Death by roots

A boy and a girl. About my age. Each on either side of me, frowns on their faces and arms wrapped around themselves.

The country was in ruins. The world as we knew it, gone. People couldn't be trusted. I'm not sure they were even people anymore; everyone was empty, vacant, haunted by something that couldn't be exorcised.

The ghosts came after us as much as the 'people' did. We were running every minute, trying our damndest to escape the monstrosities all around us.

We ran and we ran, but we couldn't escape.

I was holding her hand, running as fast as we could, when a voice above us hollered; "You can't get too far away from each other, or the one left behind gets turned to dust!"

We looked back to see our other companion fade to dust as promised; his clothes fell to the ground, and as we looked back in horror, a tree grew in his place. Roots crawled all around, branches and twigs grabbed at his clothes and kept them bound to the stone where he fell.

____

We were being taught how to bury the dead. A man stood in front of us, filling in a hole with dirt, telling us to be careful with our movements. 

He came over to me and with a piercing glare, asked if I had someone I needed to bury. I pretended I didn't know what he was talking about, but he didn't keep his eyes off me. 

I went over to one of the tombstones in the cemetery we were at, looked at the poem written on it. The man came over again, said; "You have to bury him despite his state as dust, because his roots need to grow underneath where they belong."

He stabbed the point of his sword onto a metal that lies on top of the grave; a piece of metal that beeped red as soon as he did that. A bomb that was going off, threatening to blow the bodies beneath the soil to bits; and me too, if I stayed.

____

I hadn't had time to run. 

I was flying once again, only in a broken state. My neck was still twisted, my legs were still broken. My hair still flowed gently with the breeze.

No sound could be heard except the whispering of the wind in my ears. Maybe I'd gone deaf from the explosion at the graveyard. 

One thing's for sure, I was at peace as the wind carried me. I didn't trust that it'd bring me somewhere safe but I savoured the moment of being in its arms. 

A tree had grown to the height where the wind took me. It would have been beautiful if it wasn't for its fast growing rate; it was shooting into the sky faster than a bullet. Faster than me.

Among the evergrowing bark of the tree, I caught a glimpse of a face inside it. A torso lied in the middle of it, branches growing where its limbs would have been, where its head would have been. 

A voice said to me, like a narrator from a movie or a book: "And finally, she managed to catch the most beautiful sight in all of history; her soulmate growing in his element, becoming one with the trees and keeping in touch with his roots."

I realised that if we died intertwined with our Types, an explosion would be one way. I just had to wait for the fire to take me from the inside like how the trees had done with my soulmate; wait for the flame to eat me, lick my entirety and continue burning from my charred skin. 

____

I woke up with a fever. 

These 3 dreams convinced me that my soulmate is Grass-Type or dead or both. 

Been a while since I updated about my dreams. I wish I could understand them better instead of declaring war back on them. 

Dropped

Raising my arms and letting my feet go light;
Closing my eyes shut despite my fear of the night.
Having faith in the breeze running through my hair;
Allowing it to lift me and take me anywhere.

Hanging in the eagle's arms, hands around its neck;
Not an inch afraid, believing it's got my back.
Hair over its shoulders as I'm brought across the skyline;
The pair of wings on its back is as good as mine.

Taking me away to places new and old;
Faith to protect me from the fall or cold.
Caught up in the euphoria and in your laughter;
Forgetting the possibility of what would come after.

The wind turns into ice sliding down my spine;
Shards of cruelty stabbing into the heart that's mine.
The arms around me quickly releasing their hold;
I didn't know the flames of Hell could be so cold.

Broken legs and a twisted neck as I hit the ground;
Continuously admiring you in flight, withholding all sound.
Puddle of blood the only reminder I was once alive;
A raging fire, once in control over this knife.
Watching your wings being your strength to be gone;
Your happiness and freedom being the last I set eyes on.

____

I believed in the wind.
I was scared it'd let me go again like it did, but I dismissed the thought.
I wanted to believe in it more than fear it.

I was brave enough to let it take me, yet I'm too weak to handle being dropped.
I'm that stupid.

But it's okay. As long as the little birdie goes on being free, letting its wings take it wherever it wants.
Seeing a bird fly free is always a beautiful sight, and same goes for you.
Letting you go for the third time.

I thought you'd stay this time.
I finally realised I needed you like how a fire needs the wind to keep it under control.
But.
A fire can't embrace a bird.
And I'd want you to fly free and choose who to love instead of having your wings charred by my flames.

It's really okay.

The world through my eyes

I wonder how life was like before life.

How I was formed in my mother. How tiny I was. How fragile I was; how my parents took special care of me before I was born, how my big brother might have loved me before he even saw me.

I wonder how my family was like, while I was forming inside of her. How my grandmother and father and big brother might have put their ears to her stomach, trying to listen to my voice. Have they ever promised themselves to continue listening to me, even after I was born?

What was it like to learn how to walk? How to talk? My whole life I was on my feet, I've forgotten how it must have been like to struggle on limbs of my own. How it must have been like to use my vocal chords for the first time.

Everything I did back then must have cost a lot of pain. Whatever I was doing or feeling for the first time; it must have been unusual to a fragile being like I was. Maybe that's why I kept crying.

How did my mother ever teach me the things I know today? What was it like to have no idea what a colour is? Who taught me that the sky would always be blue?

It's strange to imagine life in a different way. To imagine myself not knowing the things I know now; not doing the things I do now; not loving the things I love now.

Bliss without pain is a book without stories; a world where you don't cry or feel hurt sounds appealing, but can you imagine not knowing what pain is?

Maybe nobody taught me anything that I know now. Maybe all they did was show me the world, and from there I took my own steps. From there, I took liking in my own favourite things and decided what was beautiful and what was not.

Imagine a place where people told you what to love.
Maybe you are living in there right now.

Maybe I am considered lucky to love things that others don't.
Because it's a reminder that I grew up seeing the world through my own eyes, and not through others'.

A person can truly be called an inspiration if she makes others want to see the world through her eyes.
I want to be one, to make people want to imagine the world I see it. But I also want everyone to learn to see things their own way.

I wish I could be a warm flame to the people I love, and also a spreading wildfire to everyone else, to ignite the spark to discover things their own way.

A new beginning

No more drowning, but a spirit is still latched on my back. 

Petals still linger, but a new seed has been planted. 

No more gentle breeze. I am gone with the wind. 

I am high in the sky along with the eagle, arms wrapped around his neck as he brings me to places old and new. I've held onto this pair of wings before, yet it all seems like a new world. 

Half a year was enough to change someone. But right now, I am the only one who is changed. I wish I had brought him along during that period, but it was he who had left. Now, he is the one lingering behind.

I have to adapt to the change of having many people at once; when I was with him before, I didn't have friends of my own, and I didn't have my parents. Right now, just as I was adapting to having both of those, I have to live with him too. 

Don't get me wrong; I'm more than happy to have this wind in my hair again. It's just difficult to adjust to this lifestyle, of being wanted by many loved ones at the same time. 

I'm proud of myself for not being clingy anymore, for having friends of my own and not forcing you to meet me everyday, but I am sorry if I am negligent. 

I'm taking your hand and allowing you to bring me where you want to, but remember that you are not only bringing me, but my friends and parents too. 

I hope you can adjust to the changes I've made within myself the period you were gone. 

I didn't mean to change; if I'd known you wanted to come back, I would have stayed where I was. 

Now, you have catching up to do. And I'm sorry for that. 

I am willing to fly with your wind even though I'd drop dead to the floor if you decide to let go of me again.

I am willing to plant a new seed, right next to the flower where you used to live with.

I am brave enough to try again. 

I hope it goes well this time. I hope I do not burn you or tire you out, and just keep you warm instead. I'm a little scared, but I'd do anything to keep this fire burning. 

An old flame, a new beginning. 

Two valuable hearts

I was once again unexpectedly the right person. I was somebody's light at the end of the tunnel, the source of happiness without even knowing it.

Once again, it was all wrong, because there is already a girl whom he belongs to.
I am always coming at the wrong time. Or maybe it's just fate placing me where it wants so I can be swept by the wind no matter what.

Then it makes fate cruel. To let two people cross paths, lock eyes and fall in love, only to tear them apart, like tangent lines who meet once and then parted forever.

I did not want the block of Ice to catch a cold from the thoughts in his own head; melted him into water so he could be needed by everyone and flow anywhere he wants without difficulty. Had the potential to destroy me with one wave, but he didn't. Helped me realise that the ocean and its secrets are not so scary after all.

I did not realise the Ghost was watching over me the whole time. He stayed at the very spot he died, right next to the person who killed him, and silently protected me the whole time. I know how it must feel, to be ignored and seen through and gone unnoticed. Wanted to exorcise him from his haunting but did not expect his spirit to grow so attached to me.

I am sorry for breaking your hearts.
You have drowned me, you have haunted me, and now I am burning you but it still does not appease me.

I did not mean to make you fall for me.

I have chosen to go with the wind. What started as a breeze had turned itself into a tornado, sweeping me off my feet.
I admit, I like having the wind in my hair, but whenever the wind goes, it always leaves my hair in a tangled mess.
I admit, I am scared it will happen again.
But I am brave enough to try.

Again, I am sorry for melting the Ice and for taking away the Ghost from the place it has to be in. I know it is silly to cry in the place of the people I've hurt. To me, it's like how I imagine myself in the place of the characters in the books I read, and still end up getting emotional about their predicament, even though it is not my place.

The only difference now is that I am the cause of the pain these people are feeling. It hurts more to know I am the cause of heartbreak than to be heartbroken myself.

For tonight, let me mourn the pain of the Ice and the Ghost. I can't be so selfish as to be happy while they are shattered; for now, let me cry for them, feel the sadness they are trying hard not to show.

Your hearts are so precious and I am so sorry for breaking them; rest assured your feelings don't mean nothing, they're worth enough for me to mourn for. I will never forget both of you.

I will never forget Ghost, the few moments of intimacy between us, while it lasted.

Nine, a helix in the left ear and hair over his eyes; 
Neglected by whom he belongs to, a part of me dies. 
Face cupped in his hands, taking in all his scent;
For us to be together, to be it was never meant. 

They are

He is blades of Grass, swaying in the breeze. A single flower left in the field, continuing to stay in his place even when the others were getting picked by little girls passing by. 

He is a venus flytrap, embracing you for a moment, only to shut on you and devour you whole. 

He is Ice, with a cold heart that took a while to freeze. A longing to melt into Water, constantly going near the flame for warmth only to drown her. 

He is the ocean and its darkest secrets, pulling you down and robbing you of all your breath. 

He is the wind, Flying high in the clouds, not caring about anyone who tries to bring him down. He is free to be who he is, free from all anger and grudge and negativity. 

He comes and goes, sweeping you off your feet one minute and gone the next. 

He is a bottle of Poison, feeding her all his goodness as well as his chemicals. He kills her slowly and silently, feeds on her love and drains her of her strength. 

He doesn't realise he is soaking her wings with his Poison, and without those wings, he may as well be dead. 

She is a Fairy with fragile wings that took years to build. All she wants is to give him all her love, so willing to carry all his weight even when her wings weren't strong enough for the both of them. 

She doesn't realise she is drinking in all his goodness as well as his Poison. 

He is a Ghost, lingering around where he died, continuing to protect the people he loved. He is mistaken for an evil spirit, forced to be exorcised, when all he was is lonely. 

He doesn't realise he could just let the words go through him without hurting him. 

He is Rock-hard stubborn, never allowing anything to get into his head. He takes pride being who he is, unaware he is leaving bruises on the heads he's knocked. 

Returning to someone you left

You don't know how she was found, but she'd always been there.

You first met her in December of 2012, when she was drowning in her pain. She was always putting up a brave front, you couldn't see what was wrong.

She struggled whenever you tried to embrace her, even though all you wanted was to rid of the pain for her. She always ran whenever she heard you coming, afraid you'd pick her up, because she knew you'd leave like everyone else.

Eventually you got her familiarised with you; you started knowing what she liked to eat or do, how she felt without her saying anything. She stopped struggling whenever you kissed her on her head. She grew attached to you and could not go very long without you.

Everyday she waited for you to come home, wanting you to embrace her like you always did at the start. You loved her so, always feeling warm with her around. Sometimes she'd run around crazy, or hyper, destroying whatever came her way, until she'd collapse of lethargy. All she wanted was your attention, even if she couldn't show it properly.

You stayed by her side for a year, until that day in January when you decided to leave, to go back where you came from. To go back to the person you were before you met her, before you reached out to her, before you loved her.

Today, you continue missing her. You find yourself still thinking of her, missing her, six months after you abandoned her. A part of you regret the decision of going back to the life before her, and yet you know you need to have this new start.

You meet her again after half a year; there she is, as usual, waiting patiently for you to come home.

She stares at you in awe as you approach her, that longing in you to sweep her off her feet like you used to everyday. You embrace her, and she allows it, and she looks up at you with those hopeful eyes. She doesn't look one bit mad at you for abandoning her; she looks like all she cares about is the fact that she's right there in your arms.

You talk to her like you always did, and she listens like she always did. She watches you eat as you both sit underneath the little things she finds fascinating; occasionally smiling in a purr when you wrap an arm around her.

You stare at her while she laughs with her eyes, and you tell her how much you missed her. You stroke her fur and rub her belly, laughing at how she loves it and you tell her how she's always been the most beautiful cat you've ever met.

Anis, my babygirl from Paya Lebar; remembering how I first loved her when she was going through her operation in December 2012, how she'd come into my room whenever I came home, how I'd left her in January this year, two days after my break-up, going back to Pasir Ris and missing her every single day.

Even today I can't go back to her forever; Pasir Ris is my home too, and I can't be with her everyday. In a way, I've to let go of her. I hope she understands that I can't be hers alone; though, rest assured I may meet other cats out on the street but she will always be the one I love most.

-This post has a metaphor which only the wind might understand. Haha. 

My constant falling in love

One, an extra middle tooth with an arm bandaged;
I believed with my heart first love couldn't be damaged.
2010, 2011, awaiting by the door;
2012, unsaid words, changed reasons, poof no more.

Two, video cameras and loving classmates;
Trying to forget for each other's sakes.
But a girl he used to love, he wanted to kiss;
With a wave of his hand, I was dismissed.

Three, a different soul under a same face;
A constant presence during the difficult phase.
Lust mistaken for care and concern;
Not getting the loss back, lesson learnt.

Four, crooked teeth, lines above the smile;
Held hands and fought for love far longer than a while.
Convinced and believed, worked hard for forevermore;
Until the day "I just don't love you anymore."

Five, a ruler taller and a love for writing;
Fears and dreams over the phone at 3 in the morning.
A hand to hold whilst sober, I couldn't be his;
For there was a girl who long already is.

Six, who is passionate with his heart for flight;
Never letting priorities and dreams out of sight.
Always so grateful for his being awakened;
Always doing his best, for his days are numbered.

Seven, a single flower left in the field;
The longing to hide behind his innocence, use as a shield.
But a raging fire can't embrace such a fragile being;
Beautiful as his own, couldn't have a ruin clinging.

A second chance, Four times two makes Eight;
His love never forgotten, he thinks we're joined by fate.
Two steps into a new beginning, he decides he isn't ready;
I hide my upset, understand and accept whatever his need.

Nine, ten, eleven, twelve;
Before others, love yourself.
Four, three, two, one;
After seven, I think I'm done.

Nineteen years and counting, fading is my limelight;
I should stop falling unless I know he's the right.
If unsure what you're drawing, first trace with a pencil;
So no ink and blood is wasted on the wrong people.

Pyrophilia

Disclaimer: the following blog post is full of metaphors. If you know who are the people I'm referring to as flowers etc, then maybe you can get a grasp of what I'm trying to say here. If not, then fine. Like I said, speaking in metaphors is a good way to make people stay away from me. 

I've realised how my existence has caused harm to many people's lives. If you remember how the introduction in Avatar: Legend of Aang goes; "Then everything changed when the Fire Nation attacked." 

I am that fire; and if I hadn't come into presence, peace would have been reserved. Meeting with me intertwined the lives of people who otherwise wouldn't have had anything to do with each other anymore.

If it weren't for me, the flower's roots would not have been threatened by the angry breeze. If it weren't for me, the wind would not have stirred a ripple in the pond. If it weren't for me, the water would not be overflowing with dried leaves. If it weren't for me, these lifeforms would have continued living in peace.

And if you look around, you'll realise that every one of these elements are constant. Trees, water, wind; they make up your everyday life. They're not a threat. Most of the time if you see a fire, it means there's danger. Even the sun, which presence is the most vibrant, is disliked by everyone because of its heat.

The heart of a fire is like the eye of the storm; a calm in the middle of the chaos, helplessly watching the destruction its arms are causing.

The fire has uprooted one of two flowers who were left on the field.
The fire has pulled out a few of the remaining flower's petals.
The fire has melted the ice that took years to freeze.

The fire has caused nothing but trouble within the lives of these 3. 

A raging fire needs to be destroyed. But a fire does not purposely burn down the forest when all it wants is to embrace a flower. 

A fire destroys everything in its path because it is too scared to open its eyes and see where it is going.
A fire is lonely because when it burns, people run.
A fire does not show its sadness because flames are meant to be blazing red and not blue.

Perhaps a beat of wings is what a flame needs. A beat of wings that would not completely destroy the fire like how water would, but one that would keep it under control, making sure it doesn't get too big.

A beat of wings that is not a whirlwind, but not a breeze either; just enough to help the fire cool down a little, to just exist as a warm flame.

That's what I need. I need the wind; a small gust of air that would blow at me and remind me to keep it down if I get too angry.

I have nothing in return for you other than to give you a purpose, which I hope you have been looking for; but I need you. I'm so tired. Please give me your strength.

Notions

Commend me for having the balls to write this. It would kill me to write this, yet it's a lot more painful to keep it inside. There was a feud over a blog post, and then there were raised voices over a few tweets. I don't know... I can't describe this feeling. It isn't loss, because I never had him to begin with.

The more books I read, the more I realise that big brothers betraying their little sisters are a common plot twist. I hate it. It reminds me of my own predicament. He was never even my friend, yet I feel so damn betrayed by the way he's treated me all these years.

I don't know when he changed, or why, but he's hated me all along, no matter what I do. Sure, I've been annoying as heck but I thought that's what siblings are made to be.

I tried to hate him. I guess the hatred was dripping all over the surface but it never really took my whole heart. I convinced myself I hated him with all my soul, and it was easy especially during the period when I was living in Paya Lebar.

It was only when I realised how much he hated my presence here at Pasir Ris did I want to try again. My main drive was my parents, but I also wanted to be the same person to both my brothers, not just a loving sister to my younger one and a hateful person to the other. And, well, I've always wondered what it was like if I was close with my elder brother. Sometimes I can't help but wonder if he ever looks at me and questions what I like.

I kinda still genuinely hate him, but it's undeniable that I'm sad to see him going. I failed to bring him back. I don't know if he will ever know something simple about me like my favourite colour.

But it's okay because he's obviously happy. I've never seen him radiate with happiness like he seems to be these days, and I shouldn't care about how I'm not the source of it. I shouldn't care about how his happiness is pain to all of us, because it's his life. I should be glad he doesn't seem to have a care in the world.

Been listening to Notions / The Ready Set on repeat, because I can't help but be reminded of him and his girlfriend when I listen to it. How he loves her so, and how we can't do anything about it but bask in the shine of their togetherness.

Diary of the coldest heart

The few months with her have been the best for me.
Nothing lasts forever.
And so doesn't our complicated yet unique relationship.

I love everything about her. From her smile to the way she sleeps... Simply everything.

I love her hair. How it flows in the wind as if she's a female movie star or something. I love her lips. God, I feel as if I could kiss them 24/7 even if it meant my lips would be swollen and bleeding. I really don't care; I just want her lips on mine all the time.

I love the bracelets on her left hand. Full of memories and gratitude. It's nice to know I belong somewhere. I love the way she giggles; everytime she does, all my problems would go away just like that. I love her lame jokes because they make me forget everything.

If we'd known each other longer I would have fallen for her. Maybe I already did, but unfortunately it's too late.

I want to say I'm sorry for all the mistakes I've done to her. I won't be surprised if she doesn't text me anymore because I feel like I've been a burden to her. She says she appreciates it but I don't know if she meant it.

I've not been the best person to her but I'll always be there for her. That's all I can do.

Deep down I don't want her to go but I'm sure she has her reasons. I just hope she remembers to be happy. I love her.

____

I never thought I'd have power to break people's hearts; apparently I do. I'm well aware when I hurt someone even if I look like I don't care about their feelings.

Whenever I break someone's heart, I give up a part of mine as well, never to be gained back. I've symbolised a few people I've hurt through my piercings, even if they were the ones who left me, just to show that their feelings meant something to me.

And in the last week, I learnt that people who left are sometimes more affected by it than we are.

I have a lot more to say to this block of ice but I feel like there's no use because I can't get through his barrier anymore. He claims he loves the cold, so obviously he doesn't need my presence. Even if he wants warmth, I'm not his for him to rely on forever; I'm not the only flame in the world.

We can't click because he can't accept the truth, my honest opinion about his relationship with the outside world. He doesn't accept that there are people who think differently from him, and that's why he's better off alone, even if he hides the fact that he doesn't like the solitude.

Maybe he doesn't even need a flame. Maybe all he needs is another block of ice, one that's willing to stay cold with him forever. As much as I hate him, I'm not gonna remain cold just to pass on the negativity. I'd rather go away and give my warmth to someone else.

Over-excited post about yesterday

After we'd spent last June doing our 6th annual reunion, the girls and I met up again yesterday. The other 3 girls couldn't make it because of school, so it was just the 4 of us, and we only realised it was Reunion again when we met up xD

I met Shushan at Dover station, where her school is, and we took the train to Bedok; our initial meet-up was Changi City Point, which is at Expo, but we were still early so we took a walk around first.

So Bedok Mall is awesome *.* The first time I went there, most of the shops weren't open yet so I was still in for a surprise. We visited the 50-cent sushi shop, where every sushi was going for 50 cents and you just picked what you want. My mom always bought me those but I never saw the shop myself!

And... there was a store full of Pokemon plushies. A piece of heaven as I called it. Gosh, I would have bought them all if I could, especially all the Eeveelutions and the pillow that is Meowth's face! Of course, I only left with an Espeon plushie ^^

Once Siying and Sabrina were on their way, Shushan and I got on the train back to Tanah Merah and then on to Expo. I've always liked looking at the railway tracks surrounding Tanah Merah, Jurong East, and Ang Mo Kio. A fascination only I would understand.

So the 4 of us found a place at the food court in Changi City Point, and I had so much difficulty deciding what to eat. I wanted chicken chop but there weren't any so I got myself curry rice from the Japanese food stall :p

There was a Metro sale at Expo so we decided to just check it out for a while. Everyone was split up the moment we entered, just gallivanting around and looking at different shit xD We got together finally at the confectionery section.

Samples were everywhere and we were pretty much having a feast with all the free food! We were even given ice-cold jelly from the sample lady, and I ended up buying the lemon-flavoured one. Because jelly is good.

Although I tasted so many good stuff, I only bought that lemon jelly and some butterfly biscuits (my fave). We all shared our purchases, because most of them were "2 for $3", things like that.

We got out to see that it was 8.30 pm, when I'm pretty sure we entered around 6 or so. We were in there for two hours!!!

Still, we sat at Texas Chicken to lepak for a while, rest before our bus journey. On the way to the bus stop, we had a lot of stupid moments, talking shit and laughing our ass off haha. Then we took 12, all of us alighting at different bus stops; me right to the end.

So there we have it, how my day was yesterday! I believe it's been a while since I actually blogged about something simple like a day I had and enjoyed :3

Top 5 fears

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ramadan 2014 reflection

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The flame, the flower and the block of ice

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Goodbye moths

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

3 deaths I've dealt with

I hated him. 

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

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

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

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

____

I barely knew who she was.

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

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

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

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

____

I didn't get to say goodbye.

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

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

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

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

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

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

____

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

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

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

3 passing thoughts

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

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

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

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

What if you woke up and realised

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

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

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

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

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

____

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

For my brother

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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