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.

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."

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 ^_^

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

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

____

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.

'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.

Two against the world

Waking up from a bed in the West, his arms around you.

Waking up from a bed in the East, your arms around yourself.

Your fingers intertwined with his.

Your fingers clenched in a fist.

Conversations with him, revolving around your thoughts.

Your thoughts, revolving around conversations with him. 

Your feet dangling in the air as he carries you to the bathroom.

Your feet dragging across the floor as you walk to the bathroom.

Two imperfect bodies kissing in the mirror, joined together as one piece.

One imperfect body staring back from the mirror, broken into a million pieces.

Your back brought up the wall, your legs wrapped around him as he kisses your neck in the rain of the shower.

Your head brought down the wall, your legs knelt beneath you as the rain of the shower kisses your back.

You moan his name in pleasure; "I love you."

You cry his name in longing; "Where are you?"

He is expanding inside you.

Half of him is growing inside you.

He's here and that's enough to make you.

He's not here and that's enough to break you.

You think you are lucky to have fallen in love with him.

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. 

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.

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.

Please have my heart

I saw your problems from day 1. You say "You don't know me" but in a way, I do. Because I've been in your position. I know what you're doing, what you'd do next.

I knew how to tackle you from the very beginning, to help you go through all your bullshit with me. I took on the challenge but it was harder than I thought. Helped me realise this is what I'd made everyone around me go through when I was in that phase.

I wanted to accept you the way you are, and I managed to because you showed me that side of you. It frustrated me to see you being someone else around everyone else, but close the doors behind us and it's all bliss you are.

The things you told me, the things we laughed about, the things we loved each other for. It was so easy to fall for you. It was so easy to feel that all of it was 'love', so easy to have appreciated the little events in the previous weeks that led up to that moment.

When you asked me to be yours, I had to take a huge risk. I'd seen you hurt other girls in my presence, and you know how people say whatever a guy can do to another girl, he can do the same to you. I was betting on my life when I said yes.

But knowing that, I did my best to make sure you'd never feel the need to hurt me. I put you as my number 1 priority, which wasn't difficult in the first place because I didn't have my own best friends that I see everyday. There's 1, but he's your best friend too, so there was no problem with that.

As time went on you started giving me reasons to be mad at you, but I only reacted that way because I loved you and didn't want to lose you. I kept telling myself to deal with it because that's how you are and I'd have to accept it even if it hurt.

Sometimes it felt like my existence was nothing to you, because you'd always choose to confide in someone else about whatever problems you have. I kept emphasising on the fact that it may be fun and laughter and jokes between us but that it was okay if you had serious things to talk about too. I was willing to listen to it all.

When you first started talking to me, you told me all the problems you had with her. I tried not to hurt you the way she had, but time went on, and it turned into you hurting me that way instead. At times I thought I understood why she had acted that way in the first place; you were the one pushing people away.

You told me not to put so much trust in you, not to care about you. I wanted to give you whatever you needed, but give you too much space and you'd say the same thing about me like what you said about her: "I have a girlfriend but I don't feel like I have one." you were the one pushing your significant other away. It was hard to grasp whether you wanted attention or space.

During our pre-relationship days, we both had someone else. We were both indecisive at the time, we had the same hard decisions to make. In the end we chose each other, chose to put away whatever it was we had before with somebody else.

I did that. I totally forgot about the wind when I was with you, very sure he'd be nothing compared to you. Very sure you'd give me all the bliss he gave, and I was glad when you became more and more comfortable with me like how he was. I loved how you'd get annoyed with me and love me at the same time.

In return, I tried to be better than your previous girl too. I took your confidings into consideration, remembering the things you told me about her that hurt you, made sure I didn't do the same and made sure I gave you more, gave you whatever you needed.

Was that not enough, because even when you said you chose me, your heart was still with her. I thought you were happier with me but the kept photos and changed wallpaper and contact name "Love" proved me wrong. It was unfair to me because at that point you were already my only one.

I learnt your logic was screwed, so screwed I had to bend over backwards to understand you. It was hard, but I figured it was worth whatever pain for you.

I really gave my best for you. I give my best for every one of my significant other, be it an official relationship or dating or just infatuation. Whoever I'm with deserves nothing but the best for choosing to be with me of all people.

We were starting to fight nearly everyday but I just didn't want to lose you. You were hurting me every other day but I kept quiet because I didn't want to make a big deal out of it. The 2 times I did cry in front of you, I just couldn't take it anymore at that point because everything was just crashing into me.

Even if you were the one who killed me in the first place, I'd be grateful for you the moment you resurrected me with a simple wipe of my tears and a kiss on my head.

I loved making you laugh. I loved teasing you non-stop even if you were already ignoring me the past 10 minutes. I loved hearing you give that "what am I doing with my life" sigh when I drag you to do something stupid with me.

Whatever we've done together the past few months will stick with me for a long time you know.

How you wrapped your arms around mine when we watched our first movie together.
How the both of us had coincidentally worn navy blue shirts for our first date.
How you'd said "It's because I love you" before you dived in for a kiss when we were sitting at my school field.
How you fell asleep with your arms and legs around me during City Of Bones.
How we kissed to the same song over and over.
How we explored each other in the dark, every outline, every inch of skin, with our lips.
How I brought my hand up your leg slowly when we watched If I Stay, only for us to look up and see Adam doing that to Mia as well.
How I puked in the middle of VivoCity, my vomit landing right between your shoes and how we just walked away after a minute of processing what just happened.
How we always pretended to wrap our arms around each other only to unleash a deadly burp into the other's ear.
How shy you were when I gave you a surprise kiss on your cheek when you're in the middle of talking.
How I'd spin under your arm and you'd spin under mine as well just to make me laugh.

You hurt me but oh you do not know how willing I am to go through the hurt just to go through all these little things again.

I could go on and on, because if I remember people for the tiniest of interactions with them, I'm very sure I'll never forget you.

If all this wasn't enough to convince you that it's okay to be with me, then I don't know what else I'm supposed to do. Following suit your screwed logic, you told me you take words very seriously. Well these are all the words I have for you so please take them. This has been me spilling out my heart so please take it.

Kings of tidal waves and lightning bolts

Why do we keep running?

Is it because the king of tidal waves is growing out of the horizon, coming faster and faster towards us?

I never liked water. It's my biggest enemy. I don't get seasick; but the slightest interaction with water drives me crazy. A shower is fine only if it's set to the highest available temperature.

I wouldn't have boarded a ship in a million years. But with that giant wave threatening to swallow me, I jump right on, my cheek dragging against the wood of the floorboards.

Panicked whispers form out of the other survivors. I struggle to sit up before I drag myself along the floor to sit in the corner. My knees hugged to my chest, I look through the glass that makes the wall of the ship.

The wave is growing larger, coming closer. Everyone comes forward and watches the sight with me; they fall silent, as if still trying to process what they're witnessing.

Some of them react as dramatically as sliding down to their knees, burying their faces in their hands. The others walk away further from the glass wall towards the other side of the ship, heads stooped low. A few groups hug each other; it must be nice to still have your family or friends during this disaster.

Me? I have no one. I'm alone. I don't know where any of my loved ones are.

The wave comes closer; it's so large it covers whatever sight is left of the sun. I don't move from the wall at all, just watching my fear expanding beyond my strength.

Everything seems to pass in slow motion. I watch the wave hit the floor of the ship, its boards breaking apart; the impact creeping up on me, throwing everyone off and then me. I hit the water, and instantly I can't breathe.

I don't know how low I've gone. Maybe it's just an exaggeration on my part, because I don't like water after all... Being just an arm's length away from the surface still makes me feel like I'm chained down to the deepest recesses of the ocean.

To imagine that giant wave from before destroying our ship and throwing us off into suffering, only to go back into its origin and hiding within the rest of the ocean..... it makes me so sick. Water is a cruel thing.

The currents grow stronger, and I see a few bobbing heads scattered in the water. A few floating bodies, dead. The sight scares me, but I don't know if I'm shivering from the fear of dying that way or from the cold of the wind against my soaked being.

A few quick strikes of lightning.

I'm struggling to find a piece of the ship to float on. The impact of the wave was so strong that nothing is left of it.

And then I see it; a fat line of light coming down slowly from the sky, towards the waters. The king of all lightning bolts, determined to fry us all once it kisses the very tip of the ocean's surface.

Indescribable pain shoots up every fiber of my being. I don't feel my body anymore, don't even remember if I even own one.... How am I still alive? How is everyone around me still screaming in pain instead of floating quietly and dead and charred?

____

I wake up tangled in a net.

The first thing I realise is: I can't feel my legs.

The first thing I see is: people are still alive, but they're not people anymore.

They're burnt.

And as they're pushed by guns belonging to men that still look human, they walk forward, on all fours.

I'm trapped in a world where people continue to slave despite how the kings of tidal waves and lightning bolts had caused everyone's legs to fold beneath them, making them look like distorted frogs.

I don't want to look down to see for myself how my legs are, but I feel the muzzle of a gun forced onto my head, and I proceed forward to find myself walking on my feet and my hands, my knees on either side of my face.

____

I wake up in my bed this time, and my legs are aching, but they're not folded beneath me. 

Never meant to be gone so long

I still remember back in January this year. After 2 years of being away, I was so excited to be going back to Pasir Ris. And then 3 days ago, after 4 months of being away, I was excited to be going back to Paya Lebar.

These two places aren't very far, they're merely 8 stations apart, and not a different state or anything. Still, it makes me feel like these two are huge places, occupants of big spaces in my heart.

They're both special in their own way, enough to make me feel emotional every time I have to leave one of them. Pasir Ris was where I grew up and out of my innocence, and Paya Lebar was where I learnt the most valuable lessons from about moving on.

When I went back to Pasir Ris in January, there was that familiarity. The feeling of recalling every outline of your bedroom, the positions of all the furniture, the places of all the little things; it's easy to remember all of that no matter how long you were gone, you know? It didn't feel like I'd been gone at all.

Still, after a few long months of being there from Ramadan til now, it didn't feel like home anymore. Deep inside I was aware that my parents and brothers weren't my only family. The friendships from secondary school weren't my only social circle anymore.

It was starting to feel like Pasir Ris was just a small town, kept from the outside world that is Paya Lebar and everywhere else. It felt like as long as I was in Pasir Ris, I'd be cooped in a shell, kept far too safe from what I'd been exposed to.

From the moment my dad kicked me out, that fateful day 2 years ago, he had permanently cut the cord that had tied me down to Pasir Ris. Try as I might, making it home again was like a glitch that corrupted all your memory, rendering your progress entirely useless. A glitch that you're better off not messing around with.

I decided that Paya Lebar is where I really belong now. Home isn't where you come from; it's where you choose to be. And this is where I choose.

So here I am now in Paya Lebar, but again, everything has changed. The old fire station has been turned into an office building. There's a new shopping mall with a frexing Starbucks. A neighbourhood police centre suddenly sits at the void deck.

At my home itself, nothing's changed since the last time I visited, but it still isn't the same anymore. It isn't the way I got so familiar with; no more of my books in boxes, no more of my clothes folded into stacks on the floor, no more wind to text "I'm home sayang" to.

At least, those books are now sitting beautifully on shelves at Pasir Ris.
At least, those clothes are now hung gracefully by hangers at Pasir Ris.
At least, that wind has been replaced by a ghost I met during my days at Pasir Ris.

At least, the cats still remember me, be it the ones in the house or the void deck.
At least, my grandmother still welcomes me home and loves me.
At least, I made it this far, to one year shy of being 20.

I have grown up a lot. I've spent my entire life at Pasir Ris, but it was the 2 years at Paya Lebar that taught me everything I know now.

It's not gonna be my place forever, but for now it's the place I love most. I love everyone at Pasir Ris, including my sister-in-law and my niece who is coming in a month's time, but Paya Lebar is where I'd like to belong to.

Whoever you are, I remember and love you

I mean it
when I say

I don't forget anyone.

No matter how long ago
No matter how small the interaction
No matter how you treated me

I would never forget you.

I remember the first friends I'd made in poly and the drama that followed
I remember the cliques from secondary school and the non-stop gossip
I remember my best friends from primary school and the games we played
I remember the children from my kindergarten.
I remember their faces, what we did together, their names.
And whoever you are, I'll always remember you. I could be directing this right at you for all you know.

With remembrance comes love. If I remember you, there's a chance that whatever love I had for you is still with you.

I probably still have a bit of my love for the wind, for my semester 1 classmates, for my sec 4 classmates. Even if they don't want it, even if they don't realise its existence, the bit of my heart I'd given still lingers around them, hanging by their ears or stuck to their backs.

They don't remember me but I think about them sometimes.

Every year I do this thing of writing little notes on my blog, thanking the people who were there for me at one point. I've been looking forward for the year to end only so I can start writing thank you paragraphs for the people of 2014.

I just want people to be appreciated. I want the people I love to know how much they mean to me. It saddens me all the time to know that they don't feel the same way for me. Still, it'd be nice to for them to know they mean something to someone.

Not someone they'd give a shit about in return, but at least someone... Right? It's the least I could do.

When I give my love I don't ask for it back...
Maybe my dad had thrown his piece of my heart out the door as well two years ago,
maybe my big brother had traded his piece of my heart for a foetus 8 months ago,
maybe the wind had broken his piece of my heart when he dropped me for the third time,

but

there will always be a new seed planted in their souls
a seed that grows into a piece of my heart shortly after.

Maybe it's tiny this time
but
it's there.

And as long as they don't know it's there, they won't touch it, and they won't break it.
I guess it's safer to love someone who isn't aware they have a piece of your heart.

It's sad when someone doesn't know you love them
doesn't appreciate that you love them
doesn't love you like how you love them
doesn't even believe you love them.

I'm trying to accept that not everyone I love will love me back...
Even the best friends I see and laugh with everyday keep things from me
even the only friend I have in poly choose to talk to someone else about her problems
even the one who understands me most choose to push me away when I want to hear him out.

I don't know what to do

They tell me not to worry
not to bother trying to understand them
not to give them my full trust

but that's just how I work.

Even if I've sinned you
or pushed you away myself
or kept quiet when you were suffering alone
or didn't have any advice for your problems

you know, I remember you
and I love you

Just wait until the end of the year and you'd be surprised that I remember the tiniest moments with you. Moments that you wouldn't remember, but that I'd be thankful for for a long time.

Whoever you are, you have a piece of my heart, glowing with every tear that drops into it, be it mine or yours. In the time I was writing this, I've already thought of a lot of people....... Specific names, specific moments.

Everyone means so much to me.... I wish they'd at least see it if they wouldn't return it.

A poem about strength

Strength is distinguishing alive from dead;

Bullets barely grazing the side of your head. 

Strength is walking in a new direction;

A rusty swing constantly in motion.

Strength is the scenery changing as you pass;

Not bothering to sweep up the broken glass. 

Strength is your fingers flying across the piano keys;

The opportunities you never had guts to seize. 

Strength is putting away dusty photo frames;

No more crying when you hear certain names. 

Strength is the determination to breathe and float;

The lifting of the oars to row the boat.

Strength is smiling at the blistering heat;

Running until your heart forgets how to beat.

Strength is a bridge formed by differences;

Being pulled closer the longer the distance.

Strength is the bruises turning a murky yellow;

Jumping despite unawareness of what's below.

Strength is having a voice louder than thunder;

Standing in harsh winds without as much as a shudder.

Strength is the pride and love for your inner soul;

The continuous burning of fire against the cold.

Strength is lifting your knees up from the ground;

Your chin to the sky, no more looking down.

____

I can go on and on forever because strength comes in so many forms, but I shall stop here.

Circa Heroine

Back to the year 2011, when I was the girl running around with that lousy camera, irritating everyone by recording their faces. I wasn't friends with everyone, had just the few girlfriends I was happy with.

This little video recording job was the only opportunity for me to talk to every one of my classmates. If not, half the time I'd just be in the shadows, behind even my best friends.

By the end of the year, I loved all my classmates more than anything. I loved how we made effort to go out and plan chalets, I loved the memories they gave me in my video camera. Even til now, I'd look back at those videos and I'd still laugh to myself in reminiscence.

2012 was when I was completely alone, but by the end of the year these classmates were reaching out to me, and I appreciated them finally noticing me from the corner of the classroom. I remember each and every one of them, their very actions and words, even til now. I'll never forget because even now I'm still thanking them.

The reason why I got kicked out from my Pasir Ris house 2 years ago was because I'd stayed out overnight with these classmates.... It was the class chalet, and everyone else was staying up all night, so I decided to join them.

I got back in the morning only to have my dad kick me out. I went months being a pure Paya Lebar girl, not seeing my parents the whole time. Sometimes a part of me blamed my classmates, but I tried not to, because no matter what I still loved them.

I loved them more than anything, but they didn't love me back. Of course. Not everyone you love returns the feelings, right?

Love isn't just for a lover, but also for family and friends... The sadness that comes after you get rejected by a friend is no different than being thrown away by a lover.

Come 2013, when I have new classmates; people all over Singapore gathered together as 1A1. We were all so awkward at first, but after a few days of a Whatsapp group and orientation we started meeting outside school.

Gosh, I was so happy with them all, the laughing non-stop at stupid jokes, spending our hours-long breaks playing pool, sneaking out of class to get ourselves snacks.

I rejoiced in our differences, wanted us to stay together til whenever, because I was starting off that path with them. Of course that didn't last forever either... I was force-fed with the truth that the people you meet in poly will never be your friends forever.

I'm alone until now, with only 1 true friend who was in the same boat as I was, and I'm grateful for her, but sometimes I wonder what it would be like to still be friends with my original classmates.

Friends are the closest to family, sometimes closer than your own blood.

I joined the Whatsapp group community early this year because it was obvious I wasn't gonna make friends any other way. The people in my school were just way out of my league, and I was too shy to interact with anyone in real life.

After just a few days in Heroine, I already loved them. I'd laugh to myself thanks to our conversations, no matter how sad I was before that. No matter how lonely I got, a whole day of laughter was just a "Hi guys" away.

Again, we were all a collection of different people. We were all scattered around Singapore, messy with all kinds of personalities.

The original Heroines were the ones who gave me that little push to move on from my then-recent break-up. When we first met, we weren't awkward; we laughed and bullied each other like long-lost friends. They were my everything.

Even when things got a little messed up, with people developing unreturned feelings and leaving the group unannounced, I loved Heroine more than anything. I had many groups, but they were the one and only who had all of my heart.

I was gone for a while because my phone was a little crazy and I couldn't use Whatsapp. When I came back, most of the people I knew were gone, replaced by countless new numbers, new faces.

At first, I didn't like it; I missed the older members, but as time went on I grew more comfortable with everyone. I learnt to accept the change, to embrace the new and at the same time never forget the old.

The few times all of us met up, I was more than happy and grateful to be in that group. I kept thinking of my secondary school girlfriends, how they all had their own poly friends while I didn't. How the wind had his own ite friends and I didn't have any in poly.

Heroine was my version of tertiary best friends. They meant so, so much to me, and I was so proud to call them my friends.

They were more than friends; they were family.

I loved all of them, each and every one of them. Maybe that's a lie, maybe I do still love them... That would explain why I get all teary-eyed whenever I think of them there without me.

I didn't have a say in this. I never wanted to leave, but just because I have sinned one person from there, I am forced to make my undesired exit.

I am a little mad at the fact that he was the cause of all the events of the past 2 months, and yet she made me out to be the bad guy. He calls Heroine 'just another group', while Heroine is the world to me. He doesn't deserve to be in there at all, if following suit my opinion.

As much as I love him, I hate him more everyday as long as he is in there and I am not.

Funny how they would get upset when someone leaves on their own intention, but they don't make a single stir when someone who loved them more than anything is shunned by one person.

I get sad thinking about it, wanting to be in there with everyone again but I know I can't do anything about it. This is just another group of friends that I'd regarded as family but whom see me as nothing but just another person.

Even if I never talk to anyone in there ever again, I just wanna make it clear that I'd never forget a single one of you. Even if we had the tiniest bit of interaction, I'll never forget it, because every single individual in there meant so much to me.

I don't even know if anyone of them reads this but hey. At least it's out of my system. Gosh I just loved them so much... But I'll let them go if I have to.

I know I haven't shown my love for you guys and I haven't been showing my concern upfront. I'm always watching from the shadows, hoping you'd be okay even if I'm too shy to say anything or to offer a listening ear. But please accept my words because they are all I have for you. I love you guys so much but I know I've to let all of you go.

The silence after fire

An explosion.

The last thing I remember before the burst of flame was the presence of other people around me. Everyone was laughing, enjoying each other's company, moments before they were all torn mercilessly to shreds.

I remember my palms placed flat against my ears, and him jumping to wrap his arms around me. I remember cuddling against his chest, seeking solace in his scent like it was a physical wall that could protect me.

You don't know what 'loud' is until you hear silence.

It was deafening.

The silence was screaming from within me, threatening to split my head wide open. It was louder than what any concert or clap of thunder could ever be.

I don't recall how long I closed my eyes... I squeezed them so tightly I thought my eyelids would have eventually ripped apart.

I opened them to see everything gone. Pasir Ris, the town where I'd grown up in, nothing but ruin and debris. The grass stained with blood, roads littered with burnt body parts.

I'd closed my eyes with his arms around me. When I opened them, they were still around me.... Just his arms. The rest of him was gone. Whatever had been left of him was a mangled, charred mess with the remains of everyone else.

Everything and everyone was in ashes, and I was the only survivor.

The sound of the explosion completely deafened me, but the silence and still that followed was louder, that it masked even my screams.

I jerked awake from my mattress and released a breath I was unconsciously holding.

Crazy thoughts

I was on the train today, and I was standing in the same spot the whole time. I still had a long way to go, and then I spotted someone getting ready to alight. Of course I got ready to take his seat because duh I wanted to sit.

I was about to sit, the seat being just two steps to my left, and then BAM! this woman who just came in stole my seat like nobody's business. She sat down and continued watching whatever movie on her phone, oblivious to the heart that she had just broken [mine].

Well damn, I squinted my eyes at her in frustration, and the more I stared at her the more I wanted to hit her in the head. Really!

But I didn't of course, as much as I wanted to. And then I had a train of random thoughts following suit: if I had listened to my heart and hit her like I'd wanted to, the people on the train would think I was crazy.

And then it occurred to me that you would usually be called crazy if you do or say things that you want to.

Thinking about it, I've been called crazy a bunch of times for speaking my heart out, be it out of happiness or anger or whatever. Is that how things really work? People dismiss your thoughts as craziness if they don't accept them.

You'd walk down the street and a random man could come up to you and shoot his mouth off, and even if whatever he was saying made sense, you'd just dismiss him as a crazy person. Do I not make sense???

I don't know, I just had these random thoughts. Am I the only one who sees the world the way I do, who is brave enough to actually say what I want? If I am, then does that make me crazy?

Love someone different

I once let go of someone I really liked, because I strongly believed that all I would do was destroy him.

He was a flower, and I was a flame. I couldn't disrupt his perfection with my rage.

He's never had a first love, never had a girlfriend, never had his first kiss, never harmed a hair on anyone else or himself. While I, on the other hand, I've thrown away every ounce of innocence I used to have. Permanent scars to symbolise my dirty past forever. 

I let it go because I knew I didn't deserve to be his first anything. That I couldn't ever be, and that he deserved to have someone better than I ever will be.

It was the sad truth, but it was a pity, because he meant so much to me and I really did like him more than I ever thought.

If this was a movie, fate would continue pulling our lives together. Time would ensure the flame intertwines around the flower, like a vine in itself, wholly accepted by something that it would have otherwise destroyed.

Because after a lot of thought, I realise that Fire and Grass make the perfect lovers. 

A flame can show the noise and buzz of the outside world to a flower, her energy warming up his roots and petals, ensuring he continues to prosper and live.

A flower can show the quiet and soft side of the world to the flame, his silence calming her and burning her anger down to the ground.

Maybe the perfect lover is not someone who shares the same interests in you, or someone who has the same experiences as you.

Maybe the perfect lover lies in the person most different from you.

Maybe differences are what pull two together.

Love someone completely different from you, so they can show you the side of the world you never knew, and you can show them the side which they don't.

That's a way for you to belong to each other. And there's definitely something beautiful about loving yourself and your other, two differently broken shapes that piece together a whole new world. 

Aceing 2 S5 :-)

So exactly a month ago on the 10th of September, I tweeted something that went along the lines of: "Everyone has new phones and still getting new phones while I'm approaching 2 years using my Ace 2."

I don't even know how old an Ace 2 is. I just know it's so damn old that they don't sell phone covers for it anymore. That's how you know it's an ancient phone model.

About 5 hours after I tweeted that, I got a pleasant surprise. My aunt and my mom had gotten me a new phone as an advanced birthday present. And it was a freaking S5!!!

I haven't gotten a new phone in ages, I just didn't know how to react. It was a huge jump from Ace 2 to S5 though, so once I was able to use it, I realised how awesome it actually is. That's when my reaction went up a notch.

5 things about my new phone that make me realise how shitty my previous phone was.

1. First things first, I can now see emoji!!! Real life emoji that I can choose from in my own keypad, other than on Whatsapp. And I can see and use them on Twitter and Instagram, gosh. You have no idea how much that excited me!

2. The camera's quality was so good!!! In the past I was always getting worked up over a mere iphone's camera quality, but this was way better! And that selective-focus thing just made me fall in love.

3. I could see gifs and vines on Twitter. Yes, in my previous phone, I couldn't see those because 'this media cannot be played'. I could only see them on my laptop. The day I discovered vines, I smothered my timeline with retweets of them.

4. Honestly I had no idea you could edit your photos on Instagram. I only had to use their normal filters, I didn't know the existence of all those brightness and contrast editing thing, which was way better than their normal filters lah! And also, INSTAVID!!! My Ace 2 couldn't instavid for some reason, so the moment I realised I could now do that, boy was I so excited.

5. My Ace 2 had very little memory, so I didn't download that many apps. Just the usual social media and shit. And now, with my S5, I took the opportunity to use all the apps that others have been using for a long time. I'm being so jakun with freaking vscocam right now, even though it's a simple photo editor. It's just so pretty and shit, what more with the better camera quality!!!

6. Oh, one more. The fact that there actually are phone covers for this phone being sold. And many designs too, it's just.... *.*

7. Oh, ONE more. The fact that the voice note quality is so good. It intensifies my laziness to type, because it doesn't make my voice sound so horrible as compared to my previous phone.

To end off this overly excited blog post, here are some pictures I took around my room and edited. Yes, I have pictures in my blog, but this is the only exception because it's too cool!!!

Yes, I sound like I'm promoting the S5. Silly me. I shall kill this excitement now.
*runs around the house to continue taking and editing pictures*

If rain was my friend

There are different kinds of rain.

There is the summer rain that sweetens all that is bland and brings no cold, just company.
The rain which makes you want to read a book while listening to the melody of its raindrops.
The rain which makes you want to share your umbrella with your lover, a first kiss full of gentleness and innocence.

There is the pouring rain that makes you want to stay in your dreams.
The rain that is accompanied by wind, cooling your neck and making you want to bury your face under the blanket.
The rain that intensifies your desire for that special someone, to spread warmth to them.

There is the piercing rain that stabs your skin from all over.
The rain that you walk underneath, sharp raindrops that are nothing in comparison to your internal pain.
The rain that reminds you how alone and cold you truly are, forcing your hands to be buried deep in your pockets.

There is the heavy rain that creates a din against your window.
The rain escorted by lightning and thunder wherever it goes, sudden jolts and claps of memories you want to forget.
The rain which makes you want to hide forever with your eyes and ears closed.

____

Summer rain is the tears you cry out of thought.
The innocent tears you shed when you long to be the pillar of strength for someone.

Pouring rain is the tears you cry out of gratitude.
The joyful tears you shed when you know you have all that you need in life.

Piercing rain is the tears you cry out of loneliness.
The sad tears you shed when you lose someone who means the world to you.

And heavy rain is the tears you cry out of rage.
The angry tears you shed when you realise you can't do anything about it.

Line between reality and possibility

Don't know if you've noticed, but I haven't been writing in as regularly.
Don't know if you know, but that's because I've been so damn busy.
Reading books.

I've borrowed tons of books from the library in September, and since they had due dates with them I rushed to read them all. I still have 10 more to go, heh.

I'm just blogging now because I've had these thoughts over the past few days or maybe weeks.

So I read this book called Pivot Point by Kasie West, a paranormal YA. This paranormal world where people have 'abilities'; our main character Addie has the ability to Search; when faced with decisions to make, she is able to see into the futures for each choice.

When her parents got a divorce, she had to choose between staying in the paranormal world with her mom, or move to the real world with her dad. So of course, she decides to see into both futures. The chapters alternate between each futures.

During her Search in the future with her dad, she meets this boy named Trevor. A normal boy, with no abilities, considering he's from the real world. At one point of the Search, Addie decides to tell him all about her ability, all about the paranormal world.

They're having that loving moment, him cupping her face in his hands and she looking at him adoringly when Trevor asks; "Addie, what if this is a Search? What if now, this very moment, isn't set in stone. What if you're just seeing a vision of what could be?"

That caused some bomb of realisation to explode somewhere in my head. The thought of a moment being something less than a reality. A moment being just a dream, or a daydream. That it was never real, or that it will never be real.

Addie chose the future with her mom, so she never met Trevor in the same way as in her Search. In the sequel, Split Second, she goes to live with her dad in the real world during her holidays, and there she does meet Trevor, but in a completely different way.

Can you imagine having someone you shared moments and love with, staring at you like you're just a stranger? Another thought that ripped my heart out. To have Addie being the only one who 'remembers' all that time spent together.

Sure, it was just a Search, nothing more than a daydream, but it was also a potential future. It was going to happen for sure if she had chosen that path, and yet just as easily those moments could be violently taken away.

I don't know what you think of it, but it kinda scared me to think about it. To live in a moment only to imagine that it isn't set in stone, that it could be just a daydream.

Think of it this way, it's like having grown 20 years and then waking up as a baby, having all those years as a mere dream you were having. All those times you had fallen down, fallen in love, laughed and cried and all those friends you made were just a vision of the future. And now that you're back in reality, it's not confirmed that you'll have all that at all.

It's exactly like how sometimes the line is blurred between reality and Dreamworld. [if you know the problems I have with my nightly dreams] One second I'm very sure that's reality, and then I wake up to realise no, I was just dreaming.

Makes me question every moment that I breathe when I'm awake. I've read 4 books since then, and I'm still lost in the thought that right now, this moment, may or may not be real at all.

Don't know if I may seem like I'm babbling, but these are just the thoughts that came when I read those books. I'm getting goosebumps now.