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
Thursday, January 08, 2015
Sunday, January 04, 2015
Drowning in perfume
The family whom I love so much is against me. Both my brothers and my sister-in-law only look at me in disdain, and my mother only talks to me to tell me to fuck off because I am an annoying motherfucker.
"Yeah that's all you're good at aren't you," she scorns. "Fuck your mother up?"
My little brother, my best friend; he stands beside her, looking at me like I am nothing more than a cockroach. Just for a second and then he looks away, as if the sight of me is just too much to bear.
I walk away slowly, for I have no confidence in where I'm going. I see them get into a taxi, not even giving me a glance, and off they go, leaving me alone at the side of the road.
I find a train station, or at least that's what all the signs on the building are saying. The first thing I find myself in is an elevator. There's a boy my age sitting at the other end, reading a book. I sit down at my own corner, taking out my own book.
After the elevator starts moving, it takes me a while to realise that this is the train. It can move vertically and horizontally, stops at many levels and pit stops, fetching more people that have backpacks on their shoulders.
The elevator's walls are made of glass, and I can see how it's circling around the inside of the building. I see people bustling about, going in and out of shops. It's like a city within concrete walls.
The boy with the book asks me what I am reading. As I tell him the story of it, he listens attentively. I notice the book in his hands and realise it's one I've read before, and I wish to myself that he won't explain his book to me.
One of the people who have gotten on at other stops looks at me, and his expression reminds me of the looks my brother and mother had given me. "I told you not to read here, didn't I?" he has a British accent. "Put it away right now, it isn't a place to show off your smarts."
I put my book away. The first boy puts his away too, and he gives me a shy smile.
If it isn't a place for 'smarts', then what is it a place for?, I want to ask.
A robotic voice fills the elevator, telling all of us to stay together as a group. I look around me to see all boys.
The elevator door opens and everyone files out, me and the boy with the book last. I don't catch his full name for it's from another language, so I call him G. "Can I stay close with you?" he asks. I nod, because it's better than being alone in this strange place.
Honestly, the building reminds me of a mall and school rolled into one and thrown into the pits of a jungle. The east side is where all the libraries and classrooms and dorms are, while the west side has all the bookstores and department stores and cinemas. Meanwhile, grass fills the ground entirely, trees grow all over the sides, bushes take over all the walls of the shops.
We keep walking, exploring all the nooks and crannies we encounter, develop friendships with one another. G takes my hand at one point and asks if it's okay. I hold on to him for a second before muttering, "I already have someone I like."
I hold open the library door for our comrades, and while most of them thank me, the one with the British accent and another tall bulky guy snap at me to never hold open the door for them. I let the last other guy pass through before I slam the door in their faces.
It opens again and British Accent lunges at me, slamming me onto the wall with a hand around my neck. Everyone of our other group members push him off and stand in a line in front of me, creating a barrier between us. As surprising as it is, it's also touching my heart in a weird way.
"I need to go to the toilet," I say, and with a glare towards British Accent, I make my way past tables and into the ladies at the side of the room. I stare at the mirror, and I don't know where I got it, but there's a huge cut that goes from under my eye to across my cheek and down the side of it, almost like the path a tear would go. Bruises shaped like fingers circle my neck.
I go outside to find my comrades nowhere in sight. A girl who's sitting at a table looks at me and says pityingly, "They're gone, yeap. They left without you."
That's when I go frantic. I run out the library and everywhere, trying to find my familiar faces. I whip my head around at every sound, every voice I hear, hoping to see G or the other losers I was starting to love the presence of.
I stumble upon twigs and branches. I don't stop to ease the itches the bushes left where they touched me. I lean against a tree with all my strength and get up to have my forehead and cheek indented with the pattern of its trunk. I cry salty tears that enter and sting the cut on my cheek.
A toy shop I'm passing by is giving away balloons, and even in the midst of my misery I go and take one. Mine is in the shape of an elephant, as long as my arm. I am admiring it, trying to cheer myself up when I see my comrades.
For some reason, I don't run to them and hug them in joyful reunion. They look like my comrades, but they are... not. The ones I know are calm, quiet, very nerdy. These are frantic and noisy, screaming nonsense and a little bit crazy. They're jumping around on these huge teddy bears like little kids. Not like the intelligent-looking people I met.
I watch as one of them picks up a teddy bear and starts running crazy outside the toy shop, swinging it around. He knocks over people, before swinging it one last time and knocking down a shelf of perfume bottles outside the neighbouring shops.
The crash is loud and it doesn't stop until complete silence. I unclasp my palms from my ears and open my eyes to see everyone has stopped to stare. The smell of the perfumes mixing in the air is overwhelming, and I am urged to cut off my nose to make it stop.
A piece from a perfume bottle had flown at me, stabbing me right at the side of my throat. I remove it and blood drips all over my elephant balloon. I seem to be the only one moving, my breathing being the only thing I hear that it almost starts to irritate me.
The owner from the perfume shop comes out and looks at my comrade, who is lying on the ground, he and the teddy bear stabbed with pieces of perfume bottles. It's a mess of meat and blood and teddy bear stuffing.
The old man says: "It's okay, you're just a child. I understand that you can't contain your excitement. It's okay, it's okay, it's okay." and he starts sweeping up whatever glass pieces his broom can reach.
My comrade stands up slowly and says: "I'll pay you back." he turns to look at me, but I cannot bear to see how his face will look like. I turn on my heels, and my shoulders are caught in a pair of hands; G's. He repeats what our comrade has said; "He'll pay back."
I don't care. I don't want to see. I release myself and try to run, going frantic all over again and this time in silence. I hide, wanting to kill myself to stop my breathing like how you'd want to kill a baby to stop its crying.
When I finally have the courage to return to the shopping mall side of this strange building, I see a small crowd gather in front of the perfume shop. I join G at the back, and he puts an arm around my waist, gently pushing me to the front so I could see what's going on.
There's our comrade, naked and skin painted black, with his mouth attached to the bottom of British Accent, who is shoving the trunk of my elephant balloon down his throat.
The perfume shop owner stands beside, collecting money thrown to him as mine and G's friends continue performing all sorts of obscenities with each other and my balloon. I stare for a long time, for I have not witnessed anything like it before. It can't be unseen ever.
Dreaming to me is like drowning. It starts off okay, like a swim, and then you realise you're too far gone from the shore, and it gets to a point where you can hardly breathe.
Waking up from a dream is just the same as finally breaking the surface after being too long underwater. I gasp for air every morning, thankful that I was not gonna be stuck down there forever until I die.
"Yeah that's all you're good at aren't you," she scorns. "Fuck your mother up?"
My little brother, my best friend; he stands beside her, looking at me like I am nothing more than a cockroach. Just for a second and then he looks away, as if the sight of me is just too much to bear.
I walk away slowly, for I have no confidence in where I'm going. I see them get into a taxi, not even giving me a glance, and off they go, leaving me alone at the side of the road.
I find a train station, or at least that's what all the signs on the building are saying. The first thing I find myself in is an elevator. There's a boy my age sitting at the other end, reading a book. I sit down at my own corner, taking out my own book.
After the elevator starts moving, it takes me a while to realise that this is the train. It can move vertically and horizontally, stops at many levels and pit stops, fetching more people that have backpacks on their shoulders.
The elevator's walls are made of glass, and I can see how it's circling around the inside of the building. I see people bustling about, going in and out of shops. It's like a city within concrete walls.
The boy with the book asks me what I am reading. As I tell him the story of it, he listens attentively. I notice the book in his hands and realise it's one I've read before, and I wish to myself that he won't explain his book to me.
One of the people who have gotten on at other stops looks at me, and his expression reminds me of the looks my brother and mother had given me. "I told you not to read here, didn't I?" he has a British accent. "Put it away right now, it isn't a place to show off your smarts."
I put my book away. The first boy puts his away too, and he gives me a shy smile.
If it isn't a place for 'smarts', then what is it a place for?, I want to ask.
A robotic voice fills the elevator, telling all of us to stay together as a group. I look around me to see all boys.
The elevator door opens and everyone files out, me and the boy with the book last. I don't catch his full name for it's from another language, so I call him G. "Can I stay close with you?" he asks. I nod, because it's better than being alone in this strange place.
Honestly, the building reminds me of a mall and school rolled into one and thrown into the pits of a jungle. The east side is where all the libraries and classrooms and dorms are, while the west side has all the bookstores and department stores and cinemas. Meanwhile, grass fills the ground entirely, trees grow all over the sides, bushes take over all the walls of the shops.
We keep walking, exploring all the nooks and crannies we encounter, develop friendships with one another. G takes my hand at one point and asks if it's okay. I hold on to him for a second before muttering, "I already have someone I like."
I hold open the library door for our comrades, and while most of them thank me, the one with the British accent and another tall bulky guy snap at me to never hold open the door for them. I let the last other guy pass through before I slam the door in their faces.
It opens again and British Accent lunges at me, slamming me onto the wall with a hand around my neck. Everyone of our other group members push him off and stand in a line in front of me, creating a barrier between us. As surprising as it is, it's also touching my heart in a weird way.
"I need to go to the toilet," I say, and with a glare towards British Accent, I make my way past tables and into the ladies at the side of the room. I stare at the mirror, and I don't know where I got it, but there's a huge cut that goes from under my eye to across my cheek and down the side of it, almost like the path a tear would go. Bruises shaped like fingers circle my neck.
I go outside to find my comrades nowhere in sight. A girl who's sitting at a table looks at me and says pityingly, "They're gone, yeap. They left without you."
That's when I go frantic. I run out the library and everywhere, trying to find my familiar faces. I whip my head around at every sound, every voice I hear, hoping to see G or the other losers I was starting to love the presence of.
I stumble upon twigs and branches. I don't stop to ease the itches the bushes left where they touched me. I lean against a tree with all my strength and get up to have my forehead and cheek indented with the pattern of its trunk. I cry salty tears that enter and sting the cut on my cheek.
A toy shop I'm passing by is giving away balloons, and even in the midst of my misery I go and take one. Mine is in the shape of an elephant, as long as my arm. I am admiring it, trying to cheer myself up when I see my comrades.
For some reason, I don't run to them and hug them in joyful reunion. They look like my comrades, but they are... not. The ones I know are calm, quiet, very nerdy. These are frantic and noisy, screaming nonsense and a little bit crazy. They're jumping around on these huge teddy bears like little kids. Not like the intelligent-looking people I met.
I watch as one of them picks up a teddy bear and starts running crazy outside the toy shop, swinging it around. He knocks over people, before swinging it one last time and knocking down a shelf of perfume bottles outside the neighbouring shops.
The crash is loud and it doesn't stop until complete silence. I unclasp my palms from my ears and open my eyes to see everyone has stopped to stare. The smell of the perfumes mixing in the air is overwhelming, and I am urged to cut off my nose to make it stop.
A piece from a perfume bottle had flown at me, stabbing me right at the side of my throat. I remove it and blood drips all over my elephant balloon. I seem to be the only one moving, my breathing being the only thing I hear that it almost starts to irritate me.
The owner from the perfume shop comes out and looks at my comrade, who is lying on the ground, he and the teddy bear stabbed with pieces of perfume bottles. It's a mess of meat and blood and teddy bear stuffing.
The old man says: "It's okay, you're just a child. I understand that you can't contain your excitement. It's okay, it's okay, it's okay." and he starts sweeping up whatever glass pieces his broom can reach.
My comrade stands up slowly and says: "I'll pay you back." he turns to look at me, but I cannot bear to see how his face will look like. I turn on my heels, and my shoulders are caught in a pair of hands; G's. He repeats what our comrade has said; "He'll pay back."
I don't care. I don't want to see. I release myself and try to run, going frantic all over again and this time in silence. I hide, wanting to kill myself to stop my breathing like how you'd want to kill a baby to stop its crying.
When I finally have the courage to return to the shopping mall side of this strange building, I see a small crowd gather in front of the perfume shop. I join G at the back, and he puts an arm around my waist, gently pushing me to the front so I could see what's going on.
There's our comrade, naked and skin painted black, with his mouth attached to the bottom of British Accent, who is shoving the trunk of my elephant balloon down his throat.
The perfume shop owner stands beside, collecting money thrown to him as mine and G's friends continue performing all sorts of obscenities with each other and my balloon. I stare for a long time, for I have not witnessed anything like it before. It can't be unseen ever.
Dreaming to me is like drowning. It starts off okay, like a swim, and then you realise you're too far gone from the shore, and it gets to a point where you can hardly breathe.
Waking up from a dream is just the same as finally breaking the surface after being too long underwater. I gasp for air every morning, thankful that I was not gonna be stuck down there forever until I die.
Friday, January 02, 2015
New year resolutions that I WILL fulfill
"New year. new me" blabla I don't care, let's just get right into what the title says.
Just so you know, I seldom set resolutions for the new year and all that shit. I'm making this list only because I am very sure I'd achieve all of them! 1 year from now, I'd look back and self-praise myself for having such a fulfilling year. :D
1. Read 100 books/finish whatever book challenges
This one's already underway. I'm already completing my first book of the year, which is also on the 2015 Reading Challenge as "a book by an author you've never read before".
I'm not sure how many books I'd read in 2014, but I'm quite confident I can reach 100 for this year, because I fulfilled 50 in less than 6 months. As long as I read at least 10 books in every month, I'm all good~ I just hope I'll never get into any reading slumps.
2. Redecorate my room a little bit
I've got this plain blank wall above my bed in my Pasir Ris bedroom, and I hate how clean it looks. I just wanna draw all over it, but I'll make do with posters. Planning to paste some South Park and Pokemon posters, and a map of Singapore on it.
I'm also really longing to buy those corkboards where you can paste stuff on using pins. Would just love to stick all kinds of photos from 2014 and 2015.
3. Revamp le wardrobe
I've been wearing the same clothes for 2 whole years, and even I'm starting to feel suffocated from it. I think that's enough said for this resolution, heh.
4. Save $1 every day
I saw someone who did this for 2014, and I thought it was a great idea. Just hope that I can fulfill it myself though. But it's annoying that you wanna buy so many stuff when you're broke, but you've no idea what to buy when you do have lots of money.
5. I don't know, just do what makes me happy
And at this point, a lot of things actually do make me happy! This year I shall just read books and record videos of everything and go everywhere with my wind and eat everything I like with no more worries of getting fat and blog about everyone I meet and fall in love with just everything all over again.
I'm still sad that 2014 is over because it was the ride of my life. I honestly get turned off when I see people being all moody about oh "2014 was when I learnt people will leave" blabla. If it took you so long to realise that then well y u so dum? A lot of people left me too but I'm still jumping with joy when looking back at the year I had.
I'd just go with whatever because every year is like Wonderland, you can do whatever the heck you want. I really don't mind if doing something will get me hurt in the near future, because it's just how life is.
Looking forward to what 2015 has in store for me. I'm no longer gonna be a teen, because it's the year I'm turning 20. So freaking scary.
Just so you know, I seldom set resolutions for the new year and all that shit. I'm making this list only because I am very sure I'd achieve all of them! 1 year from now, I'd look back and self-praise myself for having such a fulfilling year. :D
1. Read 100 books/finish whatever book challenges
This one's already underway. I'm already completing my first book of the year, which is also on the 2015 Reading Challenge as "a book by an author you've never read before".
I'm not sure how many books I'd read in 2014, but I'm quite confident I can reach 100 for this year, because I fulfilled 50 in less than 6 months. As long as I read at least 10 books in every month, I'm all good~ I just hope I'll never get into any reading slumps.
2. Redecorate my room a little bit
I've got this plain blank wall above my bed in my Pasir Ris bedroom, and I hate how clean it looks. I just wanna draw all over it, but I'll make do with posters. Planning to paste some South Park and Pokemon posters, and a map of Singapore on it.
I'm also really longing to buy those corkboards where you can paste stuff on using pins. Would just love to stick all kinds of photos from 2014 and 2015.
3. Revamp le wardrobe
I've been wearing the same clothes for 2 whole years, and even I'm starting to feel suffocated from it. I think that's enough said for this resolution, heh.
4. Save $1 every day
I saw someone who did this for 2014, and I thought it was a great idea. Just hope that I can fulfill it myself though. But it's annoying that you wanna buy so many stuff when you're broke, but you've no idea what to buy when you do have lots of money.
5. I don't know, just do what makes me happy
And at this point, a lot of things actually do make me happy! This year I shall just read books and record videos of everything and go everywhere with my wind and eat everything I like with no more worries of getting fat and blog about everyone I meet and fall in love with just everything all over again.
I'm still sad that 2014 is over because it was the ride of my life. I honestly get turned off when I see people being all moody about oh "2014 was when I learnt people will leave" blabla. If it took you so long to realise that then well y u so dum? A lot of people left me too but I'm still jumping with joy when looking back at the year I had.
I'd just go with whatever because every year is like Wonderland, you can do whatever the heck you want. I really don't mind if doing something will get me hurt in the near future, because it's just how life is.
Looking forward to what 2015 has in store for me. I'm no longer gonna be a teen, because it's the year I'm turning 20. So freaking scary.
Wednesday, December 31, 2014
The Wonderland that is 2014
Call me crazy but I consider myself lucky for going through so much bullshit in life. Beginning of the year, I was left by the love of my life; I'd followed my broken heart down the rabbit hole, into the Wonderland that is 2014.
I'm glad he left me, because I wouldn't have gone through all these things, be they wonderful or horrible, and not only am I thankful for him, but I will also keep the memories of this place called 2014 in my heart for as long as I live.
This year was an adventure far worse and better than anything Alice had gone through in her own Wonderland. I returned to my parents, had fights with them; I made a ton of new friends, lost just the same many; I fell in love many times, got my heart broken; I gained many new family members, lost a fair share.
Have you seen the many bracelets I wear on my left wrist? They aren't just ornaments for my hand but they have meanings to each. They were given by many different people, and I use that to represent everyone else who came into my life the same way.
If Wonderland was just a figment of a girl's imagination, then I'm glad I have these bracelets, proof that 2014 ever existed at all. I have no intention to forget anything from this year, and I will never.
I remember Loy, whom I was awkward and shy with but who helped me in Daeln. I never got a chance to show her how annoying I am, or got to know her better, but I will always remember how sweet she was to me, and I will always keep her bracelet.
I remember the boy named Aloysius whom we all called Tom. He had admired me for the way I kept going after my break-up, glad that I was still laughing with him, Loy and Shihui no matter how sad I was.
I remember how Shan listened to me at Holland, comforted me with not just words but actions too. I remember the little things he told me about himself, the story of the book he wished to write, his dreams and ambitions.
I remember how Jin asked me for my name on the second week of school, and the first thing about him that I noticed hahaha. He'd say stupid things to make me laugh, listen to what's going on in my life, confide in me what's in his.
I remember how Justin would keep turning the switches on my desk on and off just to irritate me. The really silly things he kept talking about in APPG, the way he'd ask me random questions and make fun of me for the slightest.
I remember Shafiq, how he'd always call me just to say hi no matter what, the way he'd exclaimed how nice my hair was. I appreciate the rare times I could talk with him, because we seldom see each other in school anymore.
I remember how Susan would always come saying hi whenever I'm at the atrium alone. She'd talk about the randomest things and randomest people just to update me on her life, and we'd laugh at the craziest things.
I remember Hidir, the only other person I know who loves Singapore so much. I appreciate how he'd come over to me or wait for me to actually talk to me. And the things we'd talk about; how they'd range from crazy to deep.
I remember hearing about Hafizah a lot last sem, only getting to meet her when we were forced into a group together. We'd talk about whatever came to our minds, try to control our laughter at the back of Daeln lab, make plans about graduating together.
I remember Shihui, the only one who still gets excited everytime she sees me, I can be just as silly with without being embarrassed, make me laugh without even trying. The best friend from last year when we realised we were in the same boat.
I remember the people I worked with on my first night; Amanda, Jessie, Roger, how they were patient with me even though the crowds were stressing them out. Amanda advising about future studying, Jessie answering my questions patiently, Roger telling his own struggles with studies.
I remember Naff and Alee, making work with them always fun when they bully each other; Naff with her random dancing, Alee with his random comments. How they are the only ones at work I could laugh and babble on and on with about meaningless things.
I remember everyone else; Naz and Hafian, Esther and Shuwen, the way they'd helped me with anything I was struggling with. Eri, how she'd laugh at anything, make me laugh and at the same time disciplining me to do better.
I remember Mel making me noodles when I'd ended up at her doorstep during my break-up. The words she said over and over to make sure I got it. She'd been the one who taught me that I should start living for myself rather than others.
I remember Naqib coming to Woodlands just to fetch me when I was being a stupid and sad girl. He even sent me all the way back to Pasir Ris even though he lived in Yishun, also speaking the same advice repeatedly because I was being stubborn, refusing to move on.
I remember how Farhan came to me just to ask how I was because he'd dreamt 3 bad dreams of me in a row. We had talked about our own experiences with the dreams we had at night. He was probably the only other person who'd understand my thing with the dreams.
I remember wanting to make friends with Juyani, but still feeling so embarrassed about the time I talked to her out of the blue during my break-up. I still want to make friends with her but I don't dare approach her anymore because I'm still embarrassed by that.
I remember Danny watching me sob my eyes out, comforting me even though he had difficulty with words. He'd sent me all the way to school, even waiting til I was dismissed from counseling, went through the troubles of buying me iced milo despite his social anxiety. I remember his long texts that had made me cry, his inner devastation when all I did was push him away.
I remember how Azim had called me kawaii, how he'd said I looked like a strawberry of all things, how we'd hung out at his school to 'study' when really we were just laughing at stupid things. I remember how I'd let him down, extinguished the tiny chance we could have had.
I remember the people of Estfut, making me giggle so hard to myself in the library. They were the first Whatsapp group I ever had, and I never got to be close to them because of a fall-out with one of them but I remember everyone and all the things we'd talked and raged about.
I remember Roshan, how he'd been so sincere in his feelings for me. How he liked me so much to the extent that he thought I was the one. I'm so grateful he'd felt that way, even though I'd pushed him away and taken it out on him, treated him as negligently as how my own crush had to me.
I remember Diyanah and her talking to me anonymously, how assured I was that somebody was there for me. I remember the way I'd looked at her and how she effortlessly had the one person that I wanted, how I could never in any way be like her, how I had to just trust that she would take care of him like I couldn't.
I remember Yazid, how I'd gotten so close to him only after my break-up. How he'd become my best friend in that few months, how we'd so easily talked and laughed about the most ridiculous things, made fun of each other like we were friends for such a long time. I remember how he always felt emotions on my behalf, from happiness in my moving on, to anger for my being cheated on.
I remember the way Zara stared at me when she saw me for the first time, how adorably she'd said "So that's how your voice sounded like!", how she was the one person at the time that I wanted to talk to about my crush. How she'd pulled me back to stand with her and her friends, telling me I was not allowed to stand alone whenever I tried to saunter away from the circle.
I remember Adly for everything he'd gone through for me, the way he'd felt emotions he didn't deserve because of me. I remember the way he'd try so hard to look cool all the time, but how easily I was able to make him laugh like a small kid. I remember him for all my stupid metaphors that he is, for all the times we fell back together despite being polar opposites.
I remember how Luqman had been the first one there for me after my break-up, the one I'd liked for everything that he was. I remember all the feelings I had for him, all the confusion and complication that circled us, all his thoughts that I wished I'd known sooner, all the hope he'd held without realising. I remember him as the one thing that I hoped to be, but never will be.
I remember Seira. 'Love' that was forbidden and had to be kept secret. A lover that may or may not have been there. Just another ghost floating in my soul.
First off, I continue to love Heroine because they were a family, and because it was thanks to this group I'd started to welcome the magic of birthdays back into my life. If it wasn't for the celebrations for Yat, Zye, Asyiq, Acap, no matter how small, and the wishes on mine, no matter how short, I would have continued hating birthdays. I will always remember this deed done by Heroine.
I remember the old Heroines, our many voice notes that would make me laugh so hard; our very first meeting at a rooftop beside Kallang station. I remember Hakim Shrek trying to quit smoking under my influence; I remember Mawar loving the younger Heroines like her little siblings; I remember Syafiq making a song out of my poems, I remember Anis, I remember Afad, I remember Ayumi.
I remember the newer and probably current Heroines, the few interactions I'd had with them. I remember Syaf waving at me from our school library; I remember Yat always copying my words and calling me a ghost; I remember Eka, how she seemed to admire me and like me no matter what, I remember Hakim, laughing at the faces I made; I remember Atiqah, I remember Feezah, I remember Asyiq, I remember Shawn.
I remember Izni, the things she'd told me in our taxi ride home from jalan raya. How I hadn't done anything more than listen, thinking about how I'd gone through that myself years before. I remember her for the person she shows everyone, because I never had courage to talk to her more than that.
I remember Hanafi, how I thought he was so tall, how weird he was when he first started talking in Estfut. I remember him for how he didn't easily forget things I said, for the things he told me that I never got to know if they were true or not, for how I thought he reminded me of the person I used to be.
I remember how Arie first talked to me during our jalan raya when I was starting to feel left out, how his exterior was the contrast of who he really was and how easily he laughed at little things. I remember him as a ghost for who he is and done and his obsession with zombies and all things scary.
I remember Acap for the many things he talked about, from his DJ stuff to his love life, how cool he may have seemed on the outside but how funny and irritating he actually was to me, the way he looked at me as I was talking about books, pretending to be interested.
I remember the way Zim would smile at everything he or I said, how we'd sat at a void deck talking about love lives over KFC, how we'd wandered around Woodlands with a motor helmet and a camera. I remember him for having been one of my first best friends of Heroine that never left.
I remember Effa, her voice when she sings and when she laughs, how she gave so much effort and love for people who did not deserve it. I remember how funny and happy she is with her friends, never forgetting the pain she felt inside. I remember in regret how I watched in silence as she suffered, from way back in February, without having guts to do or say anything.
I remember Naz for this group she's put together, how she loved everyone and vice versa. I remember her as someone I've wronged but never apologised to, only realising the mistake of not listening to her side of the story too late. I remember my sins toward her and her reactions to it that I would not blame her for.
I remember Zye and his lame jokes that he was always able to make funny, how he had a crush on me, the things he was attracted to me for. How broken he was when I rejected him for someone who didn't deserve it, his long text spewing all his feelings. I remember him as the big brother I never had, as someone whom I could run to and hide whenever I'm scared.
I remember Waikit for the senpai he's been since 2008 until now, how he'd called me sweet for having appreciated him when his other friends from secondary school had long forgotten who he was.
I remember Natalee and her enthusiasm for wanting to bring me to a cat cafe, how she's never failed to wish me on my birthday for years now.
I remember how shy Marissa had been to talk to me, how she'd thought I was an inspiration sometimes, how she'd been one of the few people I was surprised to know knew my birthday.
I remember Asleah leaving me so impressed with the dance skills I didn't believe she had, always looking so confident on stage. How she still made me laugh on the very rare times I managed to meet her.
I remember Pearl for continuing to laugh at my lame jokes even til now, on the few occasions I could see her. She'd always have her holidays on our school days and the other way around, being in Lasalle, and I appreciate the one time I managed to meet her this year.
I remember how Sabrina would put so much time and effort into her schoolwork, into hosting the 6th Reunion, into getting us souvenirs whenever she went on holiday, without fail. I remember our stroll around the airport, how she'd roll her eyes at my wisecracks.
I remember Shushan getting progressively prettier every time I see her, and yet still maintaining her super lameness. I remember the weird things she'd buy at bookfairs, like the binder and laminating machine, as if she'd wanted to make her own office in her bedroom.
I remember Siying always. I remember her spending yet another birthday with me, being the first I'd confided in about the wind's return, being the one to know me better than anyone without even talking to me for such a long period of time.
I remember how Farizah had been a host for my frequent visits to her school, how we'd reminisced about secondary school years in the zone of life beyond. I remember how she'd been so happy as well whenever I caught sight of my own crush.
I remember my only girl cousin, always so concerned and asking about school and my relationships even though she's got other things to worry about.
I remember my grandfather, still so spirited and chuckling to himself even on a hospital bed, his tendency to wander off like I would.
I remember my oldest uncle, putting all his love into renovating his new house, his constant anger and irritation to humans, only going soft and loving around his cat and kittens.
I remember my second uncle, how he'd make me laugh with his random comments when we're watching television or just hanging around in the kitchen together.
I remember my aunt, the look on her face when I came home heart-broken and hungover, only to tell her I was leaving and going back to my parents. I remember her being the dartboard for my frustrations, how she still loved me after I left her for a family she'd promised to protect me from.
I remember my father, hugging me after 2 whole years of not seeing me, holding back his tears as he said: "Daddy missed you so much."
I remember my sister-in-law, my awkwardness with her still labelled love compared to the dislike I felt for her the first time I saw her. Her text being the longest I'd received on my birthday, her being so concerned for me despite not being my real sister.
I remember my niece, staring at me with huge eyes the day after she was born, stopping her cries only after I rubbed her cheek.
I remember my big brother as the one and only person in the world that I hate.
I remember my little brother that I never got to see through puberty, the one person to live with my insanity and candidness every day and still remain my best friend.
I remember my mother, finally giving me reasons to believe she was proud of me and loved me, appealing against my dismissal from school, fighting for my life on my behalf.
I remember my grandmother, calling me every day if I'm at Pasir Ris or out, never staying mad at me for long, still making me hot milo even when she is.
I remember being afraid of how Yuyul would see me, considering that she was a friend of my big brother's, but she'd been so nice to me. I remember the conversations with her that I never had with my own big brother.
I remember Nura whenever I am writing a new blog post, because she never fails to consume my words. I remember her as one of the very few people who follows and understands my every thought, and every new post is like a letter I'm personally writing to her.
I remember Ariff and his passion for flight and the aviation industry, his will to live every single day despite knowing he only has few left. I remember the love I had for him that existed only as smoke and never a flame, clouds and never a plane.
I remember Elin for being the person I have wronged, who still forgave me, who was so excited for our new friendship. She'd ask how I was, listen to me ramble on, make effort to type out long texts of advice. As much as I am grateful for her, I'd sometimes wish I could be more like myself with her and not shy anymore.
I remember Para, who anonymously asked how I was when he saw my depressing tweets, even gaining guts later on to admit it was him, and still occasionally asked how I was.
I remember Huda and Atiqah, Farizah's poly friends who let me study with them, taught me engineering Maths and gave me cookies to munch on whilst so, even making me laugh with their random stories.
I remember Aqilah and Aliff, the laughs we had at Aqilah's house, the time we'd gone to catch Lucy and taken a stroll down the city. I should have loosened up a little with Aqilah, being the same age as her, and I should have diverted the attention to Aliff, seeing how sad he'd been that day.
I remember Athirah and her love for cats, the way she'd jump-scared me half to death and laughed her head off while I laid half-dead on the floor. I remember the way she held on to me at Halloween Horror Nights, hid behind me when a zombie scared her, making me feel like I had a younger sister.
I remember Zaim being so pleasantly surprised, impressed even, to know my fascination with trains, my love for reading and writing, how it'd flattered me; I remember Fir, for his constant singing in the background that always made me laugh whenever I was talking to his cousin through the phone.
I remember 'Aamir as the flower I'd plucked off the field; as the bird who flew away as and when it liked; as the sun who continued watching me even from behind the clouds; as the river who pushed me along to places I never dared venture on my own. I remember him as everything; as the name that has been written beside mine.
I remember Pasir Ris, its constant changing alongside my own growing older. Every inch of it that's been memorised, every change it's gone and going through; like a sibling that is growing up together with you.
I remember Paya Lebar, the one thing I want that I never did have, its ground being a shelter to my past and future, for I have chosen it as my real home.
I remember passion, the only strength I ever had. My books, my metaphors, my dreams, my flaws; the things that push me apart from other people are what pull me together.
I remember life as my lover. I'd fallen in love with the view outside the window, the moon that followed me where I go, the wind that kept messing up my hair. I'd fallen in love with holding my chin up high, with walking on despite being so tired, with giving all I have to somebody who doesn't deserve it. I remember life as the one place where I'd fallen in love with everything and everyone.
365 days in this Wonderland had all possible routes walked, all strange characters met. While I may be nothing more than a lost girl to the eyes of the people I'd met, they on the other hand will stay etched into my memory as strong individuals for as long as I live.
I dare not live without pain as much as it's lonely to not be cared for.
I am in love with the idea of being alive, all of its flaws.
I am 19 and young, and I'd plunge myself down a waterfall despite my fear of the deep blue, for I wish to remain reckless with the love that is life.
***Initially edited this to the original version of Wonderland by Taylor Swift, but of course it got copyrighted, so I changed the audio to a cover by At Sunset.***
When the love of my life left me at the beginning of the year, I'd followed my broken heart down the rabbit hole, and stumbled upon the Wonderland that is 2014.
Sounds cheesy, I know hah, but yes that's how the year has turned out. I've met so many new friends, went on so many fun outings.
Okay the first half of the video focuses on my love for the roads that was borne of my loneliness at the beginning of the year, and the later half on the laughs I've had with both old and new friends later on. I'm very blessed for everything that 2014 came to be, even though I'd felt like I was gonna die back in January.
I'm glad he left me, because I wouldn't have gone through all these things, be they wonderful or horrible, and not only am I thankful for him, but I will also keep the memories of this place called 2014 in my heart for as long as I live.
This year was an adventure far worse and better than anything Alice had gone through in her own Wonderland. I returned to my parents, had fights with them; I made a ton of new friends, lost just the same many; I fell in love many times, got my heart broken; I gained many new family members, lost a fair share.
Have you seen the many bracelets I wear on my left wrist? They aren't just ornaments for my hand but they have meanings to each. They were given by many different people, and I use that to represent everyone else who came into my life the same way.
If Wonderland was just a figment of a girl's imagination, then I'm glad I have these bracelets, proof that 2014 ever existed at all. I have no intention to forget anything from this year, and I will never.
A bracelet from my year 1 classmate to represent the friends who'd supported and made me laugh in poly.
I remember the boy named Aloysius whom we all called Tom. He had admired me for the way I kept going after my break-up, glad that I was still laughing with him, Loy and Shihui no matter how sad I was.
I remember how Shan listened to me at Holland, comforted me with not just words but actions too. I remember the little things he told me about himself, the story of the book he wished to write, his dreams and ambitions.
I remember how Jin asked me for my name on the second week of school, and the first thing about him that I noticed hahaha. He'd say stupid things to make me laugh, listen to what's going on in my life, confide in me what's in his.
I remember how Justin would keep turning the switches on my desk on and off just to irritate me. The really silly things he kept talking about in APPG, the way he'd ask me random questions and make fun of me for the slightest.
I remember Shafiq, how he'd always call me just to say hi no matter what, the way he'd exclaimed how nice my hair was. I appreciate the rare times I could talk with him, because we seldom see each other in school anymore.
I remember how Susan would always come saying hi whenever I'm at the atrium alone. She'd talk about the randomest things and randomest people just to update me on her life, and we'd laugh at the craziest things.
I remember Hidir, the only other person I know who loves Singapore so much. I appreciate how he'd come over to me or wait for me to actually talk to me. And the things we'd talk about; how they'd range from crazy to deep.
I remember hearing about Hafizah a lot last sem, only getting to meet her when we were forced into a group together. We'd talk about whatever came to our minds, try to control our laughter at the back of Daeln lab, make plans about graduating together.
I remember Shihui, the only one who still gets excited everytime she sees me, I can be just as silly with without being embarrassed, make me laugh without even trying. The best friend from last year when we realised we were in the same boat.
A thin red hair-tie from one of my managers, to represent the people I've worked with at my new part-time job.
I remember Naff and Alee, making work with them always fun when they bully each other; Naff with her random dancing, Alee with his random comments. How they are the only ones at work I could laugh and babble on and on with about meaningless things.
I remember everyone else; Naz and Hafian, Esther and Shuwen, the way they'd helped me with anything I was struggling with. Eri, how she'd laugh at anything, make me laugh and at the same time disciplining me to do better.
One of those loom band bracelets in gayblue, from one of the wind's secondary schoolmates, to represent the great friends lost when I lost him...
I remember Naqib coming to Woodlands just to fetch me when I was being a stupid and sad girl. He even sent me all the way back to Pasir Ris even though he lived in Yishun, also speaking the same advice repeatedly because I was being stubborn, refusing to move on.
I remember how Farhan came to me just to ask how I was because he'd dreamt 3 bad dreams of me in a row. We had talked about our own experiences with the dreams we had at night. He was probably the only other person who'd understand my thing with the dreams.
I remember wanting to make friends with Juyani, but still feeling so embarrassed about the time I talked to her out of the blue during my break-up. I still want to make friends with her but I don't dare approach her anymore because I'm still embarrassed by that.
...and the greater friends gained when I lost him.
I remember how Azim had called me kawaii, how he'd said I looked like a strawberry of all things, how we'd hung out at his school to 'study' when really we were just laughing at stupid things. I remember how I'd let him down, extinguished the tiny chance we could have had.
I remember the people of Estfut, making me giggle so hard to myself in the library. They were the first Whatsapp group I ever had, and I never got to be close to them because of a fall-out with one of them but I remember everyone and all the things we'd talked and raged about.
I remember Roshan, how he'd been so sincere in his feelings for me. How he liked me so much to the extent that he thought I was the one. I'm so grateful he'd felt that way, even though I'd pushed him away and taken it out on him, treated him as negligently as how my own crush had to me.
I remember Diyanah and her talking to me anonymously, how assured I was that somebody was there for me. I remember the way I'd looked at her and how she effortlessly had the one person that I wanted, how I could never in any way be like her, how I had to just trust that she would take care of him like I couldn't.
I remember Yazid, how I'd gotten so close to him only after my break-up. How he'd become my best friend in that few months, how we'd so easily talked and laughed about the most ridiculous things, made fun of each other like we were friends for such a long time. I remember how he always felt emotions on my behalf, from happiness in my moving on, to anger for my being cheated on.
I remember the way Zara stared at me when she saw me for the first time, how adorably she'd said "So that's how your voice sounded like!", how she was the one person at the time that I wanted to talk to about my crush. How she'd pulled me back to stand with her and her friends, telling me I was not allowed to stand alone whenever I tried to saunter away from the circle.
I remember Adly for everything he'd gone through for me, the way he'd felt emotions he didn't deserve because of me. I remember the way he'd try so hard to look cool all the time, but how easily I was able to make him laugh like a small kid. I remember him for all my stupid metaphors that he is, for all the times we fell back together despite being polar opposites.
I remember how Luqman had been the first one there for me after my break-up, the one I'd liked for everything that he was. I remember all the feelings I had for him, all the confusion and complication that circled us, all his thoughts that I wished I'd known sooner, all the hope he'd held without realising. I remember him as the one thing that I hoped to be, but never will be.
I remember Seira. 'Love' that was forbidden and had to be kept secret. A lover that may or may not have been there. Just another ghost floating in my soul.
A rusty chain from a Heroine, to represent the best Whatsapp group ever.
I remember the old Heroines, our many voice notes that would make me laugh so hard; our very first meeting at a rooftop beside Kallang station. I remember Hakim Shrek trying to quit smoking under my influence; I remember Mawar loving the younger Heroines like her little siblings; I remember Syafiq making a song out of my poems, I remember Anis, I remember Afad, I remember Ayumi.
I remember the newer and probably current Heroines, the few interactions I'd had with them. I remember Syaf waving at me from our school library; I remember Yat always copying my words and calling me a ghost; I remember Eka, how she seemed to admire me and like me no matter what, I remember Hakim, laughing at the faces I made; I remember Atiqah, I remember Feezah, I remember Asyiq, I remember Shawn.
I remember Izni, the things she'd told me in our taxi ride home from jalan raya. How I hadn't done anything more than listen, thinking about how I'd gone through that myself years before. I remember her for the person she shows everyone, because I never had courage to talk to her more than that.
I remember Hanafi, how I thought he was so tall, how weird he was when he first started talking in Estfut. I remember him for how he didn't easily forget things I said, for the things he told me that I never got to know if they were true or not, for how I thought he reminded me of the person I used to be.
I remember how Arie first talked to me during our jalan raya when I was starting to feel left out, how his exterior was the contrast of who he really was and how easily he laughed at little things. I remember him as a ghost for who he is and done and his obsession with zombies and all things scary.
I remember Acap for the many things he talked about, from his DJ stuff to his love life, how cool he may have seemed on the outside but how funny and irritating he actually was to me, the way he looked at me as I was talking about books, pretending to be interested.
I remember the way Zim would smile at everything he or I said, how we'd sat at a void deck talking about love lives over KFC, how we'd wandered around Woodlands with a motor helmet and a camera. I remember him for having been one of my first best friends of Heroine that never left.
I remember Effa, her voice when she sings and when she laughs, how she gave so much effort and love for people who did not deserve it. I remember how funny and happy she is with her friends, never forgetting the pain she felt inside. I remember in regret how I watched in silence as she suffered, from way back in February, without having guts to do or say anything.
I remember Naz for this group she's put together, how she loved everyone and vice versa. I remember her as someone I've wronged but never apologised to, only realising the mistake of not listening to her side of the story too late. I remember my sins toward her and her reactions to it that I would not blame her for.
I remember Zye and his lame jokes that he was always able to make funny, how he had a crush on me, the things he was attracted to me for. How broken he was when I rejected him for someone who didn't deserve it, his long text spewing all his feelings. I remember him as the big brother I never had, as someone whom I could run to and hide whenever I'm scared.
A watch from my best friend, to represent the best that I still have from secondary school.
I remember Natalee and her enthusiasm for wanting to bring me to a cat cafe, how she's never failed to wish me on my birthday for years now.
I remember how shy Marissa had been to talk to me, how she'd thought I was an inspiration sometimes, how she'd been one of the few people I was surprised to know knew my birthday.
I remember Asleah leaving me so impressed with the dance skills I didn't believe she had, always looking so confident on stage. How she still made me laugh on the very rare times I managed to meet her.
I remember Pearl for continuing to laugh at my lame jokes even til now, on the few occasions I could see her. She'd always have her holidays on our school days and the other way around, being in Lasalle, and I appreciate the one time I managed to meet her this year.
I remember how Sabrina would put so much time and effort into her schoolwork, into hosting the 6th Reunion, into getting us souvenirs whenever she went on holiday, without fail. I remember our stroll around the airport, how she'd roll her eyes at my wisecracks.
I remember Shushan getting progressively prettier every time I see her, and yet still maintaining her super lameness. I remember the weird things she'd buy at bookfairs, like the binder and laminating machine, as if she'd wanted to make her own office in her bedroom.
I remember Siying always. I remember her spending yet another birthday with me, being the first I'd confided in about the wind's return, being the one to know me better than anyone without even talking to me for such a long period of time.
I remember how Farizah had been a host for my frequent visits to her school, how we'd reminisced about secondary school years in the zone of life beyond. I remember how she'd been so happy as well whenever I caught sight of my own crush.
A piece of wood with my name on it, dangling off a band from my mother, to represent the family she's brought me.
I remember my grandfather, still so spirited and chuckling to himself even on a hospital bed, his tendency to wander off like I would.
I remember my oldest uncle, putting all his love into renovating his new house, his constant anger and irritation to humans, only going soft and loving around his cat and kittens.
I remember my second uncle, how he'd make me laugh with his random comments when we're watching television or just hanging around in the kitchen together.
I remember my aunt, the look on her face when I came home heart-broken and hungover, only to tell her I was leaving and going back to my parents. I remember her being the dartboard for my frustrations, how she still loved me after I left her for a family she'd promised to protect me from.
I remember my father, hugging me after 2 whole years of not seeing me, holding back his tears as he said: "Daddy missed you so much."
I remember my sister-in-law, my awkwardness with her still labelled love compared to the dislike I felt for her the first time I saw her. Her text being the longest I'd received on my birthday, her being so concerned for me despite not being my real sister.
I remember my niece, staring at me with huge eyes the day after she was born, stopping her cries only after I rubbed her cheek.
I remember my big brother as the one and only person in the world that I hate.
I remember my little brother that I never got to see through puberty, the one person to live with my insanity and candidness every day and still remain my best friend.
I remember my mother, finally giving me reasons to believe she was proud of me and loved me, appealing against my dismissal from school, fighting for my life on my behalf.
I remember my grandmother, calling me every day if I'm at Pasir Ris or out, never staying mad at me for long, still making me hot milo even when she is.
Another loom band bracelet in green, from a Heroine's sister, to represent the other friends made through the people above.
I remember Nura whenever I am writing a new blog post, because she never fails to consume my words. I remember her as one of the very few people who follows and understands my every thought, and every new post is like a letter I'm personally writing to her.
I remember Ariff and his passion for flight and the aviation industry, his will to live every single day despite knowing he only has few left. I remember the love I had for him that existed only as smoke and never a flame, clouds and never a plane.
I remember Elin for being the person I have wronged, who still forgave me, who was so excited for our new friendship. She'd ask how I was, listen to me ramble on, make effort to type out long texts of advice. As much as I am grateful for her, I'd sometimes wish I could be more like myself with her and not shy anymore.
I remember Para, who anonymously asked how I was when he saw my depressing tweets, even gaining guts later on to admit it was him, and still occasionally asked how I was.
I remember Huda and Atiqah, Farizah's poly friends who let me study with them, taught me engineering Maths and gave me cookies to munch on whilst so, even making me laugh with their random stories.
I remember Aqilah and Aliff, the laughs we had at Aqilah's house, the time we'd gone to catch Lucy and taken a stroll down the city. I should have loosened up a little with Aqilah, being the same age as her, and I should have diverted the attention to Aliff, seeing how sad he'd been that day.
I remember Athirah and her love for cats, the way she'd jump-scared me half to death and laughed her head off while I laid half-dead on the floor. I remember the way she held on to me at Halloween Horror Nights, hid behind me when a zombie scared her, making me feel like I had a younger sister.
I remember Zaim being so pleasantly surprised, impressed even, to know my fascination with trains, my love for reading and writing, how it'd flattered me; I remember Fir, for his constant singing in the background that always made me laugh whenever I was talking to his cousin through the phone.
And around my neck, is a red dogtag, dangling off a chain from my wind, to represent what I will always fight for, what I will always love, what will always be home.
I remember Pasir Ris, its constant changing alongside my own growing older. Every inch of it that's been memorised, every change it's gone and going through; like a sibling that is growing up together with you.
I remember Paya Lebar, the one thing I want that I never did have, its ground being a shelter to my past and future, for I have chosen it as my real home.
I remember passion, the only strength I ever had. My books, my metaphors, my dreams, my flaws; the things that push me apart from other people are what pull me together.
I remember life as my lover. I'd fallen in love with the view outside the window, the moon that followed me where I go, the wind that kept messing up my hair. I'd fallen in love with holding my chin up high, with walking on despite being so tired, with giving all I have to somebody who doesn't deserve it. I remember life as the one place where I'd fallen in love with everything and everyone.
____
I dare not live without pain as much as it's lonely to not be cared for.
I am in love with the idea of being alive, all of its flaws.
I am 19 and young, and I'd plunge myself down a waterfall despite my fear of the deep blue, for I wish to remain reckless with the love that is life.
____
***Initially edited this to the original version of Wonderland by Taylor Swift, but of course it got copyrighted, so I changed the audio to a cover by At Sunset.***
When the love of my life left me at the beginning of the year, I'd followed my broken heart down the rabbit hole, and stumbled upon the Wonderland that is 2014.
Sounds cheesy, I know hah, but yes that's how the year has turned out. I've met so many new friends, went on so many fun outings.
Okay the first half of the video focuses on my love for the roads that was borne of my loneliness at the beginning of the year, and the later half on the laughs I've had with both old and new friends later on. I'm very blessed for everything that 2014 came to be, even though I'd felt like I was gonna die back in January.
Thursday, December 25, 2014
About religion again ugh
So I came home today, silently, without any greeting as usual. Not even the standard "peace be upon you" that is to be greeted at every Muslim house... I honestly can't remember the last time I said that, or even the reply.
My dad asked: "Why do you never give your salaam?" to which I kept quiet to, because I had too much to say in answer. Sometimes a person stays the quietest when she has the most to say after all.
He came into my room later, asking: "Do you have a lot of Chinese friends?" I wasn't sure how to answer, truth be told, because I knew why he was asking. I really only have 4 close friends who are Chinese, the 3 girls from my secondary school clique, and 1 from poly which is Shihui.
Most of my friends, as of 2014 anyway, are Malay. Muslims. Does it make any difference to my views on religion? NOPE.
I find it irrelevant for him to have asked me such a question... It's got nothing to do with the amount of Chinese friends I have, or friends from different religions. Parents' constant mistake: whenever something goes wrong with their child, they blame company, even though most of the time it's a thing borne of solitude.
Some time ago, I made a pact to myself that I'd decide on my 20th birthday if I'd like to try repenting again, or be fully atheist. I've been leaning against the latter, especially after many events and thoughts of the past year.
I keep saying this, but: religion tears people apart, be it from one another, or from themselves. Difference of religion make people hate each other, think themselves highly, better than others, things like that. Those cliche quotes of how people with tattoos are always nicer than those who go to church blahblahblah, I find it true in many ways.
Even my own parents aren't spared from this judgement of mine... They don't pray and never really raised us that way, and yet they tell me to be a better Muslim yadda yadda. At least my mom took me out of religious classes at the end of primary school, and I'm glad she did, because it was a way of letting me choose my own views.
Still, I judge my mom heavily for the way she associates herself with religion. She wears a headscarf but she doesn't act it out. She's a powerful woman in her own way, but I don't think she should wear it just because she feels disrespected for not wearing it at the age of 50. I have to admit I'm not entirely proud of her starting to wear it because of how she really is.
Sometimes I think I believe in the devil more than in God. Main reason: if dreams are the devil's playground, then wow that means the devil has been there for me more than God ever has.
The wind's argument to this: "Yeah it's the devil's playground, but the devil was made from God." which made me wonder, as silly and stupid as it sounds, what if God was made from the devil instead, created to divide everyone, to inflict pride and conflict? I sound so stupid saying this but hey.
If people can believe in a God they can't even see, then why can't I believe in the devil more, considering the fact that I've been supported by him every night in my dreams?
What's more, I kinda support things that are against my religion. Things like feminism, because I was told in Islam, women are always second to men, things like LGBT, because relationships with the same sex are prohibited.
And if you think about it, sometimes when you pray to God, you're technically just praying to Him to simply undo the things that He himself has done. Just my thoughts okay?
My dad asked: "Why do you never give your salaam?" to which I kept quiet to, because I had too much to say in answer. Sometimes a person stays the quietest when she has the most to say after all.
He came into my room later, asking: "Do you have a lot of Chinese friends?" I wasn't sure how to answer, truth be told, because I knew why he was asking. I really only have 4 close friends who are Chinese, the 3 girls from my secondary school clique, and 1 from poly which is Shihui.
Most of my friends, as of 2014 anyway, are Malay. Muslims. Does it make any difference to my views on religion? NOPE.
I find it irrelevant for him to have asked me such a question... It's got nothing to do with the amount of Chinese friends I have, or friends from different religions. Parents' constant mistake: whenever something goes wrong with their child, they blame company, even though most of the time it's a thing borne of solitude.
Some time ago, I made a pact to myself that I'd decide on my 20th birthday if I'd like to try repenting again, or be fully atheist. I've been leaning against the latter, especially after many events and thoughts of the past year.
I keep saying this, but: religion tears people apart, be it from one another, or from themselves. Difference of religion make people hate each other, think themselves highly, better than others, things like that. Those cliche quotes of how people with tattoos are always nicer than those who go to church blahblahblah, I find it true in many ways.
Even my own parents aren't spared from this judgement of mine... They don't pray and never really raised us that way, and yet they tell me to be a better Muslim yadda yadda. At least my mom took me out of religious classes at the end of primary school, and I'm glad she did, because it was a way of letting me choose my own views.
Still, I judge my mom heavily for the way she associates herself with religion. She wears a headscarf but she doesn't act it out. She's a powerful woman in her own way, but I don't think she should wear it just because she feels disrespected for not wearing it at the age of 50. I have to admit I'm not entirely proud of her starting to wear it because of how she really is.
Sometimes I think I believe in the devil more than in God. Main reason: if dreams are the devil's playground, then wow that means the devil has been there for me more than God ever has.
The wind's argument to this: "Yeah it's the devil's playground, but the devil was made from God." which made me wonder, as silly and stupid as it sounds, what if God was made from the devil instead, created to divide everyone, to inflict pride and conflict? I sound so stupid saying this but hey.
If people can believe in a God they can't even see, then why can't I believe in the devil more, considering the fact that I've been supported by him every night in my dreams?
What's more, I kinda support things that are against my religion. Things like feminism, because I was told in Islam, women are always second to men, things like LGBT, because relationships with the same sex are prohibited.
And if you think about it, sometimes when you pray to God, you're technically just praying to Him to simply undo the things that He himself has done. Just my thoughts okay?
So many things to say about this... Just one simple exchange of words with my dad can spark all these rants. But yeah, the points I'd wanted to prove: 1. My views on religion has got nothing to do with the friends I have. 2. I believe in the devil and in demons more than in God.
Saturday, December 13, 2014
Stop giving it all to me
I think people are selfish with everything they have except for one thing: the blame. They are more than obliged to give you all the blame they have, selfless enough to save none for themselves.
I read this saying once, something that went along the lines of: "When the leaf falls, do you blame it for not holding on, the tree for letting it go, or the wind for blowing it off?"
When something happens, I doubt there's any party entirely innocent. When someone commits suicide, you don't just blame them for not being strong enough. You'd blame the bully for tormenting them, you'd blame the people who stood by watching, not doing anything to help.
No one is spared the blame; there's more than enough to go around, so go ahead and take some. You deserve it anyway.
I hate how people would say it's my fault for making the bad decisions. I'm not saying I am not wrong, I never once said that. But I can't take all the blame. So would you just stop giving it all to me? I have plenty, I accept my share, but that does not mean I will take others'.
You can blame the ghost, for he was the one who pulled all the strings. He was the one who created such a situation by coming to me first, and you can even blame him for something stupid like making me like him after he came knocking on my door.
You can blame the wind, for he was the one who broke my heart for the third time, rendering me vulnerable enough to be taken advantage of by the ghost. People do the stupidest things when they're upset, so I think it's perfectly fine to blame the one who caused that sadness.
You can blame the flower too, for he was the one who kept all the hope in him. Whether or not what he said was true; if he had said something at that period, I would have clung on to that tiny spark of hope, and none of this would have happened because I'd have stayed where I am.
The possibilities are endless. You can blame anyone, whether they are in the game or the sidelines.
For the past month, the entire responsibility of all this has been dumped on me, and it's tiring the hell out of me. Once again I say, because some people like the river never understand this no matter how many times I say it: I'm not saying I am not wrong. I am very aware I'm in the wrong. I just plead that you stop giving me all that blame.
I'm shouldering the weight of the blame that is meant for the ghost, and it's not fair for he was the one who kicked the ball rolling in the first place. Maybe it was wrong of me to have continued pushing the ball, stupid of me to have put others before myself, even someone like him.
But everyone is making it seem so stupid to have liked someone who talked to you first.
Everyone is making it seem so difficult to just take a slice of this blame.
Everyone is making it seem so unforgivably wrong to make these humanly mistakes.
I've been taking all the hits from as far back as when it all began, and I'm honestly proud at how long I've lasted, how many times I stood back up after crumbling, but. Just. Stop giving it all to me.
I read this saying once, something that went along the lines of: "When the leaf falls, do you blame it for not holding on, the tree for letting it go, or the wind for blowing it off?"
When something happens, I doubt there's any party entirely innocent. When someone commits suicide, you don't just blame them for not being strong enough. You'd blame the bully for tormenting them, you'd blame the people who stood by watching, not doing anything to help.
No one is spared the blame; there's more than enough to go around, so go ahead and take some. You deserve it anyway.
I hate how people would say it's my fault for making the bad decisions. I'm not saying I am not wrong, I never once said that. But I can't take all the blame. So would you just stop giving it all to me? I have plenty, I accept my share, but that does not mean I will take others'.
You can blame the ghost, for he was the one who pulled all the strings. He was the one who created such a situation by coming to me first, and you can even blame him for something stupid like making me like him after he came knocking on my door.
You can blame the wind, for he was the one who broke my heart for the third time, rendering me vulnerable enough to be taken advantage of by the ghost. People do the stupidest things when they're upset, so I think it's perfectly fine to blame the one who caused that sadness.
You can blame the flower too, for he was the one who kept all the hope in him. Whether or not what he said was true; if he had said something at that period, I would have clung on to that tiny spark of hope, and none of this would have happened because I'd have stayed where I am.
The possibilities are endless. You can blame anyone, whether they are in the game or the sidelines.
For the past month, the entire responsibility of all this has been dumped on me, and it's tiring the hell out of me. Once again I say, because some people like the river never understand this no matter how many times I say it: I'm not saying I am not wrong. I am very aware I'm in the wrong. I just plead that you stop giving me all that blame.
I'm shouldering the weight of the blame that is meant for the ghost, and it's not fair for he was the one who kicked the ball rolling in the first place. Maybe it was wrong of me to have continued pushing the ball, stupid of me to have put others before myself, even someone like him.
But everyone is making it seem so stupid to have liked someone who talked to you first.
Everyone is making it seem so difficult to just take a slice of this blame.
Everyone is making it seem so unforgivably wrong to make these humanly mistakes.
I've been taking all the hits from as far back as when it all began, and I'm honestly proud at how long I've lasted, how many times I stood back up after crumbling, but. Just. Stop giving it all to me.
Wednesday, December 10, 2014
Love and marriage and jodoh wow
Brace yourself, I'm gonna talk about love now. I've always looked for love, always writing my love stories, but I've never really thought hard about it. Until now anyways. I've been brainwashed with marriage ever since I watched my big brother happily settle down with my beloved sister-in-law.
You can't deny that love with a significant other is still the love you desire most. Even with all your family, friends, passion; having someone special, someone existing just to hold your hand, is the best kind of love. It's not desperation on my part... Maybe I just feel this way earlier than most people do.
Life isn't meant to be lived alone, really. Even if you spent your entire life so far single, once you marry someone, bam, they're with you til death. Your roads are with that person, never on your own again (provided that you both love each other that much of course).
I wish to settle down at age 25, just like my parents. At first it was because I thought it was cool to turn 50 in the same year of your 25th wedding anniversary, but now that I think about it, it's just the right age to marry. I've no desire to go university straight after poly, so it's the best option for me.
I'm 19 now, a hair's breath away from 20 at the rate time has been going. My parents met at their workplace, and if I'm not wrong they were in a relationship for only 2 years before they got married.
In my opinion, I'd like to have been with my future husband longer than that. Marrying someone you've been with for 5 years? I don't know about you, but that sounds more appealing than settling down with someone just a year after you got together.
I think it's normal for one to feel like they've found their soulmate, especially when they're at a certain age. For my case, the word 'jodoh' is stronger, and yes it's surprising I believe in this even though I'm not religious.
Honestly I don't know what are the factors that would contribute to the fact that two people were literally made for each other. Is it how you still think of each other 6 months after breaking up? Is it how you always cross paths with each other's lives no matter what? Is it based on feelings or just fate, I have no idea.
I have an inkling on who my soulmate might be, and the things he'd said in July and November have helped me realise I'm not the only one who thought of this. It's crazy. I sound crazy now, but......... it's crazy.
Back in secondary school, there'd been a boy who kept coming back into my life too. But now, me being 19, it seems silly as heck to have thought of him as a soulmate just because of how he kept coming back. Yet here I am doing the same analysis with this other boy. He could mean nothing to me when I'm 25, and yet...
Yeah. It's crazy. Love is being crazy. Love will always be crazy.
You can't deny that love with a significant other is still the love you desire most. Even with all your family, friends, passion; having someone special, someone existing just to hold your hand, is the best kind of love. It's not desperation on my part... Maybe I just feel this way earlier than most people do.
Life isn't meant to be lived alone, really. Even if you spent your entire life so far single, once you marry someone, bam, they're with you til death. Your roads are with that person, never on your own again (provided that you both love each other that much of course).
I wish to settle down at age 25, just like my parents. At first it was because I thought it was cool to turn 50 in the same year of your 25th wedding anniversary, but now that I think about it, it's just the right age to marry. I've no desire to go university straight after poly, so it's the best option for me.
I'm 19 now, a hair's breath away from 20 at the rate time has been going. My parents met at their workplace, and if I'm not wrong they were in a relationship for only 2 years before they got married.
In my opinion, I'd like to have been with my future husband longer than that. Marrying someone you've been with for 5 years? I don't know about you, but that sounds more appealing than settling down with someone just a year after you got together.
I think it's normal for one to feel like they've found their soulmate, especially when they're at a certain age. For my case, the word 'jodoh' is stronger, and yes it's surprising I believe in this even though I'm not religious.
Honestly I don't know what are the factors that would contribute to the fact that two people were literally made for each other. Is it how you still think of each other 6 months after breaking up? Is it how you always cross paths with each other's lives no matter what? Is it based on feelings or just fate, I have no idea.
I have an inkling on who my soulmate might be, and the things he'd said in July and November have helped me realise I'm not the only one who thought of this. It's crazy. I sound crazy now, but......... it's crazy.
Back in secondary school, there'd been a boy who kept coming back into my life too. But now, me being 19, it seems silly as heck to have thought of him as a soulmate just because of how he kept coming back. Yet here I am doing the same analysis with this other boy. He could mean nothing to me when I'm 25, and yet...
Yeah. It's crazy. Love is being crazy. Love will always be crazy.
Saturday, December 06, 2014
I blog because...
"Thank you, God, for this gift that is my writing. Thank you, God, for this space where I have all the power. Sorry though, God, because I think I'm about to fuck you over.
Then I become God the only place I can. On the page." - This Gorgeous Game
I blog because it is the only way I make things happen.
I blog because empty pages are the only place I can become my own god.
I blog because it makes all the crazy things that have been happening to me seem like a story.
I blog because I like having people read the words I put together.
I blog because sometimes people would rather not ask me straight about how I've been doing, so I give them words on this space for them to know.
I blog because there are people who are feeling, or laughing at my misery, and either way, at least they can relate to my emotions.
I blog because when I've been wronged, I wish to tell my side of the story, even if they still think I am the bad guy at the end of it.
I blog because it makes me think that I have forgiven the people who have hurt me or were putting all the blame on me for their own hurt.
I blog because it is my way of sharing my thoughts and feelings with the wind, who has come and gone, now in the process of the latter, and I wish more than anything to talk to him.
I blog because he has kept his promise of reading my every post, and I am grateful for that.
I blog because I have made many friends through it, even though our conversations are technically just them listening to all my words from the other side of this screen.
I blog because it makes me feel like there is a constant audience reading, a train of support following me wherever I go, knowing all that is happening to me.
I blog because sometimes when you don't feel like talking, but you want people to know how you feel, you can just fill your thoughts into these empty pages that are easily accessible.
I blog because I get all kinds of reactions from people: admiration, pity, judgement, dislike, and it makes me feel alive, like I'm somebody.
I blog because writing all of this down makes it seem like the pain is over, even when it's not.
I blog because someday I will read these posts back and reminisce these memories, laugh at my past embarrassing moments, admire how my past self survived all that.
The list goes on.
Whenever I open a new post, it's always for me. I want to record down a dream I had, or stupid metaphors that mean a lot to me, or a memory of time spent with someone I like.
Once it's posted, it's for everyone. I want people to get all kinds of emotions through the words I just typed out for myself. Get freaked out by my weird dreams, confused about my metaphors trying to understand them, go awww about my gushing towards a boy.
I blog for myself and for the people around me, including myself in the future.
And that's why I've been leaning towards blogging more than writing in my personal diary. I love my page, Solitary Author; she's a wall I can paint on with anything I like, a tree I can build a treehouse on and see the world, a stage where I am the only one everyone is looking at, a photo album where I can see how I've grown, a daughter I will take care of forever the moment she is born.
She's like a ghost I've been talking to from the moment I started writing in a diary when I was 7. A ghost whose soul has followed me from notebook to notebook and now resides in my blog. Kinda cool to think of it that way, heh.
Then I become God the only place I can. On the page." - This Gorgeous Game
I blog because it is the only way I make things happen.
I blog because empty pages are the only place I can become my own god.
I blog because it makes all the crazy things that have been happening to me seem like a story.
I blog because I like having people read the words I put together.
I blog because sometimes people would rather not ask me straight about how I've been doing, so I give them words on this space for them to know.
I blog because there are people who are feeling, or laughing at my misery, and either way, at least they can relate to my emotions.
I blog because when I've been wronged, I wish to tell my side of the story, even if they still think I am the bad guy at the end of it.
I blog because it makes me think that I have forgiven the people who have hurt me or were putting all the blame on me for their own hurt.
I blog because it is my way of sharing my thoughts and feelings with the wind, who has come and gone, now in the process of the latter, and I wish more than anything to talk to him.
I blog because he has kept his promise of reading my every post, and I am grateful for that.
I blog because I have made many friends through it, even though our conversations are technically just them listening to all my words from the other side of this screen.
I blog because it makes me feel like there is a constant audience reading, a train of support following me wherever I go, knowing all that is happening to me.
I blog because sometimes when you don't feel like talking, but you want people to know how you feel, you can just fill your thoughts into these empty pages that are easily accessible.
I blog because I get all kinds of reactions from people: admiration, pity, judgement, dislike, and it makes me feel alive, like I'm somebody.
I blog because writing all of this down makes it seem like the pain is over, even when it's not.
I blog because someday I will read these posts back and reminisce these memories, laugh at my past embarrassing moments, admire how my past self survived all that.
The list goes on.
Whenever I open a new post, it's always for me. I want to record down a dream I had, or stupid metaphors that mean a lot to me, or a memory of time spent with someone I like.
Once it's posted, it's for everyone. I want people to get all kinds of emotions through the words I just typed out for myself. Get freaked out by my weird dreams, confused about my metaphors trying to understand them, go awww about my gushing towards a boy.
I blog for myself and for the people around me, including myself in the future.
And that's why I've been leaning towards blogging more than writing in my personal diary. I love my page, Solitary Author; she's a wall I can paint on with anything I like, a tree I can build a treehouse on and see the world, a stage where I am the only one everyone is looking at, a photo album where I can see how I've grown, a daughter I will take care of forever the moment she is born.
She's like a ghost I've been talking to from the moment I started writing in a diary when I was 7. A ghost whose soul has followed me from notebook to notebook and now resides in my blog. Kinda cool to think of it that way, heh.
Thursday, December 04, 2014
Interesting people at the animal clinic
I visited my youngest cat at the hospital again today. It's just a little clinic at Kembangan where sick dogs and cats go.
When I came on Monday, he was a sad little thing, a cone wrapped around his head and dirt all over his mouth. He'd refused to eat and he didn't move much, not even to struggle when being manhandled. Never made a sound either.
There were other animals there too, mostly cats in fact. One had been admitted for having fits, this sad little orange and black local cat. Another was abandoned; being 19 years old, the owners decided to give up taking care of it and have passed that responsibility on to the vets.
While we were fussing over my cat, a couple came in to admit their cat as well. A Malay lady with an Angmoh husband and this fluffy Ragdoll cat. What a combination.
Surprisingly the Malay lady wasn't so stuck-up, and she talked to my aunt and I about all kinds of cat things. She told me about how her cat would just limp into your arms if you carried him; that's what the breed would do anyway. And her kitty is beautiful, those pretty boy kind.
I visited again today, and my kitty has made a vast improvement since then. My aunt and I arrived to see him so excitedly mewing the moment he saw us. He gobbled down his food and couldn't sit still, it was enlightening to see him so well again!
My youngest cat doesn't trust people so easily, and at home whenever he hears a stranger's voice he'd run and hide, not coming out til 2 hours later. But I could see how he's well acquainted with the vet already, how he actually mewed to her to carry him. It felt so nice to see him actually getting along with other humans (':
This man came in later, ordering some kind of vaccine stuff. While his orders were being processed by the vets he came over and said a hi to me as well as a rub on my kitty's head and a "Hey there, buddy."
He talked to us about a cat abuser at Beach Road, this old man who has killed more than 50 cats. Shocking, I know. He knew the killer, but the authorities wouldn't do anything about it because there wasn't enough evidence.
Thus, his cause called Save Beach Road Cats. I thought it was so admirable of him, to be standing up against this cat killer because even SPCA wouldn't do anything about it.
I'd met 3 new friends, all being breeds of cats I'd seldom seen in person. A Maine Coon who stared at me with huge green eyes; a Bengal cat who rolled around and locked my hand in both her paws; a Persian who stuck her paws out at me to pet her with that grouchy face of hers.
Later on, my aunt told me about the two nurses at the vet, these 2 girls from the Phillipines. Back home, they could qualify to be doctors, but they didn't get that kind of job here in Singapore.
But they didn't mind being just vets, their exact words being: "It's alright, a life is still a life." and they'd grown to be so passionate about these sick and abandoned animals that come onto their doorsteps every day.
I've met so many interesting people on just two visits. I find it amazing how a simple thing like love for a certain animal could bring people together.
Wednesday, December 03, 2014
The 3 players in the game of life
I used to be a Luke, a shy mimosa who curls up when touched.
I used to be someone who would look out the window to the outside world but not actually stepping out.
Too afraid to take chances, too afraid to admit I like something.
Keeping it to myself or going around it quietly without wanting anyone to see, even if I'm good at it.
Covering up my feelings by saying stupid stuff half the time.
Disappearing and appearing, like how the moon is sometimes full and sometimes new.
I am now a Leila, a flame with all the hope in the world.
I am someone with a destination but relishing the moments of the journey.
Entering and exiting the lives of many different people, making negative and positive impacts.
Giving all my time and effort for someone who isn't going to be a permanent comrade.
Inspiring others and ruining others' lives just as much, receiving happiness and anger.
Getting lost in order to find what I'm looking for.
When I die, I wish to be a Lauren, a name that lingers.
I wish to be someone who is loved by those who matters.
A tune that plays in people's heads, filling them with regret for the unexpected loss.
Words that spill out in sadness and grief, inflicting the magic of letting go.
A person that not everyone knows even exists but is remembered by those who do.
A song that would mean a lot only to those who truly understand it.
Luke is a friend who keeps staying rooted where he is.
Leila is a character in a road trip book, driving endlessly and still looking for her purpose.
Lauren is a song about a girl who died in a car crash.
Even though they have nothing in common, 3 completely different people far apart from each other, I can't help but link them this way. Like they're the perfect examples of the stages of life. And yes, everyone is a Leila right now, at least until they die.
I really need to find something to do other than coming up with these far-fetched philosophies, oh my god.
[Leila is from Let's Get Lost by Adi Alsaid; the song title is Lauren's Song by Breathe Carolina.]
I used to be someone who would look out the window to the outside world but not actually stepping out.
Too afraid to take chances, too afraid to admit I like something.
Keeping it to myself or going around it quietly without wanting anyone to see, even if I'm good at it.
Covering up my feelings by saying stupid stuff half the time.
Disappearing and appearing, like how the moon is sometimes full and sometimes new.
I am now a Leila, a flame with all the hope in the world.
I am someone with a destination but relishing the moments of the journey.
Entering and exiting the lives of many different people, making negative and positive impacts.
Giving all my time and effort for someone who isn't going to be a permanent comrade.
Inspiring others and ruining others' lives just as much, receiving happiness and anger.
Getting lost in order to find what I'm looking for.
When I die, I wish to be a Lauren, a name that lingers.
I wish to be someone who is loved by those who matters.
A tune that plays in people's heads, filling them with regret for the unexpected loss.
Words that spill out in sadness and grief, inflicting the magic of letting go.
A person that not everyone knows even exists but is remembered by those who do.
A song that would mean a lot only to those who truly understand it.
____
Leila is a character in a road trip book, driving endlessly and still looking for her purpose.
Lauren is a song about a girl who died in a car crash.
Even though they have nothing in common, 3 completely different people far apart from each other, I can't help but link them this way. Like they're the perfect examples of the stages of life. And yes, everyone is a Leila right now, at least until they die.
I really need to find something to do other than coming up with these far-fetched philosophies, oh my god.
[Leila is from Let's Get Lost by Adi Alsaid; the song title is Lauren's Song by Breathe Carolina.]
Tuesday, December 02, 2014
Conversation with a reflection
After years of being in each other's heads, we finally meet.
...Why aren't you looking at me? I'm right here. You've been so curious as to how I look like but now you refuse to even stand up.
As cliche as it sounds, you're stronger than this. Can you stand up, girl?
You're not even 20 yet and you're already so tired. You've fallen in love with the idea of being alive, and yet here you are refusing to even live up that love.
Such a shame, isn't it? There you were, giving all the love and trust that you had, to everyone you met, whether or not they deserved it. You forgot to save any for yourself, of course you're so tired out right now.
You're a strong person but that doesn't mean you won't break. Stop being so selfless, letting everyone have what you have and refusing to take anything of theirs. Didn't you say, "If I give you a piece of me, and you give me a piece of you, then nobody is really broken"? You're leading yourself to your own falling apart.
...Still refusing to stand up?
...You were right. Sometimes the best way to move on is to go back to where you came from. Just like how you returned to your parents to move on from your precious wind.
Right now, you need to talk to your old friends. You've realised how cruel the people who you thought to be your friends were; they didn't return your love, they made you out to be the bad guy... Go back to your old friends.
They may be busy, but it's worth a shot. Send a text asking how they are, call them up asking for a lunch or something. Anyone. Anyone other than the 'friends' you have loved the past 4 months.
Stand up, girl.
She grabs my wrist.
Stand up and look at me.
She holds my chin and makes me face her. I close my eyes.
You're a fucking tyrant and you're gonna get through this.
I let out a cruel laugh. That's what I've been telling myself.
That's what I've been telling you.
Go back to where you came from. I'd return as far back as my mother's womb if I could, start all over from my very first breath. But you can't do that. You move forward from difficult times by going back, and you go back to your precious moments by moving forward.
You're not alone in this. Not ever. See how you've laughed so much with your mom and aunt the past week even with all the problems within your family. See how you've enjoyed your 5-star view at Ion Sky with the love of your life even with half of another shithead in your heart.
And most of all see how you've continued loving everything around you, the sky and the trees and the roads, even after all the shit everyone's put you through.
You're gonna get over this. You're gonna be an amazing daughter, aunt, wife, mother. Heck you're already an amazing person if you'd just stop giving so much of your flame away to others. Now stand the fuck up.
She gives my wrist a hard grip and pulls me, forcing me onto my feet.
I jerk awake. It's 6 in the morning. The mysterious bruise I've had on my wrist the past 2 weeks has faded from an ugly purple to a murky yellow.
...Why aren't you looking at me? I'm right here. You've been so curious as to how I look like but now you refuse to even stand up.
As cliche as it sounds, you're stronger than this. Can you stand up, girl?
You're not even 20 yet and you're already so tired. You've fallen in love with the idea of being alive, and yet here you are refusing to even live up that love.
Such a shame, isn't it? There you were, giving all the love and trust that you had, to everyone you met, whether or not they deserved it. You forgot to save any for yourself, of course you're so tired out right now.
You're a strong person but that doesn't mean you won't break. Stop being so selfless, letting everyone have what you have and refusing to take anything of theirs. Didn't you say, "If I give you a piece of me, and you give me a piece of you, then nobody is really broken"? You're leading yourself to your own falling apart.
...Still refusing to stand up?
...You were right. Sometimes the best way to move on is to go back to where you came from. Just like how you returned to your parents to move on from your precious wind.
Right now, you need to talk to your old friends. You've realised how cruel the people who you thought to be your friends were; they didn't return your love, they made you out to be the bad guy... Go back to your old friends.
They may be busy, but it's worth a shot. Send a text asking how they are, call them up asking for a lunch or something. Anyone. Anyone other than the 'friends' you have loved the past 4 months.
Stand up, girl.
She grabs my wrist.
Stand up and look at me.
She holds my chin and makes me face her. I close my eyes.
You're a fucking tyrant and you're gonna get through this.
I let out a cruel laugh. That's what I've been telling myself.
That's what I've been telling you.
Go back to where you came from. I'd return as far back as my mother's womb if I could, start all over from my very first breath. But you can't do that. You move forward from difficult times by going back, and you go back to your precious moments by moving forward.
You're not alone in this. Not ever. See how you've laughed so much with your mom and aunt the past week even with all the problems within your family. See how you've enjoyed your 5-star view at Ion Sky with the love of your life even with half of another shithead in your heart.
And most of all see how you've continued loving everything around you, the sky and the trees and the roads, even after all the shit everyone's put you through.
You're gonna get over this. You're gonna be an amazing daughter, aunt, wife, mother. Heck you're already an amazing person if you'd just stop giving so much of your flame away to others. Now stand the fuck up.
She gives my wrist a hard grip and pulls me, forcing me onto my feet.
I jerk awake. It's 6 in the morning. The mysterious bruise I've had on my wrist the past 2 weeks has faded from an ugly purple to a murky yellow.
Monday, December 01, 2014
Pride without an audience
It's raining non-stop and it intensifies my misery. The people around me are expressionless, as if the presence of rain is nothing to them. Maybe they are used to it, learnt to live alongside the sky's tears.
I also seem to be the only one getting bothered by the cold, decked out in my thickest cardigan and a beanie, while everyone else has sleeves rolled up and hair tied in ponytails.
Someone has an umbrella propped up above me, protecting me from the rain. I can't see who this person is because everytime I try to see, I am pushed on the shoulder to face forward.
I try again to see who this stranger is, and this time he or she doesn't make me look forward anymore. Instead, he simply takes away the umbrella and walks away. He shields himself from my view with his umbrella, and I don't chase him. I've pushed away the one act of kindness in this dampness.
I continue walking in the rain, everyone else around me still with their emotionless faces, dripping wet with raindrops or silent tears, I do not know.
My sneaker splashes against a puddle. I look down and kick the water around with the foot of my sneaker, and continue on ahead.
Another puddle, and this time the water reaches my ankle. My sneakers and socks are uncomfortably soaked, so I remove them. I continue on ahead, barefoot.
The rain keeps coming, until water is to my knees.
I look around to see everyone with the same expressionless faces. I hide in the water and remove my jeans. I keep walking, the dirt of the rainwater tickling my exposed thighs.
The rainwater now covers me to my neck. I remove my cardigan and t-shirt, and I am completely naked, only the dirt and grime of the rainwater covering me.
I am below the surface now. The water pushes me forward, and I allow it, letting myself float wherever it wants to take me.
Everyone else continues walking even underwater. I am the only one floating, and I am not even ashamed of having every inch of my skin exposed like this.
Because nobody is watching.
Here I am, getting along with my fear, and nobody is watching. I am the only one floating while everyone continues walking with vacant eyes.
I wake up to the pitter-patter of the rain against the window.
I also seem to be the only one getting bothered by the cold, decked out in my thickest cardigan and a beanie, while everyone else has sleeves rolled up and hair tied in ponytails.
Someone has an umbrella propped up above me, protecting me from the rain. I can't see who this person is because everytime I try to see, I am pushed on the shoulder to face forward.
I try again to see who this stranger is, and this time he or she doesn't make me look forward anymore. Instead, he simply takes away the umbrella and walks away. He shields himself from my view with his umbrella, and I don't chase him. I've pushed away the one act of kindness in this dampness.
I continue walking in the rain, everyone else around me still with their emotionless faces, dripping wet with raindrops or silent tears, I do not know.
My sneaker splashes against a puddle. I look down and kick the water around with the foot of my sneaker, and continue on ahead.
Another puddle, and this time the water reaches my ankle. My sneakers and socks are uncomfortably soaked, so I remove them. I continue on ahead, barefoot.
The rain keeps coming, until water is to my knees.
I look around to see everyone with the same expressionless faces. I hide in the water and remove my jeans. I keep walking, the dirt of the rainwater tickling my exposed thighs.
The rainwater now covers me to my neck. I remove my cardigan and t-shirt, and I am completely naked, only the dirt and grime of the rainwater covering me.
I am below the surface now. The water pushes me forward, and I allow it, letting myself float wherever it wants to take me.
Everyone else continues walking even underwater. I am the only one floating, and I am not even ashamed of having every inch of my skin exposed like this.
Because nobody is watching.
Here I am, getting along with my fear, and nobody is watching. I am the only one floating while everyone continues walking with vacant eyes.
____
Sunday, November 30, 2014
Please don't touch my family
My grandfather had a fall. I rushed straight to Changi General Hospital after school, where he was still at A&E. My mom was already there, and she stuck an "A&E Visitor" sticker onto my shirt. All kinds of thoughts ran through my mind, from "he gave me my name" to "why are You doing this to me?"
My dad was there, and my grandfather was fine apart from the constant shivering. He's 84 years old, but I won't accept it if he goes too soon. At the moment, and maybe even til now, I hated God for giving our family a new member and then threatening the life of another.
On the same day, my niece was sent to the KK Hospital, 2 days after she was sent home. She had some problems with her health, I don't know how to explain it really... I didn't ask what was wrong with her, I just had to see her.
We weren't allowed to see her yet, not until yesterday. Even that was just for a few minutes of my mom holding her, all of us making a fuss of her mouth, me rubbing her cheek. She didn't even have her name yet and already a problem had came to. I have so much to say to her even though she's only a week old.
Today, after a night at the hospital by my grandfather's side, I got home at Pasir Ris to take a nap. I awoke to my grandmother calling me, telling me one of our cats had been sent to the hospital.
I was getting sick of that word. Hospital. I kept asking God why's He sending everyone there.
Our youngest kitty has a problem with his buah pinggang, and also has kencing manis. Such human problems, It explained why he'd been going to his litterbox so much recently.
My aunt sent me a picture of him, looking so miserable with a cone around his neck and his lower body shaved of all his fur. A tub filled with blood sat at his butt, and I remembered Grandma mentioning how he'd peed a lot of blood.
So much chaos in a week.
It's too much.
Dear God, can You not touch my family anymore?
Be it the niece who has changed my brother's life,
the grandfather who gave me my name,
the cat who always cried for my attention
please don't touch my family anymore.
I'd go through all the pain and stress of my own problems again and again,
be it school or friendships or love
You can take my life too
if You would just leave my family alone.
Tuesday, November 25, 2014
Letter to my niece
I didn't welcome you into my life even before I met you.
I didn't want you in the world even before you set foot into it.
Knowing of your existence brought tears to my mom's eyes. I remember that day, how my bedroom door had slammed shut from the outside. How I'd opened it in confusion, only to be yelled at by my parents and brother from the couches, telling me to shut back the door.
The adults never sat at those sofas. I knew straight there was something wrong. I didn't know what, and I was upset at my parents for not trusting me enough to tell me, for treating me like a kid not worthy of this secret.
Later, my mom came into my room and told me they had some emergency to attend to. It was 9 at night, and all three of them went out without another word.
My mother, when she said that, her eyes were red with remnants of her tears, but she put on a smile. She tried to be strong, and I knew straight she was Steel-Type, because she had an armour around her, an armour nobody could ever destroy.
Nobody told me exactly what was going on, but I eventually found out about you. I was angry and disappointed with my brother at the same time; he couldn't even take care of himself, and he wants to have his own family. I hated how he neglected the family he already had for the one that isn't even his yet.
I shed endless tears the night I knew about you. It wasn't my emotion to own, because I wasn't even close to him, but the hype was all too overwhelming.
When I knew you were gonna be a girl, it just made things worse. My brother now was gonna have all the important ladies in his life: a mother, a wife, and a daughter. He wouldn't need a sister. Not a sister like me, who is worlds apart from him, who is born to sit in the shadows, holding over him the spotlight. It was pointless to try because he already had your mother and you.
Seeing your mother on her wedding day scared me, to be honest. I kept getting the impression that she was gonna be an evil sister-in-law or something. But having her in my family changed the way I see her. Watching her with kids, especially her little siblings, softened me a little, ensured me she was gonna treat me the same, even though I'm 19.
Over time, the piece of my heart that I gave her grew and grew, while my brother's piece has shrunk into a tiny little one over the years. It didn't change the fact that after many years of hating his girlfriends on status, I actually started to love his wife.
My mother did mention to me about how she wouldn't be surprised if I were closer to my sister-in-law than my own blood brother. It's just love being strange.
When I heard you have arrived in this world, I was so happy I cried, and then I straightway made my way to the hospital to see you. I was shaking out of fear, I was skipping in my step out of excitement. It was just too overwhelming, your existence.
I remembered my mom telling me about how one of her many siblings-in-law had been the only one to have kissed me and my brothers on the forehead when we were born. How she appreciated that simple gesture so much up til now.
I've kissed your little forehead thrice now, but I've not actually held you. I was so scared to even hold you because you looked so fragile. I felt I could break you with all my problems and emotions, like the slightest bit of weight would crush you.
You looked at me today, stopped crying when I rubbed the back of my hand against the bun of your cheek. I didn't know a newborn's pupils could be so big. I remembered how I read somewhere, about how one's pupils enlarge when looking at someone they love. I couldn't help feeling excited, feeling like your eyes were so big because you loved me.
For now, I don't have the courage to hold you for fear the weight in my soul crushes your fragile being. You're so precious, and right now you are the most wonderful thing in the world.
I find it hard to believe you are my niece. I look at you and I can't help wondering what it's like to have a person like me as your aunt. I hope I am worthy enough to be, and I hope you grow up to love my big brother and sister-in-law more than anything.
I didn't want you in the world even before you set foot into it.
Knowing of your existence brought tears to my mom's eyes. I remember that day, how my bedroom door had slammed shut from the outside. How I'd opened it in confusion, only to be yelled at by my parents and brother from the couches, telling me to shut back the door.
The adults never sat at those sofas. I knew straight there was something wrong. I didn't know what, and I was upset at my parents for not trusting me enough to tell me, for treating me like a kid not worthy of this secret.
Later, my mom came into my room and told me they had some emergency to attend to. It was 9 at night, and all three of them went out without another word.
My mother, when she said that, her eyes were red with remnants of her tears, but she put on a smile. She tried to be strong, and I knew straight she was Steel-Type, because she had an armour around her, an armour nobody could ever destroy.
Nobody told me exactly what was going on, but I eventually found out about you. I was angry and disappointed with my brother at the same time; he couldn't even take care of himself, and he wants to have his own family. I hated how he neglected the family he already had for the one that isn't even his yet.
I shed endless tears the night I knew about you. It wasn't my emotion to own, because I wasn't even close to him, but the hype was all too overwhelming.
When I knew you were gonna be a girl, it just made things worse. My brother now was gonna have all the important ladies in his life: a mother, a wife, and a daughter. He wouldn't need a sister. Not a sister like me, who is worlds apart from him, who is born to sit in the shadows, holding over him the spotlight. It was pointless to try because he already had your mother and you.
Seeing your mother on her wedding day scared me, to be honest. I kept getting the impression that she was gonna be an evil sister-in-law or something. But having her in my family changed the way I see her. Watching her with kids, especially her little siblings, softened me a little, ensured me she was gonna treat me the same, even though I'm 19.
Over time, the piece of my heart that I gave her grew and grew, while my brother's piece has shrunk into a tiny little one over the years. It didn't change the fact that after many years of hating his girlfriends on status, I actually started to love his wife.
My mother did mention to me about how she wouldn't be surprised if I were closer to my sister-in-law than my own blood brother. It's just love being strange.
When I heard you have arrived in this world, I was so happy I cried, and then I straightway made my way to the hospital to see you. I was shaking out of fear, I was skipping in my step out of excitement. It was just too overwhelming, your existence.
I remembered my mom telling me about how one of her many siblings-in-law had been the only one to have kissed me and my brothers on the forehead when we were born. How she appreciated that simple gesture so much up til now.
I've kissed your little forehead thrice now, but I've not actually held you. I was so scared to even hold you because you looked so fragile. I felt I could break you with all my problems and emotions, like the slightest bit of weight would crush you.
You looked at me today, stopped crying when I rubbed the back of my hand against the bun of your cheek. I didn't know a newborn's pupils could be so big. I remembered how I read somewhere, about how one's pupils enlarge when looking at someone they love. I couldn't help feeling excited, feeling like your eyes were so big because you loved me.
For now, I don't have the courage to hold you for fear the weight in my soul crushes your fragile being. You're so precious, and right now you are the most wonderful thing in the world.
I find it hard to believe you are my niece. I look at you and I can't help wondering what it's like to have a person like me as your aunt. I hope I am worthy enough to be, and I hope you grow up to love my big brother and sister-in-law more than anything.
Monday, November 24, 2014
Strange and beautiful sorrow
"Deep inside I know I want to keep this thing,
to stop calling it a 'thing' even.
But I know I can't, and it's a reminder of my mistake
the mistake of meeting you
of letting you get to me
of saying yes to your every need
of loving you.
It's a memento of you
times spent with you
and at this point I'd rather forget everything about you.
The look in the wind's eyes when he reminded me
of how he'd been faithful to me even when he left me
how I, on the other hand, have been fooling around
falling in 'love' more times than he could count
I wish to remain faithful to him even if he doesn't love me anymore
because there is half of someone else inside me now
I wish to love him more than anything.
Maybe I already did, but the way I executed it was all wrong
I loved him more than I loved myself
and that was why I'd rather let those things happen to me than watch him walk away.
I do not want him to love me now either
with half of someone else being part of me.
I wish to rid of this thing, even from my conscience
I wish to be cleaner than the air
I wish to be a flower again.
If there's one thing I regret after giving all my love to you,
it's the February 13th, 2013,
when I plucked the second last flower off the field.
He hasn't stopped spinning in chaos ever since.
I realised how much of a treasure he is
after all the times I enjoyed the sins with you.
The bruises on my wrist and the bite marks down my chest
At the very moment, I loved it
but staring at myself in the mirror after that
arguing with you everyday after that
getting hurt by you over little things after that
made me wish I was with the wind.
Even if we never kiss,
even if we only make love years down the road,
I wanted to be with him more than anything.
I want to be with him more than anything.
I missed him so much even before you were gone
and I'm admitting this now
I am not ashamed about my feelings, ever.
I'm glad I can write down all this
because if I were to say it out loud, I won't believe it's happening to me.
Writing makes me feel like it's just another story
just another piece of fiction created for the feels.
I want to throw this thing away
and at the same time I want to protect it with my everything
but I don't want it to grow into a person like you.
I wish I could keep it
but I don't want it
I'm done with myself, and I'm done with you,
and I'm certainly done with what we've created.
I've made my decision
and I know after this nobody would want me anymore
whether or not I keep it
especially not my precious wind.
I am in deep remorse but I'll keep living in place of its life.
My strange
and beautiful
sorrow."
to stop calling it a 'thing' even.
But I know I can't, and it's a reminder of my mistake
the mistake of meeting you
of letting you get to me
of saying yes to your every need
of loving you.
It's a memento of you
times spent with you
and at this point I'd rather forget everything about you.
The look in the wind's eyes when he reminded me
of how he'd been faithful to me even when he left me
how I, on the other hand, have been fooling around
falling in 'love' more times than he could count
I wish to remain faithful to him even if he doesn't love me anymore
because there is half of someone else inside me now
I wish to love him more than anything.
Maybe I already did, but the way I executed it was all wrong
I loved him more than I loved myself
and that was why I'd rather let those things happen to me than watch him walk away.
I do not want him to love me now either
with half of someone else being part of me.
I wish to rid of this thing, even from my conscience
I wish to be cleaner than the air
I wish to be a flower again.
If there's one thing I regret after giving all my love to you,
it's the February 13th, 2013,
when I plucked the second last flower off the field.
He hasn't stopped spinning in chaos ever since.
I realised how much of a treasure he is
after all the times I enjoyed the sins with you.
The bruises on my wrist and the bite marks down my chest
At the very moment, I loved it
but staring at myself in the mirror after that
arguing with you everyday after that
getting hurt by you over little things after that
made me wish I was with the wind.
Even if we never kiss,
even if we only make love years down the road,
I wanted to be with him more than anything.
I want to be with him more than anything.
I missed him so much even before you were gone
and I'm admitting this now
I am not ashamed about my feelings, ever.
I'm glad I can write down all this
because if I were to say it out loud, I won't believe it's happening to me.
Writing makes me feel like it's just another story
just another piece of fiction created for the feels.
I want to throw this thing away
and at the same time I want to protect it with my everything
but I don't want it to grow into a person like you.
I wish I could keep it
but I don't want it
I'm done with myself, and I'm done with you,
and I'm certainly done with what we've created.
I've made my decision
and I know after this nobody would want me anymore
whether or not I keep it
especially not my precious wind.
I am in deep remorse but I'll keep living in place of its life.
My strange
and beautiful
sorrow."
Sunday, November 23, 2014
Is this considered selfish?
The flower and the ghost, despite being worlds apart, have said the same thing: I need to be less selfless. I need to stop thinking of others before myself, stop giving my everything until I have nothing left for myself.
I honestly have no idea how to do that, but I think one way is by blogging a little about myself now. Close enough, since I've been writing about other people the past few days. I really don't know, this feels awkward.
Okay, here goes, things that make me stand out from others, make me weird, make me not like the 19-year-old girl I should be. Things that make me, me.
1. I am an ailurophile. I don't just love cats, I believe they are life. I can't imagine if cats never existed, and I've always found it cool how Egyptians worshipped them. How they'd surrendered in war when their opponents held cats up as shields.
When I catch sight of a stray cat, I'd definitely make my way to it and call out to it. I don't care if I'm running late or somebody is talking to me. Rude, I know, but cats over humans. And another thing about me, I handle cats way better than kids.
What's weird about this is, I'd talk to cats. My voice becomes high-pitched when I do, and I'd remove my earpiece, as if they'd answer back. As if I'd understand their meows as a language. You should see how different I am with a cat, and with a child. It's pretty amusing.
2. I do not like perfect things. Or neat things. I'm a Virgo, and apparently Virgos are neat freaks; I am living proof horoscopes are bullshit.
You should see my bedroom, a pigsty as I call it. It's not that bad, but it's horrible compared to the average girl's bedroom. My mom and grandma calls it tsunami because it looks like one just hit it. Even my big brother's room is neater, even before he got married. I just like having my room in a mess.
I can't stand seeing neatly arranged things, I'd feel the need to mess them up some way or another. It's like reverse OCD, but books are an exception. They're fine arranged on shelves, mostly because their spines are all different so it's not exactly perfect-looking.
3. I love the sun and its heat. I have no complains about it, even when it's at the highest. I love having it on my back, down my neck, on my arms. I'd walk paths that are exposed to the sun while everyone walks underneath the shelter just nearby.
I can't stand the rain; it makes me miserable and gives me mood swings. I get grumpy at the smallest sign of a dark cloud, and I also have metaphors in my head about the rain and the sun. I think people who hates the sun are pussies. It's almost the same as shunning someone for their exterior before knowing their personality.
4. I can't sing and I'm actually very proud of it. You can't imagine how much I love the fact that I can't sing, and hate the idea of me actually being able to.
I have no musical talent, which makes my poems useless because I'd be able to make songs out of them if I could. But it's okay, because my ability to write is enough for me. And that's another thing about me: I just can't imagine myself being able to dance, or good at sports, or create works of art. My affinity with words is more than enough.
That said, it doesn't change the fact that I will still sing my heart out randomly, especially if I'm already comfortable with you. I'll sound horrible but I'll make you laugh, and that'll make me happy.
5. I love taking buses and MRTs. The roads are like my home: if your room is where you overthink and cry, public transport is my version. If you overthink at night, I overthink with the sun in my face.
I'd look out the window, and watch the world pass me by, and somehow it's always inducing these emotions in me. These feelings vary, like how sometimes I'd feel sad I had to let something go, sometimes I'd feel grateful for all the things I have, sometimes I am overwhelmed by how strong I've gotten.
Also, I love traveling, but not the idea of traveling the world. I honestly love Singapore, all of its places and roads. I'd had its map as my wallpaper in my old phone, and everytime I pass by the MRT lines map, I'd pause just to admire it. I don't have strong desire to travel the world, though yes it'd be nice, but for now Singapore's roads are where I'd like to wander.
Is 5 overly-elaborated facts about me enough? I do have a lot to say about myself, but I'm sure it'll get boring. Maybe some other day, but you'll definitely know more about me if you continue reading my blog posts, or straightout talk to me ^_^
Saturday, November 22, 2014
Eyes locked in interest and wonder
January, your eyes locked on me in interest and wonder
Your arrival against the cold and I forget how to shudder
A smile, and I can't help letting a breath escape my teeth
Every inch of you steals my air I can't breathe
February, my hands around your waist in possession
So much pain and trouble threatening separation
Your patience, you have entrusted me half your heart
The way you look at me, like I am a work of art
March, your eyes devouring me in curiosity
Fingers in mine, wanting to grasp everything about me
An intake of breath, like it's always the first time we meet
You possess all my heart, you give it reason to beat
April, your growing arms protecting my fingers
Long after you go, your scent memorised it lingers
A snore, as you sleep with your mouth open to your chest
I imagine a future, because I love you to that extent
May, your heels stay rooted to the cold floor
Refusing to go, banging non-stop on my door
A slap across the face, screaming for you to leave
Your constant attention despite all the pain and grief
Wind, you come and you go as you please
When you come in you sweep me up with ease
I am in oblivion, hanging around your shoulders
You are enough to break all ice and boulders
A little story explaining this poem: The left-text are referring to the wind, while the bold right-text are of course the ghost. I'm sure you know who they are by now.
The thing with the wind, back in 2013, was how he just wanted to love everything inside me, from the things I like to the things that scare me. How I'd tried again and again to shut him out, but he always stayed outside the walls I built, trying to coax me into letting him in.
How he isn't here for me all the time, but when he is, you'd just appreciate every second of him existing.
On the other hand, with the ghost in 2014, it's how he just saw me, wanted me, got me, left me, you know those cliche shit. He'd shut me out, not letting me understand him, and when I think he is finally letting me in, he has found something else that he wants, thus his eyes over my shoulders.
How he says he is here for me, and he may be, but he isn't here wholly.
Blah blah bullshit whatever, I've been so stressed out with problems about these two, I don't know how else to let it out without going into cock and bull stories. Okay done.
By the way, this right-text and left-text format posts, I have no idea what to call them. They're usually done when comparing past and present and they're not usually in poem form, but I don't know what to name them. Perhaps just transition-type writing. Okay.
And just to say this, I miss the wind so much right now, and I'm in deep remorse for having disappointed him. I hope there'd come a day when you'd forget everything that is happening right now, because call me silly for saying this but I can't imagine anyone else being God's match made for me.
Your arrival against the cold and I forget how to shudder
A smile, and I can't help letting a breath escape my teeth
Every inch of you steals my air I can't breathe
July, your eyes locked on me in interest and wonder
Glaring eyes beneath the long hair bring a shudder
A smile, and your breath escapes through your teeth
Travel across and steal all my air that I can't breathe
February, my hands around your waist in possession
So much pain and trouble threatening separation
Your patience, you have entrusted me half your heart
The way you look at me, like I am a work of art
August, your hands around my waist in possession
Arms tight around me before every separation
A laugh, and aware that I've gotten half your heart
Admiring and gentle caressing like a work of art
March, your eyes devouring me in curiosity
Fingers in mine, wanting to grasp everything about me
An intake of breath, like it's always the first time we meet
You possess all my heart, you give it reason to beat
September, your lips devouring me in curiosity
Fingertips light as feathers, tingling every inch of me
A sigh of pleasure, before and after our lips meet
You possess all my heart, it forgets how to beat
April, your growing arms protecting my fingers
Long after you go, your scent memorised it lingers
A snore, as you sleep with your mouth open to your chest
I imagine a future, because I love you to that extent
October, your skin outlined beneath my fingers
Long after you go, your scent memorised it lingers
A snore, as you fall asleep against my chest
I imagine a future, because I love you to that extent
May, your heels stay rooted to the cold floor
Refusing to go, banging non-stop on my door
A slap across the face, screaming for you to leave
Your constant attention despite all the pain and grief
November, your heels turning away on the floor
Change of lock and key, beginning to close the door
A wave, a premonition that you are taking your leave
Shock comes after shock, no strength left to grieve
Wind, you come and you go as you please
When you come in you sweep me up with ease
I am in oblivion, hanging around your shoulders
You are enough to break all ice and boulders
Ghost, you shut me in and out as you please
When you pull me into your world I am at ease
But your eyes long for something over my shoulders
You are here but built around you are ice and boulders
____
The thing with the wind, back in 2013, was how he just wanted to love everything inside me, from the things I like to the things that scare me. How I'd tried again and again to shut him out, but he always stayed outside the walls I built, trying to coax me into letting him in.
How he isn't here for me all the time, but when he is, you'd just appreciate every second of him existing.
On the other hand, with the ghost in 2014, it's how he just saw me, wanted me, got me, left me, you know those cliche shit. He'd shut me out, not letting me understand him, and when I think he is finally letting me in, he has found something else that he wants, thus his eyes over my shoulders.
How he says he is here for me, and he may be, but he isn't here wholly.
Blah blah bullshit whatever, I've been so stressed out with problems about these two, I don't know how else to let it out without going into cock and bull stories. Okay done.
By the way, this right-text and left-text format posts, I have no idea what to call them. They're usually done when comparing past and present and they're not usually in poem form, but I don't know what to name them. Perhaps just transition-type writing. Okay.
And just to say this, I miss the wind so much right now, and I'm in deep remorse for having disappointed him. I hope there'd come a day when you'd forget everything that is happening right now, because call me silly for saying this but I can't imagine anyone else being God's match made for me.
Friday, November 21, 2014
'Them'
You're gonna think I'm crazy, but I assure you what I'm gonna say is true. It's what's happening to me. Every single day. For who knows how long.
I don't know if it's normal, but it's so frequent to me that I think it is. But nobody else understands this, much less encounters it.
I dream every single night. And I wake up, every single event etched into the back of my eyelids like a memory.
My dreams, they're very real. No matter how violent they are, every second I am asleep it feels like I'm living that very moment. After I wake up it takes a while to differentiate the dream from the real.
Just last year they got more controlling, to the extent that sleep became very difficult for me. This year I declared I wanna be friends with them, writing stories out of them and yeah I guess it's been going okay with them.
I call them "them" like they're these stray cats coming to my doorstep, or horrible spirits haunting me. But that's because they're, my dreams, are a bit of both.
Sometimes they're lovely, like the one where I was in a really huge bookstore that stretched beyond the horizon. Like the many ones where I kissed the flower on the cheek.
At other times they're horrible, like a tidal wave actually managing to swallow me. Like the one where the wind bashed my head against the wall until I could split my skull open.
Not to mention the fact that this year alone I've came across many places that I've dreamt of before. It's perfectly normal for me to be walking along a road I've never been to before, and saying "Hey I dreamt of this place before." it just doesn't feel weird anymore.
It's totally different from deja vu. In fact I don't really encounter that much. I don't experience in real life something that I've dreamt of, in the exact same way. At most, something similar happens, but the most frequent for me is walking along the place where I dreamt of.
Just today I was looking out the window of the train, and I see a whole housing estate where I've had an entire dream in before. The dream was kind of dystopian/post-war/post-apocalyptic-ish, and I remember most of the building where it took place at.
And this new housing estate, the one that you see when you're leaving Pasir Ris MRT station, has the exact same structure as that dream of mine. Every slope, every hallway, I remember it all. I had this dream around the middle of this year, before the buildings were even built.
I really don't know why I'm talking about them actually. The last time I did, they 'attacked' me, I was sleeping all the time, dreaming every single second, jerking awake and being so damn affected by the intensity. I've blogged about this before.
Sometimes it's hard to grasp what's real or not. Sometimes dreams and reality are so similar that I just can't tell, even though someone may be alive in one side and not in the other, differences like that. I'm pretty sure you think I'm babbling right now, but you wouldn't understand unless you go through this.
If people could believe in things they've never seen before like a God, I have reason to be scared by these things I see every night. At least they're not the same in the sense that there's one single person or thing being in every dream.
One more thing about them, which I can't decide if I like or not, is the fact that I have my own alternate being. I have reason to believe my dreamself exists as her own, and is living her own life. I don't know if she really looks like me, I've caught glimpses of her in mirrors but I can't remember how she looked exactly.
I've had plenty of dreams connecting with one another, dreams that hinted my own life in the other side. She's doing real good the last time I saw her, because the flower still loves her a lot. Yep, the flower's dreamself is totally in love with her, as proven by plenty of dreams ever since the one where they got together, back in, like, April?
Not saying that my dreams happen in chronological order. They're messy that way, and I'm not always me in every dream. I was a little boy once, I was my friend once, little shit like that.
I'm honestly not sure if I've ever done lucid, because for all I know I've never gone to sleep with that intention. They do happen but not with me wanting to. I don't know. This part is fucked up, let's not touch on it yet. But yes I do have dreams where I could control my own movements. If I blog about long dreams with no random cuts and shit, that was definitely a lucid. They tire me out though.
Dreams are fascinating, really. If there were ways to record and share them, I'd throw in all the money I have for that. I'd love to share mine, love for you to see what I mean, the things I've said in this post.
They were scary last year, and still manipulative as heck, and clever, because they're so damn real sometimes. But nonetheless, they fascinate me. I love writing about them, and I wish to know more about them if they let me.
I don't know if it's normal, but it's so frequent to me that I think it is. But nobody else understands this, much less encounters it.
I dream every single night. And I wake up, every single event etched into the back of my eyelids like a memory.
My dreams, they're very real. No matter how violent they are, every second I am asleep it feels like I'm living that very moment. After I wake up it takes a while to differentiate the dream from the real.
Just last year they got more controlling, to the extent that sleep became very difficult for me. This year I declared I wanna be friends with them, writing stories out of them and yeah I guess it's been going okay with them.
I call them "them" like they're these stray cats coming to my doorstep, or horrible spirits haunting me. But that's because they're, my dreams, are a bit of both.
Sometimes they're lovely, like the one where I was in a really huge bookstore that stretched beyond the horizon. Like the many ones where I kissed the flower on the cheek.
At other times they're horrible, like a tidal wave actually managing to swallow me. Like the one where the wind bashed my head against the wall until I could split my skull open.
Not to mention the fact that this year alone I've came across many places that I've dreamt of before. It's perfectly normal for me to be walking along a road I've never been to before, and saying "Hey I dreamt of this place before." it just doesn't feel weird anymore.
It's totally different from deja vu. In fact I don't really encounter that much. I don't experience in real life something that I've dreamt of, in the exact same way. At most, something similar happens, but the most frequent for me is walking along the place where I dreamt of.
Just today I was looking out the window of the train, and I see a whole housing estate where I've had an entire dream in before. The dream was kind of dystopian/post-war/post-apocalyptic-ish, and I remember most of the building where it took place at.
And this new housing estate, the one that you see when you're leaving Pasir Ris MRT station, has the exact same structure as that dream of mine. Every slope, every hallway, I remember it all. I had this dream around the middle of this year, before the buildings were even built.
I really don't know why I'm talking about them actually. The last time I did, they 'attacked' me, I was sleeping all the time, dreaming every single second, jerking awake and being so damn affected by the intensity. I've blogged about this before.
Sometimes it's hard to grasp what's real or not. Sometimes dreams and reality are so similar that I just can't tell, even though someone may be alive in one side and not in the other, differences like that. I'm pretty sure you think I'm babbling right now, but you wouldn't understand unless you go through this.
If people could believe in things they've never seen before like a God, I have reason to be scared by these things I see every night. At least they're not the same in the sense that there's one single person or thing being in every dream.
One more thing about them, which I can't decide if I like or not, is the fact that I have my own alternate being. I have reason to believe my dreamself exists as her own, and is living her own life. I don't know if she really looks like me, I've caught glimpses of her in mirrors but I can't remember how she looked exactly.
I've had plenty of dreams connecting with one another, dreams that hinted my own life in the other side. She's doing real good the last time I saw her, because the flower still loves her a lot. Yep, the flower's dreamself is totally in love with her, as proven by plenty of dreams ever since the one where they got together, back in, like, April?
Not saying that my dreams happen in chronological order. They're messy that way, and I'm not always me in every dream. I was a little boy once, I was my friend once, little shit like that.
I'm honestly not sure if I've ever done lucid, because for all I know I've never gone to sleep with that intention. They do happen but not with me wanting to. I don't know. This part is fucked up, let's not touch on it yet. But yes I do have dreams where I could control my own movements. If I blog about long dreams with no random cuts and shit, that was definitely a lucid. They tire me out though.
Dreams are fascinating, really. If there were ways to record and share them, I'd throw in all the money I have for that. I'd love to share mine, love for you to see what I mean, the things I've said in this post.
They were scary last year, and still manipulative as heck, and clever, because they're so damn real sometimes. But nonetheless, they fascinate me. I love writing about them, and I wish to know more about them if they let me.
Tuesday, November 18, 2014
Two against the world
Waking up from a bed in the West, his arms around you.
Your fingers intertwined with his.
Conversations with him, revolving around your thoughts.
Your feet dangling in the air as he carries you to the bathroom.
Two imperfect bodies kissing in the mirror, joined together as one piece.
Your back brought up the wall, your legs wrapped around him as he kisses your neck in the rain of the shower.
You moan his name in pleasure; "I love you."
He is expanding inside you.
He's here and that's enough to make you.
You think you are lucky to have fallen in love with him.
Waking up from a bed in the East, your arms around yourself.
Your fingers clenched in a fist.
Your thoughts, revolving around conversations with him.
Your feet dragging across the floor as you walk to the bathroom.
One imperfect body staring back from the mirror, broken into a million pieces.
Your head brought down the wall, your legs knelt beneath you as the rain of the shower kisses your back.
You cry his name in longing; "Where are you?"
Half of him is growing inside you.
He's not here and that's enough to break you.
You know you are stupid to have fallen in love with him.
It's two against the world, you and this person beside.
It's two against the world, you and this thing inside.
You have no idea he is gonna kill you.
It has no idea you are gonna kill it.
Burning with hope.
Drowning in pain.
Monday, November 17, 2014
They're all a part of you
I have 3 friends.
A flower.
A gust of wind.
And a block of ice.
I'm not too far from them. I'm a flame.
I am obsessed with metaphors, but most of mine aren't carefully thought out ones. The most consistent metaphors I have are probably the ones where I determine one's 'Type' based on their story or personality.
I'm not saying I know these people very well, but my experiences with them have helped me see what makes them move. Sometimes their Types intertwine with one another's, which makes it all the more interesting... I really love seeing people with Types.
I haven't found one person for every Type, but I have found my 3 friends who have been consistent in who they are.
You are Grass when you've never had your first love, or first kiss, first anything.
When you've never put a knife through anyone's back or on your own skin.
When you've never tried to modify your flaws or expand your strengths.
When you live your life as you are, content with your place and whatever comes along.
You are Flying when you're not afraid to show who you really are.
When you haven't a single shred of past stuck to you, free as you please.
When you work hard for what you want, investing what little strength you have into your wings.
When you fly away when it's time to leave, despite the mess you'll leave behind.
You are Fire when you grab onto something and spread through all of it.
When you are pushed away and deemed dangerous when they think you're giving too much.
When you end up burning your hands even though all you wanted was to warm yourself up.
When you need someone to calm you down everytime your emotions get overwhelming.
You are Water when you learn how to keep your feelings in check.
When you learn how to adapt to any situation, becoming the shape of whatever contains you.
When you go with the flow and deal with it even if it's not what you want.
When you're needed by someone only when they need to quench their thirst.
You are Ice when you've managed to disguise your soft side within hard walls.
When you think you are tough but deep inside you know you'd break when hit hard.
When you're so used to the cold, you get scared when someone warm finally comes along.
When you make sure you don't shed a tear because it'll mean you are melting.
I met the block of ice as cold as he was, but over time I watched him melt into water, not as cold and more adaptive to all kinds of situations. It made me realise that, maybe a person can't be just one Type at all.
In fact I dare say, we are all these 5 Types; Grass, Flying, Fire, Water, Ice.
We have been an innocent flower, not sure of the outside world, never had our hearts broken, not a single scar on our skin.
We have been a gust of wind, a little birdie flying high in the sky, proud of who we are and going wherever we wanted without worries of being shot down.
We have been a flame, doing our best to keep someone warm, wanting people to realise our worth even when we ended up getting hurt by our own actions.
We have been a river, going forward, following the currents wherever it took us without struggling, just watching as the people around us go by.
We have been a block of ice, believing ourselves to be tough and strong even though we know we'd melt easily from the tiniest bit of warmth or emotion.
My friend the flower will someday learn to be unafraid of abandoning the patch of grass he's stayed his whole life. He'll someday grow a pair of wings and earn enough courage to blow through the hair of the people he wants to love.
My friend the river will always revert to and fro ice and water, because he'll never stay frozen as long as I am here. He breaks down sometimes because he knows he is not a hard rock; he is just ice, forced into a cube of his own lack of warmth.
We're not just one Type; we change as we grow up. We change to and fro as we experience all kinds of things in life, be it good or bad. We'll always go back to being a flower when we meet someone we love, convincing ourselves of a brand new start--because it is.
The stages of life: Grass, Flying, Fire, Water, Ice, and back again. But it's okay to go through every one of them countless times. It's okay to stay as one for many many years.
The leaves that you unknowingly step on,
the wind that messes up your hair,
the sun that brings drips of sweat down your back,
the rain that is sometimes cooling and sometimes angry,
they are all a part of you.
And you are a part of them.
A flower.
A gust of wind.
And a block of ice.
I'm not too far from them. I'm a flame.
I am obsessed with metaphors, but most of mine aren't carefully thought out ones. The most consistent metaphors I have are probably the ones where I determine one's 'Type' based on their story or personality.
I'm not saying I know these people very well, but my experiences with them have helped me see what makes them move. Sometimes their Types intertwine with one another's, which makes it all the more interesting... I really love seeing people with Types.
I haven't found one person for every Type, but I have found my 3 friends who have been consistent in who they are.
____
When you've never put a knife through anyone's back or on your own skin.
When you've never tried to modify your flaws or expand your strengths.
When you live your life as you are, content with your place and whatever comes along.
You are Flying when you're not afraid to show who you really are.
When you haven't a single shred of past stuck to you, free as you please.
When you work hard for what you want, investing what little strength you have into your wings.
When you fly away when it's time to leave, despite the mess you'll leave behind.
You are Fire when you grab onto something and spread through all of it.
When you are pushed away and deemed dangerous when they think you're giving too much.
When you end up burning your hands even though all you wanted was to warm yourself up.
When you need someone to calm you down everytime your emotions get overwhelming.
You are Water when you learn how to keep your feelings in check.
When you learn how to adapt to any situation, becoming the shape of whatever contains you.
When you go with the flow and deal with it even if it's not what you want.
When you're needed by someone only when they need to quench their thirst.
You are Ice when you've managed to disguise your soft side within hard walls.
When you think you are tough but deep inside you know you'd break when hit hard.
When you're so used to the cold, you get scared when someone warm finally comes along.
When you make sure you don't shed a tear because it'll mean you are melting.
____
In fact I dare say, we are all these 5 Types; Grass, Flying, Fire, Water, Ice.
We have been an innocent flower, not sure of the outside world, never had our hearts broken, not a single scar on our skin.
We have been a gust of wind, a little birdie flying high in the sky, proud of who we are and going wherever we wanted without worries of being shot down.
We have been a flame, doing our best to keep someone warm, wanting people to realise our worth even when we ended up getting hurt by our own actions.
We have been a river, going forward, following the currents wherever it took us without struggling, just watching as the people around us go by.
We have been a block of ice, believing ourselves to be tough and strong even though we know we'd melt easily from the tiniest bit of warmth or emotion.
____
My friend the river will always revert to and fro ice and water, because he'll never stay frozen as long as I am here. He breaks down sometimes because he knows he is not a hard rock; he is just ice, forced into a cube of his own lack of warmth.
We're not just one Type; we change as we grow up. We change to and fro as we experience all kinds of things in life, be it good or bad. We'll always go back to being a flower when we meet someone we love, convincing ourselves of a brand new start--because it is.
The stages of life: Grass, Flying, Fire, Water, Ice, and back again. But it's okay to go through every one of them countless times. It's okay to stay as one for many many years.
The leaves that you unknowingly step on,
the wind that messes up your hair,
the sun that brings drips of sweat down your back,
the rain that is sometimes cooling and sometimes angry,
they are all a part of you.
And you are a part of them.
Sunday, November 16, 2014
What makes a Ghost
At first, he was Ghost because of his sob story with his then-girlfriend. He told me how she was always neglecting her, how he always felt invisible to her, how he'd stayed despite feeling so hurt by her. I understood his pain because I'd been there before.
It was one of the reasons why I took him under my wing, because I wanted to make sure he didn't feel that way anymore. It was wrong, but I sympathised for I have felt that pain myself. Now I realised my mistake of not listening to her side of the story, but that shall be another matter.
Therefore, in my little world of metaphors and Types [which you should know about if you've been reading my blog] it made him Ghost. For he stayed at the very spot where he had died, right next to the person who killed him again and again.
If you've read my previous post, you'll know how I feel for this Ghost. If you remember, I've also blogged about how I had to reject him in August because I'd chosen the wind back then. When that turned out to be a mistake, Ghost was the first one there for me, so naturally we came together and of course love blossomed blah blah.
It took us a while to be official, even after all the dates and calling each other sayang and all the cute things we did together. It didn't last very long; in fact, it probably started going downhill the moment he asked "Will you be my girlfriend?"
I don't know if people would understand that I just didn't want to lose him, or just call it me being over-attached. I hate that phrase, but it's what he said.
Me getting mad when I watched him hug another girl so tightly in front of me; me getting frustrated when I wasn't sure whether he wanted space or attention; me getting upset when he shut me out and chose to confide in his girl best friend just because she knew him longer; was it so wrong of me to feel these emotions when he made me go through what he did?
I didn't feel it fair for me, because who would stay smiling watching her boyfriend hug another girl like his life depended on it? Which girl wouldn't feel rejected knowing her boyfriend chose to talk to another girl instead; she knows you longer, sure, but it isn't fair because you keep shutting me out when I want to try to understand you. I just met you, of course I wouldn't know you that well.
Well, I did my best, and just like with the wind, it wasn't enough at all for the Ghost.
All I did was love him, and all I gave him was my time and effort and stupid stories so he'd laugh. But it was barely enough to make him want to stay.
Once a cheater, always a cheater.
I really didn't expect he'd do this to me, but of course he would. He's those kind of cliche guys who would fuck you up and then leave you right after with an excuse, just so he could go with the next girl he'd found. It took me a while to realise that, shame on me.
Just thinking of it is making me go insane. I really believed he wouldn't do this to me, even after witnessing him do it to another girl. So stupidly blinded by 'love', so stupid and gullible with too much trust to spare.
I was convinced he wasn't a Ghost after all; I didn't want him to have a Type according to his past but according to his personality instead.
Well I guess he is a Ghost after all, because he doesn't change. He does stay where he is, he does continue to linger at the same spot, doing the same thing to different people, haunting the next person to come along his way.
It was one of the reasons why I took him under my wing, because I wanted to make sure he didn't feel that way anymore. It was wrong, but I sympathised for I have felt that pain myself. Now I realised my mistake of not listening to her side of the story, but that shall be another matter.
Therefore, in my little world of metaphors and Types [which you should know about if you've been reading my blog] it made him Ghost. For he stayed at the very spot where he had died, right next to the person who killed him again and again.
If you've read my previous post, you'll know how I feel for this Ghost. If you remember, I've also blogged about how I had to reject him in August because I'd chosen the wind back then. When that turned out to be a mistake, Ghost was the first one there for me, so naturally we came together and of course love blossomed blah blah.
It took us a while to be official, even after all the dates and calling each other sayang and all the cute things we did together. It didn't last very long; in fact, it probably started going downhill the moment he asked "Will you be my girlfriend?"
I don't know if people would understand that I just didn't want to lose him, or just call it me being over-attached. I hate that phrase, but it's what he said.
Me getting mad when I watched him hug another girl so tightly in front of me; me getting frustrated when I wasn't sure whether he wanted space or attention; me getting upset when he shut me out and chose to confide in his girl best friend just because she knew him longer; was it so wrong of me to feel these emotions when he made me go through what he did?
I didn't feel it fair for me, because who would stay smiling watching her boyfriend hug another girl like his life depended on it? Which girl wouldn't feel rejected knowing her boyfriend chose to talk to another girl instead; she knows you longer, sure, but it isn't fair because you keep shutting me out when I want to try to understand you. I just met you, of course I wouldn't know you that well.
Well, I did my best, and just like with the wind, it wasn't enough at all for the Ghost.
All I did was love him, and all I gave him was my time and effort and stupid stories so he'd laugh. But it was barely enough to make him want to stay.
Once a cheater, always a cheater.
I really didn't expect he'd do this to me, but of course he would. He's those kind of cliche guys who would fuck you up and then leave you right after with an excuse, just so he could go with the next girl he'd found. It took me a while to realise that, shame on me.
Just thinking of it is making me go insane. I really believed he wouldn't do this to me, even after witnessing him do it to another girl. So stupidly blinded by 'love', so stupid and gullible with too much trust to spare.
I was convinced he wasn't a Ghost after all; I didn't want him to have a Type according to his past but according to his personality instead.
Well I guess he is a Ghost after all, because he doesn't change. He does stay where he is, he does continue to linger at the same spot, doing the same thing to different people, haunting the next person to come along his way.
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