both just knew it wasn't my thing.

And to tell the truth, wizards and witches don't exactly appeal to me. I'd read about werewolves, sure, and even a little sprinkle of vampires is okay but witchcraft and wizardry... Nah. [I watched the first film and was dragged to the fourth with my cousin, both movies of which I just did not enjoy.]

2. They're best read growing up. 
I know a few Booktubers who read the books in their late teens and even early 20's. The most common complain they have is always "I should have read the books as a kid."

As someone who's turning 20 I don't think I should be reading middle grade books anymore. I read Percy Jackson last year, and while I enjoyed them a part of the experience was a bit spoilt due to the main characters being 12.

The main characters in HP grow older and wiser in the books, that I know, but I don't find myself relating to growing characters if I don't grow up with them. Is it just me? For now the youngest a character should be for me to enjoy the book would be at least 16.

3. I know a lot of what happens. 
With fans and fan accounts everywhere there are spoilers every corner of Twitter. I know who dies, what who secretly is, who betrays who, yadda blah. Personally I wouldn't read a series I've been spoilt for; there won't be any emotional impact because I'd be expecting and waiting for it to happen.

The HP fandom is a strong one, to the extent that it's spoilt me on too many accounts. I got spoilt for The Mortal Instruments series quite hard, and that's probably why I'm not enjoying it even though I loved The Infernal Devices.

So no, I am not gonna read a series where I know exactly what's gonna happen here, there, and in the end.

Nephew, one day old forever

Unknown number flashing across the screen;
"E'indah, where on earth have you been?"
Cat lying in the sun witness to that phone call;
I, tears streaming down like a waterfall.

Lifting her cats lovingly in the air;
Putting powder down my back after pushing aside my hair.
Crosses borders for her first grandchild at the instance;
My grandmother, witness to his pale face in a halo of radiance.

Her tin of food never going unfed to any cats;
Staying up late at her table, sewing booties and hats.
"It's going to be a boy!" once she excitedly says;
My aunt, the one to bury, last to kiss his cold face.

His motorcycle adventures once on the newspaper;
Years ago, telling his stories with bits of dry humour.
There in support of her, to rid of her tears and bile;
My cousin and his wife, the loss of their first child.

Pushing out of her womb, one month short of nine;
Not even a struggle to escape, not a single cry.
To walk, to grow, to play with my niece, never;
My nephew, one day old, forever.

Cousins

I don't remember the first time we talked,
the first time we laughed,
or even the first time we met.

We've just always been together.

I don't remember when we stopped being awkward or if we ever were,
when we started to look for each other immediately after we arrive,
when we became so comfortable with each other.

We've always been best friends.

You and the rest,
how I loved spending time with all of you,
being moody when it's time to go home,
imagining my action figures were all of you on the days we didn't meet.

The older ones would bring us to the void deck,
lit sparklers for us which we pretended were big fireworks.
The period when heelys were the trend,
all of us had our own pair and there we went,
zipping all over the place in our wheeled sneakers.

At least one of us would always have a deck of Uno cards,
and Stress was our favourite game,
how proud I'd been to be beating everyone at it.

I had so much stamina as a kid, running here and there,
trying to escape from the 'catcher'
or hiding from the seeker.

I was always talking non-stop, my mouth going on like a rocket,
all of us bouncing with chatter and laughter,
our gathered voices all around the house until the adults scolded us.

Sleepovers were of no exception.
I wasn't so independent as a kid and I didn't like to be far from my parents,
but I always wanted to stay over your house when invited.

Your neighbour from the 6th floor which you always gossiped about,
the pineapple playground which was your then crush's favourite spot,
making you stay awake to conjure up stories for me,
I remember them and more.

Being with all of you,
family gatherings like such,
were what gave me life back then.

But then,
like what everyone does eventually,

you all

grew

up.

Everyone was becoming more vain and self-conscious,
constant worrying about their hair, not wanting to wear baju kurungs anymore.
We'd go down not to play with sparklers anymore,
but to buy cup noodles, blast rap songs, smoke cigarettes.

I was slower than all of you.
I didn't care about being forced to wear baju kurungs,
while all of you showed up in jeans and shirts,
even you, my only girl cousin.

I became shy, not interacting much with adults or the younger kids,
much less all of you.
Everyone was singing the same songs,
talking about the same things,
remembering the same inside jokes,

except me.

I was probably the only one
who didn't know what all of you were talking about or singing.

I was gone for 2 years, vanished from all family gatherings,
and I come back as if I've survived a kidnapping and have had my tongue cut.

Now, on the few times I see you,
you would greet my parents and kiss their hands in respective greeting,
I would look at you, hoping you'd notice me,
because I want to smile at you and wave,
despite the fact we don't talk anymore.

You'd greet them, and walk away.
You don't even make eye contact with me anymore.

I'd sit on my own or with my own family,
while all of you are gathered together and still interacting with one another.
I'm glad you're all still talking, even though I'm not part of it,
and I wish not to be,

because cousins or not,
I think it's a fact that I don't fit in,
and that I have my own place to go.

Lukewarm milk tea

There was an announcement as I was walking through the engineering blocks of my school: the results for our final exams were to be released in 3 days.

I stopped in my tracks like everyone else did, to listen, and while they continued to walk after the announcement was over, I stayed in my place. To pray. I placed my hands together and prayed for the results of the exams I didn't put my everything into.

Afterwards, I went searching for milk tea. The ones at the sandwich shop and Co-op weren't cold and somehow I was just insanely desperate for an iced cold drink. My throat was parched and lukewarm wasn't gonna do it.

There was a Cheers between the poolside canteen and the pool, and no, they weren't cold there either. I just took one anyway, left the shop and walked around it, where there was this narrow pathway surrounded by tall walls.

My view changed from first to third person. I was looking at my own face, drinking my lukewarm drink, even though I could still feel the liquid going down my throat. It was starting to feel like fire, and I watched my own face, noting my facial expressions.

My face started to distort, going to and fro a horrible crying face and my normal face, within milliseconds of each other, like a glitch. It went on and on, and I vaguely heard a baby crying in the background.

Slowly the view panned out to show me on a screen, with freaking Pewdiepie at his little window in the corner. Another window appeared beside my face, right where my throat is, showing a long bone of some sort. It broke into vertical half, forming jagged edges that rubbed against each other.

Apparently Pewdiepie was controlling the movement of the bone in my throat. I'm not sure what it's called, the gullet?, if that's even a bone? [the trachea, just checked Google.] He was yelling in amusement like he always did, that mock evil tone whenever he tortures a character.

Well he was torturing me. I was staring at my own face, but I continued to feel the pain that this seemingly virtual character was going through. My faces kept changing, and it reminded me of a demon possession. He wouldn't stop controlling the pieces of my trachea grinding against each other, sharp edges stabbing the inside of my throat.

I watched myself on screen clawing at my throat, gasping for air, slowly falling to my knees. I watched all that while feeling the movement on my own body, it's indescribable but I see it all in my head right now. I don't think anyone is getting my descriptions right now but it was terrifying... And yeah, Pewds just kept laughing.

Of course, I woke up taking in a deep breath of air myself, and saw that it was nearly 6. I couldn't sleep back after that, and I just stayed awake, waiting for the sun to come up.

Why I'm crying after watching The Giver

I once said that the first rule of life was to read the books before the movies. Huh. I broke that rule a few times over the past few years, with Catching Fire [didn't even watch the first movie before it] and If I Stay and City of Bones.

Despite that I think it's a good idea to watch films before reading the books, so that instead of hating the movie adaptation after you loved the book, you'll enjoy the movie on its own, and then love it even more when you read the book. Makes sense? My logic anyway, and I came to realise it's true.

So anyway I just finished watching The Giver, and yep I never read the book. Was supposed to, back in sec 2 for literature but I never did. No regrets, because I already think the film is great.

I've always believed dystopian societies are scary, a society where everything is in control. Hunger Games, the thought of children being thrown in an arena to kill one another. Divergent, where you are allowed to only be selfless, or honest, or intelligent, and never more than one.

And also The Program, where you are not allowed to even mourn the death of a friend, because they'll think you're depressed and suicidal and put you through this thing called the 'program' to avoid having you commit suicide. Quite an underrated dystopian book.

The idea of a world without feelings, or pop culture, art, music, a world where the animals you see now are considered mythical creatures. When Jonas first saw colour I was already crying a few tears, because I don't ever want to live somewhere without the blues of the sky or the greens of the trees, or even just the reds of apples.

All the time, I see people who have been hurt say they don't want to feel anymore, They don't want their emotions because they don't want to be hurt, but really... Seeing the actors faking their lack of emotion is enough to make me tear up, imagine being without the ability to love or to cry.

Imagine not knowing what a kiss is, never receiving or giving one. Imagine not being able to cry when you've lost a loved one. Honestly, to me, the ability to cry is a blessing. Sadness is a blessing, and if you can feel it, you're really lucky.

Imagine not knowing what books and music are, imagine a world where nobody dances. I think it's really sad and you can't deny it. A world where everybody is the same, dresses the same, obeys the same rules and have their entire lives laid out in front of them.

I love that in reality, people dress differently and are able to express themselves. And not just their clothing, but they're able to write, or make music, or create art as their way of expression. I love that not everyone is smart, not everyone knows what they want to do in their future.

Believe me when I say I am one who does not stand for perfection, heh. I cannot stand neatly arranged stuff, and I guess that applies to a perfect society too.

I love the differences in the world, I love the different seasons and climates every country has, and I love the existence of art and music and literature, and I love the animals roaming on this planet, from the largest of elephants to the most domestic of cats.

I love the different skin colours, religious beliefs and practices everyone has, I love how not everybody is the same level of intelligent and how everyone excels in different areas in school or talent. I love how people are different and do different things.

Yes I can imagine a world without all these. And that's what makes me appreciate all of it, even the pain and disorder and death that it brings. It makes me appreciate being where I am and who I am, here in a small country where tsunamis can't reach, as this girl who is invisible to everyone but who sees every inch of the world like it's her back garden.

Watching The Giver has made me love the world even more than I already do, made me appreciate being alive more than ever, and I wish everyone could see things the way I do, even though they never will.

Thinking ahead

Wow I haven't been blogging much. Wow I haven't been doing anything else other than staring at my school books and thinking about my studies.

I don't see a point in studying for my final exams, because I already sort of know my fate. I already know I am going to fail all of them, and definitely am gonna be dismissed while I'm at it.

I have no problems with that, though after 3 of my very good friends withdrew from school, I'd told myself I will keep going until I graduate in their honour. Seeing how I've been doing, that seems quite the joke now.

I studied like hell for my programming final exam though, but deep inside I knew the actual paper would be a million times harder. That's what this shit school does, make you do all these revision papers, make you confident you can do it when you're able to get your answers correct, and then make the exam paper worlds apart from all that practice.

I got so angry when I saw the paper, and though I did try my best, it was as good as giving up. And with my next final paper being Engineering Maths, I know I can't do it. (this part was written on Monday. It's Wednesday now and yep, I screwed up yesterday's paper, though I never left any blanks...)

You can't sugarcoat life for me, and the truth sucks but I have to deal with it. I can't keep telling myself or accepting other people's words of "You can do it lah, you won't be dismissed lah, just try" because only I know what I've done.

I have thoughts of taking private O's, to retake my Humanities and Maths and then try to get into another course that I'd do better in. I can't take all this calculations anymore. Throw me into a course with reports due every week or something, I don't care. I'd do it more willingly than face all these numbers!

I know what I'd do if I get dismissed again, but I'm not sure how to let my mom know. She doesn't seem to want to believe it'll ever happen, and I also can't stand to think of what my aunt and grandmother would say. I hate adults and their logic, they'll think I want to STOP studying if I say that I just want to CHANGE direction. Ugh the pressure.

Well I guess I'd just try. What else can I do? Sometimes I wish I could go back to Year 1 anytime I want just so I could do all the same shit again and again until I pass, and then go on to the next semester and do the same.

Then again, as much as I wish I could go back, I'd rather just speed up everything right now and just get it all over and done with, fast forward the school stuff and let time go back to normal when I'm 23 or something.

I sound stupid ridiculous but whatever, I'm done with engineering, I'm done with school. Definitely not done with life though, still very much in love with taking buses and riding MRTs and bathing in the sun and laughing and crying, you name it.

Oh and also, you shouldn't stereotype or whatever it's called... Just because I'm in poly doesn't mean I'm smart, and just because I'm in poly doesn't mean I'm doing really well in school, blah blah blah. Now I know how it feels like to be pressured, but for all the different ways than other students. I HATE IT.

Just because

Just because you're skinny doesn't mean you eat too little.
Just because you're fat doesn't mean you eat too much.

Just because you're tall doesn't mean you should be a model.
Just because you're short doesn't mean you can't do a lot of things.

Just because you're a girl doesn't mean you wear make-up.
Just because you're a boy doesn't mean you can't be heartbroken.

Just because you're in ITE doesn't mean you're stupid.
Just because you're in poly doesn't mean you're smart.

Just because you're the only daughter doesn't mean you have to do all the chores in the house.
Just because you're the only son doesn't mean you have to be toughest in the family.

Just because you don't believe in God doesn't mean you don't respect other people.
Just because you grew up in a religious household doesn't mean you won't make mistakes.

Just because you're quiet doesn't mean you're sad.
Just because you're laughing at everything doesn't mean there's nothing bothering you.

____

I just made this video, because I've always thought this song was worth sharing, from the very first time I heard it about 5 years ago.

If you listen to its lyrics you'll deduct that it's all about sharing your stories. About how you shouldn't hold it in because you know it'll kill you. Just let it out if you feel something, be it happy or sad.

I used footage of things from my room, because your bedroom is where you usually keep your feelings in. It's where you have the most thoughts and tears, where the punching and cutting happen. Where all your stories are contained, really.

And also, to emphasise my point, there's a story behind every object in my room, and there are meanings as to why I placed a certain shot to a certain lyric line ^_^

A bit of social anxiety left

So the whole back row in my Thursday EG2 lecture are unrelated people. Most of us being repeats who have no one that we know in that classroom, we sit together but we have nothing to do with each other.

Today there was only one other kid and I, 2 out of the usual 5 people. One of them is my UR classmate that has never talked to me personally before, another being a classmate whom I've been in the same classes with since last sem. [Ok so maybe in a way we are related in life but still]

As usual once we were dismissed I was the first out of class while everyone was still taking their time to pack and chit-chat. I saw someone struggling to open the door, and since I was walking out I helped her, thinking she wanted to come in or something.

I didn't recognise the girl on the other side as one of my lecture classmates, so I thought she was looking for someone in my class. But she started talking to me. I didn't quite catch what she said, and she repeated: "Have you finished class?"

A little confused, I answered that yeah, I'm done, and she responded with this smile on her face: "Can you help us take a picture?" and I was like oh shit... Me?

Of course me. Because I just had to be the first out of the class ._.

So I walked into the opposite classroom with her, where her classmates were gathered at the front of. By this time I was freezing and really badly wanted to pee, and because I felt out of place I started to shiver. My knees and hands were shaking, and I had to put down my laptop just to be able to hold the girl's phone.

I guess I still had a bit of that social anxiety huh?

Once everyone was looking at me smiling I quietly said: "1... 2... 3..." and when I got to 2 my lips were already quivering, it just felt so scary suddenly, being in the middle of everyone's attention. I took another one, telling them to "Okay, this one with posing ah."

Their teacher threw more attention onto me by stating: "Hey, why don't you smile while taking our picture??" which kinda didn't make sense cause I'm not in the picture, why should I be smiling? But that comment just made me smile a little, which made my knees shake a lot more.

When I was done snapping the pictures I said Okay, done, and the teacher said again: "You need to smile more, you look so beautiful when you smile!" so I said thank you, and the girl from before said cheerfully too as I was leaving, "Thank you!" and a chorus of thanks from the others came as well.

And oh god... My knees and hands were shaking so bad, lips quivering like I was about to cry. I said welcome with a smile but I really hope they did not see me shaking. And I really hope the photos did not turn out blurry, no thanks to my shaking hands.

That was quite an experience in less than 3 minutes. Who would have thought I'd still have a bit of that anxiety from years ago? My god... It was so scary, I swear.

And then I walked to the atrium and had sudden diarrhea and now I feel like vomiting until I can shake no more x_x

READ ONLY IF U WANNA FEEL GUILTY

I should already be used to this by now. More than one year with you and you've already done this so many times so why do I bother getting hurt? Why the hell do I keep bringing myself to tears just thinking about it? Hmm I can actually think of plenty reasons.

***don't read if you don't wanna feel guilty blah blah blah. If you go ahead and read it don't come to me complaining 'you just had to make me feel more guilty' like you always do.

Maybe because we already made plans for today a week before.

Maybe because you kept saying "yay can finally see you on Monday" which made me believe we were both looking forward to it.

Maybe because I was already excited for it from Friday, and felt like the weekend was so tortuously slow, but I felt it'd be worth it once it was over.

Maybe because when it was finally Monday I was so happy because I could finally see you, after our short time together the last time we saw each other.

Oh maybe because that time was short due to your fault too, because you decided to spend it with someone else instead. Yeah sure I understand that it was your best friend, but you even spent the night at his place. You could have stayed with me a while longer instead of chasing me off considering you spent so long by his side.

Maybe because I was so mad at you the last time we met and I thought I could finally have a good day with you.

Maybe because I wore my freaking adorable new tshirt that I wanted to show off to you and also because I wanted you to try it so I'd know if you could wear this size because you wanted one for yourself too and I wanted to make the freaking order for you.

Maybe because I wore my hair in a stupid ponytail which I knew you'd like.

Maybe because the reason you gave was "I'm having a headache and feeling kinda sick", and that was enough for you not to bother, when just last week I fetched you from work two days in a row even with my freaking fever and migraine and sore throat, and when I was going back home afterwards I had a terrible nausea, because I have this thing where I always puke whenever I'm sick (since young) and the milkshake just made things worse.

Maybe because today was a perfect day, which even you said so since you were having an off day and I ended at 10, and you have tomorrow off as well so you'd still be able to rest, and you were so excited for it too and I thought it'd actually happen.

Maybe because I am doomed to have a terrible end-of-the-week coming because I'm gonna be working with an asshole, and so I was hoping I'd at least have 1 good day with you before things went to shit.

Maybe because I was already feeling stressed inside and I was trying to keep it to myself but you just had to make all the emotions spill over.

Maybe because you kept saying "you're so selfish, stop making me feel so guilty" even though I said it was okay when you announced you weren't coming after all.

Maybe because I didn't want to say all this to you just so you wouldn't feel guilty which just made it worse because it was all collecting inside of me instead.

Oh and maybe because you got mad at me for being down about it, and you even ended the conversation with a fucking "Fuck you".

Yeah I think I know why I'm mad at you. And now you know too, good for you. Tell me again how girls never tell their boyfriends what's the problem?

Thoughts harboured from If I Stay

You know, I love books but to be perfectly honest I'm embarrassed when reading a well-known and popular novel in public. Shit like The Fault In Our Stars or anything by John Green, I find myself not wanting to be caught dead reading those.

I'd wait until the hype around it is dead before I even pick up reading it, and same goes for If I Stay. I started reading it today though I'd watched the movie when it came out. And now I'm embarrassed to say I am one of those girls who loves this book and its film.

The book itself touched me especially thinking about my parents and little brother, the love of my life and my passions and dreams. I pictured mommy and dadda gone, dead on impact, bodies being zipped up in a black bag. I imagined 'Aamir in a bed, tubes plugged into him and his heartbeat beeping from a machine.

And then I imagined if it was me in Mia's place, caught between the choices of staying and leaving. I thought of my dreams of becoming a writer, unfulfilled as long as I don't wake up. I thought of a world without my parents and little brother, how I'd have no will to live without them.

I remember when I so badly wanted an oblivion last year. How I wanted so badly to die more than anything, not caring about whether I was even ready to meet my maker. That changed when I realised the beauty of life, all its happiness and heartbreak, all its laughter and pain.

I picture myself gone, and I can't stand the thought of those few people who would visit my page in hopes that I'd written a new post, the friends I've stopped talking with who might wish they could talk to me again.

The thought of my books sitting on my shelves, collecting dust as no one reads them, the cats at the carpark waiting for the strange girl who would talk to them, the lecturers calling out my name for attendance and asking my equally clueless classmates about my whereabouts.

The thought of my grandmother and aunt in the hospital room crying over the potential loss of their granddaughter/niece. The thought of 'Aamir holding my hand, praying for me to wake up, my best friends from secondary school sitting at my bedside talking to me.

I have tears in my eyes just thinking of these images. The thought of leaving everything behind itself is painful, even though I'm already sick and tired of some things, like school and work.

Maybe this isn't just a constant reminder for myself, but everyone should know that life is worth it. Continuing to live your life shouldn't even be a choice, it's definite you have to keep going as long as you're able to.

I don't have the balls to say this to you straight, but pain and happiness are part of each other and you can't live with only one of them. You may be in deep sadness tonight but I'm sure within this week you've had moments where you laughed like there was no such thing as heartbreak.

The next time you shed blood, remember that it's a sign of life. That blood that slides down your arm is a sign that you're alive, and as long as you breathe, continuing your life as it is will always be worth it. You need to keep feeding your hope instead of giving so much attention to your pain.

Don't throw your life away, because even if the boy you like doesn't care, even if you think your parents don't, even if none of your friends ever asks if you're okay, you will always have family, and it doesn't have to be people because what you want to do in life is also enough reason to keep fighting.

I sound like I'm babbling but everything I've written has been harboured from my heart. I have tears in my eyes now and I'm trying hard not to let any drip. I'm writing this for myself, for a certain girl that I know is in pain, and for anyone else who feels like there's no more hope.

Hungover from 2014

It's been nearly 3 weeks, but I'm still hungover. I still feel as drugged as Lewis Carroll when he wrote Alice in Wonderland. I'm still overwhelmed with all of 2014, and even though I haven't properly settled in this new setting, I'm still sad to let the year go.

I never really went through the stuff I did, only wrote notes to the people I met/interacted with. [read it here and find your name if you haven't already, or you can read the whole post because it kinda makes a story.]

So today I thought I would write the adventures I had...

January.

'Aamir left;
I met Danny;
Shan and I drank at Holland Village and had good long talks;
I got my septum piercing [which hurt very much];
I studied with Azim at SP frequently;
I had my last interactions ever with Mel and Naqib;
I went home to Pasir Ris;
I saw my paternal relatives after 2 years, greeted non-stop about how they haven't seen me forever;
I started wandering, and wondering, to find and realise where home was.

February.

I started interacting with people from school, namely the people from my Daeln Lab;
I found friendship in Yazid, and we talked by the beach about misadventures;
I joined the Whatsapp group society, my first one being Estfut;
Heroine soon after, when Naz tweeted if anyone wanted in;
Heroine had its first group meeting at a rooftop beside Kallang station;
I started seeing how pretty Singapore is, and fell in love with her backbone [the MRT lines] and her curves [the expressways].

March.

I discovered the Booktube community and started collecting books again;
I got infatuated with another writer even though it didn't last long;
I went on a foodhunt with 4 other Heroines and took so many pictures together;
I wanted to make videos about my love for roads;
Yazid brought me around his hometown Sengkang;
some of the Heroines and I got crazy drunk and we broke the entire group;
my dreams started to get worse, and I waited every night til the sun rose before I dared sleep.

April.

Hazim and I explored Woodlands, taking random shots of each other and the scenery;

I was introduced to Ariff, and it was us and Hazim against everyone else;

I started year 2, even though I was still stuck with year 1 modules;
I caught Asleah's performance at NYP's Club Crawl with Farizah and our other secondary school friends;
I saw Luqman after months and found myself noticing and thinking of him more;
I made friends with Elin, and she taught me the power of forgiveness.

May.

I became good friends with someone who was the opposite of me but was the best support;
I was lucky to experience the feeling of having a crush and even had the chances to watch a movie with him and even sent him home;
NYP became my second home, even more so than my own school;
I hung out with Farizah a lot, and we talked about so many things those few days;
I had an admirer who felt for me what I felt for another, whom I constantly treated like how I was treated;
I realised I couldn't be with the person I liked because he was too fragile for me;

I cried over a book that reminded me of how I would never experience a first love again.

June.

I had our 6th Annual Reunion with Sabrina, Siying and Shushan;
Ramadan's first day was on June's last, which I'd spent with my granny at Paya Lebar.
[funny that I can't seem to remember much from this month, and it doesn't help that there're no photos or blog posts from the 9th to 25th]

July.

I experienced an unusually cold day, and deducted I was Fire-Type;
we discovered and cried over the existence of an unplanned family member, though never in front of each other;
I hid in the toilet when my big brother threw an extension socket at dad, causing a screamfest in the house, minutes before buka;
I watched him leave the house and wanted just to die as tears fell down my parents' and little brother's faces, the Azan playing in the background;
I finally had courage to be frank with the river about our incompatibility;
'Aamir came back telling me he missed me and asked if we could start over;
I said yes and we hugged when we met, but the next day he left again because he wasn't ready;
I celebrated Hari Raya with my parents and brothers again after 2 years.

August.

I spent an evening with Sabrina, Siying and Shushan, eating free food samples at Expo;

I met Acap, Izni, Arie, Yat for the first time, hung out with them as well as Naz and Effa at ITE West, with Syaf coming later holding a cake for Yat's birthday;

I sat on the stairs of Woodlands bus interchange and cried so many tears because I missed 'Aamir so much;

I witnessed my big brother's solemnization ceremony and put the gold bracelet on my new sister-in-law's wrist;

After a few days of texting as friends, 'Aamir told me not to wait for him anymore because he was letting me go; 

I went Jalan Raya with Heroine, where I had loads of laughs and bonded with them, and we ended off the night with birthday songs for Zye;

I walked from Esplanade to Bayfront in the dead of the night with Arie, Aqilah and Aliff;
'Aamir asked me again at Woodlands interchange, if I would be his girlfriend;

I had to reject two hearts because I chose to be with the wind, who 4 days later left me for the third time in the year;

I found comfort in one of the two broken hearts, immersed myself in sins I called solace, in lust I called love.

September.

I wasn't able to sit for my Daeln exam, and I had a little drink at the airport, managing to drop 

the glass bottle and shatter its pieces everywhere; 

I went on a date with a Ghost, believing it was love, and even more so because it was a forbidden one;

my mom had a fall at the hospital and I spent the entire day at CGH;
my brothers and I went bowling, and I met my sister-in-law's little siblings for the first time;

I went on a solitary trip to Kinokuniya the day I turned 19, and was surprised to have received birthday wishes from the Heroines;

I went to school during the holidays to appeal against my dismissal and realised the many things about Ngee Ann that I wasn't ready to leave;

I bumped into the love of my life, and realised how much I still yearned to be with him even though someone else's arm was around me at that moment.

October.

I celebrated Hari Raya Haji with my parents and brothers, as well as a sister-in-law;
Acap and Arie were the best friends I had, always making me laugh til my belly ached;
we went to Asyiq's house to celebrate his birthday, with icing all over our faces;
I went to Halloween Horror Nights with Acap, Arie, Athirah, and Zye, stayed out late til 3 in the morning;
Elin called Acap, Arie, Zye and I to give Hanafi a birthday bash, which we all did with water and flour;
I realised how much I loved these people whom I called my best friends, my family;         

I learnt that sad love songs are meant not for lovers but friends most of the time.

November.

I realised Ghost's feelings weren't love at all;
I went to USS for Acap's birthday with Arie, Elin and Hanafi, only to realise later that it would be the last time I'd hung out with any of them;
I started working at Ben and Jerry's at Dempsey, thanks to Elin, and met new and funny people;
I went to Ion Sky with 'Aamir, walked around town and realised how easy it was to fall back with him;
Shihui told me she was withdrawing from school, and my heart broke at the thought of no longer seeing her in school;
my niece was born, and I thought she was the most wonderful thing in the world;
my grandfather had a fall and was rushed to hospital, and I spent the entire week visiting him everyday;
I realised how precious life is, and fell in love with being alive.  

December.

I met various types of cats and many interesting people while visiting my cat at the vet;
I played around with Movie Maker and found myself making a 2014 montage to Taylor Swift's Wonderland;
Shushan, Siying, Pearl, Sabrina and I met up and we bought cakes for Sabrina because it was her birthday the next day;
'Aamir and I watched Mockingjay Part 1, afterwards sitting down at Scape to have a long talk mixed with laughter and seriousness;
he declared at the end of it: "You know what, let's just fuck everyone else and be together." and so we did;
I spent New Year's Eve recalling everything about 2014, writing about everyone I'd met in the year, fingers flying across the keyboard and tears streaming down my face...

January, 2015. 

...just like now.

Thank you again to everyone who's made my year. I don't think most of them are reading this, but it's okay. I'm still so ever grateful for every single one of them, even if they're angry at me now or if they hate me or if they don't care about me loving them. I love them and I am thankful I've met them, even if our friendship only lasted a while.

If it wasn't for 'Aamir leaving me at the beginning of the year, I wouldn't have met all these wonderful yet strange bunch of people. They'll forever be in my memory, even though I'm back home with the love of my life now.

I'm so emotional I need to stop hahaha but really though, thank you everyone.

Demons

They come when my eyelashes point to my cheek
Give the illusion that I'll find what I seek
They make me run for a door that just goes further
Only to kill me awake screaming bloody murder

They're at the back of my eyelids everytime I sleep.

It forms slowly and stares quietly in my isolation
Never in plain sight it prefers hiding in reflection
Breathing down my neck, attempting to crush it next
Devouring the time I take to die from its effects

It stares at me from the mirror everytime I'm alone.

He is loved by people who have never met
Existence alone controls their actions and mindset
Voice unheard touch unfelt, they follow His every word
Just one Him to make this growing herd

His words are causing everyone to psycho me into this belief.

She has her hands drilled into the deepest of my brain
Sent her thousands young swimming through my veins
A knife down the wrist and tearing apart of skin
Won't rid me of her whispers that led my sin

They can drown you in your sleep

Choke you in your own house

Burn you in the afterlife

And most of all 

Control you 

Use your body as their own

tell you all these awful things 

until one day your sanity is gone

and you slowly 

gauge out your own eyeballs

claw out your own veins 

rip out your own heart. 

...You should be friends with them. 

Then they won't do anything awful to you. 

x

____

This poem was written for entertainment, please don't call me crazy. Just trying out different genres of writing. 

For Hafizah

I'd heard the teachers saying her name since last year's April semester. I saw her once in Daeln lab, right at the other end of the classroom but I never took notice of her much and it was the first and last time I saw her anyway.

When the October semester started, I was told that she was in my group for IB. I knew her name, but not her face, so when our teacher asked if I knew her, I just said I didn't. He told me that she knew me, so in a way, we did notice each other but never bothered to interact.

I saw her again in Digital Logic, when she walked in and straight to the back of the classroom. I was seated at the front, so I noticed her but of course, I never talked to her. She had a frown on her face and I thought she'd be the arrogant kind.

But when we first met with our other IB group member, she wasn't arrogant at all. She talked more than me, and she wasn't shy like I was, never held back whatever she wanted to say. When she stood up to leave, she smiled at me and said: "See you in Digital Logic."

This one day I was seated alone at the back of Daeln class as always, when I heard someone dragging back the chair next to me and sitting down. I looked up to see her, and she said hey. As much as I was surprised to see her choosing the seat next to mine of all places, I was happy to have someone next to me.

In the midst of all our confusion and frustration with our circuit shit, we talked a lot about ourselves. I learnt that she was one year older than me, and that she was taking the same modules as me. Again, I'd found a friend who was in the same boat as I was.

I was supposed to have tutorial after that, but I decided to skip it to get a replacement bank book. I was starting work at 6 that evening, and I needed to give them my bank account number.

I talked to her about my new job, and while we were walking out and down the hallway, I told her I was skipping my next class to head to Clementi's POSB outlet. She listened, and then she said something that made me pause: "Want me to drive you?"

I must have looked really confused, because as I looked at her she laughed and said, "Drive? I drive a car. I can drop you there."

Of course I got excited, because I'd never had a friend drive me somewhere before. I told her about how I felt like she just dropped a bomb on me, because it felt so cool and overwhelming and so sudden. Even as I was seated in the passenger seat secured with the seat belt, I was still trying to process it. It felt so cool being in that car!

I realised that she was the kind who knows how to break silence. Either that, or she just likes to ask many questions/say many things. She'd either ask me questions about myself or go on into her own rant/story-telling. It's always been fun talking to her.

She'd ask you questions which people won't usually bother about. Just like that time with our other IB groupmate, while waiting for our teacher in that uncomfortably quiet room, she just suddenly asked him: "So did you cycle during your holiday?" I wanted to laugh so bad, it was so like her to ask you questions you won't expect.

After our common tests, I got to know that she likes reading books too. It was nice knowing I could go on and on talking about books knowing she wouldn't get bored. In fact, you could talk to her about anything and she'd always have something to say or able to relate in some way.

The more we hung out the more I got to know she was another one of those friends whom you could look at and laugh because whatever they do or say is just too funny. We laughed the most in Daeln lab, the looks she'd give me when our teachers said something that just confused us more.

She was slowly becoming my best friend. She knew how I was like and accepted my weirdness and always put through with me whenever I burst out laughing in the middle of her stories. We made plans to graduate together, even though we probably felt it was nearly impossible.

If I had known last Friday was gonna be the last time I'd see her, I would have followed her to her locker instead of rushing to meet my friend.

I never saw her for the whole of this week, and I thought nothing of it, maybe she was just sick. But she's gone now, another best friend withdrawn from school. It's a huge blow, and I cried til I couldn't breathe, our time together was so short.

But it's okay. I wish her the best, and I hope I can keep going until I graduate, for her and for my other best friend who withdrew last term.

3 AM

I just woke up from a dream.

There were floods everywhere.

I saw on the news that there were so many bodies, they had to separate them into two piles.

One mountain for the bodies who drowned, one mountain of bodies who were burnt.

One body of a little boy washed up into my house, and my aunt and uncle and granny sent it off to the authorities.

They told us the body had been floating around and about all the way from Europe.

Spirits wouldn't leave us alone after that.

My aunt and uncle and granny told me to sleep separately from them.

I was sent off with my parents and brothers to "appease the spirits" and we were forced to walk through a secluded kampung that was surrounded by forest.

They told us not to speak, because our voices would intimidate 'them'.

My big brother was blind when he got married, and while walking through the forest, he asked me to tell him all about his wedding ceremony.

'They' got angry.

I woke up. And the time said 3:08. I used to be scared of the 3 AM hour because I was very sure this is when all the bad things happen, including dreams.

Now I can't help but wonder maybe I'm thrown awake because my dreamself is getting punished for the noise and they don't want me to be a witness.

Maybe bad things happen to you whether or not you're awake.

Bad things will always happen at 3 AM, just that you don't know if tonight it will be in the dreamworld or in the real world.

I feel like the queen of demons has laid eggs in my brain.

I don't feel sad at night from over thinking. Instead I go through all this shit with dreams.

I'm numb from it. I don't cry or shiver from the fear. I don't feel fear whenever I wake up from a vivid dream.

I'd like to believe I'm numb. But I believe more in the fact that my inner self is screaming in fear that 'things' are tearing her apart.  Tearing  me apart from the inside.

MAKE IT STOP PLEASE

What a goddy weak government

In every dystopian series I've read, there is always the government, the people who are forcibly put through its bullshit, and that one person trying to rebel.

I see him as the government, always putting himself in control and demanding all sorts of favours from the people.

I see them as the civilians, allowing themselves to be told what to do and doing whatever to please him, even if it tires them out.

I wish I could be the rebel who doesn't put up with the shithead government and save the people from it. But everytime I stand up against him, they tell me to stop and just please him, so he wouldn't kill us all.

The only thing he has a heart for is his own family. And by family, I don't mean the people who's raised him since he was born; no, he couldn't care less for his parents, even though they loved him so much all his life, even through all the disappointment and pain he's caused.

Only the rebel is able to see the corruption that the government is. Even from the distance shared for years, it's very obvious how he doesn't give a shit about his parents and siblings; he cares only for his wife and daughter, and the way other people would see him.

He puts up an act in front of other countries, so he'd be seen from the outside as a good guy. When in actual fact, he doesn't take care of his own people at all. He insists on giving his father-in-law money every month, when his own father who needs it more has never received a single cent from him even til now.

He announces to the world he loves his parents but on the inside, he's never done anything to help them. If anything, he sits on their shoulders while they cook for him and clean after him and provide for him, even though he should already be doing everything on his own. A man who doesn't know how to take care of himself and who depends heavily on his people cannot try to rule another country.

Anyone can see that he is only here because he needs the support of his parents. He doesn't love them at all, but he needs their money and help because he does not know how to raise a young one on his own at all. If he was just a bit more independent, they would never hear from him again.

Everytime I stand up against him, they tell me to stop. Everytime I try to make them stop doing everything for him, they say it's okay, and continue giving all their energy and help and money to him. Even with his own 2-months-old baby, he is still a heavily dependent kid stuck in the body of a 24-year-old.

He's spent a lot of money on his wife and daughter, always so initiative with them and wanting what's best for them. He never does anything for his own parents and siblings, even when my dad asks him to pay for some of the groceries or bills. He wants a PS4 and he tells his 14-year-old brother who is still schooling to pay for it.

When I look at him I can only wonder, why do good things happen to bad people? He doesn't appreciate anyone at all and yet here are all these people who're so nice to him. I wish mom would stop handing him food on a silver platter, I wish dad would stop giving him money like it grew on trees. I wish they'd stop pulling me back everytime I try to go against him.

They're scared of his anger, and I wish they weren't. They tell me he's been improving, that he's been nice to me, but one look at him and I already know how much he wishes I hadn't come back. He knows I know, he's aware of how I'm the only one in the sea of people who refuses to take his bullshit, and for that, he is waiting for the day he can make me pay.

God I hate him and I want to take him down and save all these people.

Kinda scary abusive relationships

I've been sorta obsessing over one of my modules. Maybe because it's the only one that doesn't require any calculations or measuring values or shit. It's all to do with words, which I'm very relieved about hah.

It's called Understanding Relationships, and I remember how my teacher told us on the first lesson that by the end of this module, we'd be able to choose our future partners wisely. At the time I wasn't with anybody yet, but by the second week I was already sure who was best for me.

I keep talking about the things I learnt in this module because I'm kinda obsessed. I've been debating on whether I wanna blog about the 5 languages of love thing or the stories that my teacher told me, but I've decided on the latter because I haven't exactly put the 5 tips to use xD

So yeah. 3 stories that my teacher told me yesterday, which mainly focuses on abusive relationships. Or maybe more like abuse in relationships?

There was this girl who's in badminton for her CCA in school, and she's pretty committed to it so she's always in shorts and tshirts whenever you see her. She's also got these badminton rackets sticking out of her backpack, different special ones for different purposes.

One day her boyfriend wanted to introduce her to his friends at a BBQ, and he called her up telling her to wear a dress the next day, he'd pick her up from school and go there straight. She wasn't really comfortable with a dress of course, so she made no promises, just a simple see first lah.

When he came to her school the next day and saw her coming towards him in her shorts and tshirt, he was furious. Why'd you wear that when I told you last night to wear a dress? blah blah, but he was like forget it, and they got on his bike and he sped off.

They were on the highway and he was actually supermad about it, and was even plotting some way of revenge. He decided that he would drop her off the bike, leave her stranded on the highway and come pick her up later hoping she'll learn her lesson.

He did that thing where the top of the bike goes up, so the girl would lose her grip on him and fall off. Well, she did fall off, but the thing is, her backpack got caught on his bike, and she was dragged along the asphalt.

Worse is, he didn't even realise it, and went on riding with his girlfriend's body dragging across the road behind him. A few cars honked at him and he only saw her after he turned around to see what they were honking about.

That is fucking terrifying, and she was even conscious throughout the whole thing. Been years since that happened and she's got permanent scars down the left side of her body. Her boyfriend stayed with her everyday when she was at the hospital and apparently they're still together now.

Another story is about this very pretty/hot girl who was from my school. She's apparently very good-looking, has a nice body, and knows how to dress herself up. Kind too, so very attractive in every way uh. Her boyfriend is also from Ngee Ann but he was in another school.

So she was leading this project thing where her group was made of 4 guys and 2 other girls. Her boyfriend knew how guys are all attracted to her and she was always complaining about how the 2 girls always never turn up for group discussion, so he said the next time they don't show up, you just cancel off the meeting, don't want you to be alone with those 4 guys.

When the 2 girls bailed out on them again last minute, this girl just went on with the meeting because this project is important to her. She didn't even care about how the rest of the group were guys because they were just her classmates anyway.

But her boyfriend was so freaking mad when he knew, called her up and kept accusing her of taking the chance to flirt with the guys.

They decided to meet to talk shit out, at this quite isolated Mac somewhere at Ang Mo Kio or something. Blah yadda, they talked, and when he excused himself for awhile, he went behind her and grabbed her hair.

He was sick and tired of his girlfriend attracting so many other guys, so in order to keep her to himself, he wanted to make her hideous. He took out a pair of scissors, and because she was struggling so bad, he managed to cut out a large chunk of hair, leaving behind a near-to-bald patch at the back of her head.

She had to cut it real short, and everyone in her class was so shocked to see her looking like that. And coincidentally, she was going for her Understanding Relationships module, and they were talking about abusive relationships for that lesson as well.

The poor girl broke down, and the class stopped to ask her what's wrong. When they knew about her boyfriend, everyone was trying to get her to break up with him. They were such good support, and even her teacher (which was my teacher) tried to convince her to leave him.

My teacher said even though the damage wasn't as bad, this guy is worse than the first one, because of the intentions. The guy actually brought scissors to a date; he obviously had ill intentions and was even planning it. It was all about possession, the way he didn't want anyone else to have her. And it wasn't the first time he did something like that to her.

So the last story is a bit different. I'm pretty aware that not all girls are the abused in the relationship. Girls can be pretty brutal too, or in this case, women. I wasn't paying attention much to the background story of this one, so I have to keep it short and straight to the point.

The wife saw her husband e-mailing to his secretary or something, his exact words being my wife is such a boring and annoying woman I need to get out of here and shit, so of course she got pissed off at him.

And what did she do to teach him a lesson? She bit him on his arm with all her strength.

It was quite a hard bite, to the extent that he needed a lot of stitches. When asked why had she bitten on his arm of all places, her reason was so that the next time his hand stretches out to e-mail other women, he'd see his scars and be reminded of what would happen if he proceeds.

Yeah that's it haha, I was listening to these stories so intently, if only I could pay the same attention to my other modules. I'd share my thoughts on abuse in relationships too but nevermind this post is long enough xD