The Wonderland that is 2014

Call me crazy but I consider myself lucky for going through so much bullshit in life. Beginning of the year, I was left by the love of my life; I'd followed my broken heart down the rabbit hole, into the Wonderland that is 2014.

I'm glad he left me, because I wouldn't have gone through all these things, be they wonderful or horrible, and not only am I thankful for him, but I will also keep the memories of this place called 2014 in my heart for as long as I live.

This year was an adventure far worse and better than anything Alice had gone through in her own Wonderland. I returned to my parents, had fights with them; I made a ton of new friends, lost just the same many; I fell in love many times, got my heart broken; I gained many new family members, lost a fair share.

Have you seen the many bracelets I wear on my left wrist? They aren't just ornaments for my hand but they have meanings to each. They were given by many different people, and I use that to represent everyone else who came into my life the same way.

If Wonderland was just a figment of a girl's imagination, then I'm glad I have these bracelets, proof that 2014 ever existed at all. I have no intention to forget anything from this year, and I will never.

A bracelet from my year 1 classmate to represent the friends who'd supported and made me laugh in poly.

I remember Loy, whom I was awkward and shy with but who helped me in Daeln. I never got a chance to show her how annoying I am, or got to know her better, but I will always remember how sweet she was to me, and I will always keep her bracelet.

I remember the boy named Aloysius whom we all called Tom. He had admired me for the way I kept going after my break-up, glad that I was still laughing with him, Loy and Shihui no matter how sad I was.

I remember how Shan listened to me at Holland, comforted me with not just words but actions too. I remember the little things he told me about himself, the story of the book he wished to write, his dreams and ambitions.

I remember how Jin asked me for my name on the second week of school, and the first thing about him that I noticed hahaha. He'd say stupid things to make me laugh, listen to what's going on in my life, confide in me what's in his.

I remember how Justin would keep turning the switches on my desk on and off just to irritate me. The really silly things he kept talking about in APPG, the way he'd ask me random questions and make fun of me for the slightest.

I remember Shafiq, how he'd always call me just to say hi no matter what, the way he'd exclaimed how nice my hair was. I appreciate the rare times I could talk with him, because we seldom see each other in school anymore.

I remember how Susan would always come saying hi whenever I'm at the atrium alone. She'd talk about the randomest things and randomest people just to update me on her life, and we'd laugh at the craziest things.

I remember Hidir, the only other person I know who loves Singapore so much. I appreciate how he'd come over to me or wait for me to actually talk to me. And the things we'd talk about; how they'd range from crazy to deep.

I remember hearing about Hafizah a lot last sem, only getting to meet her when we were forced into a group together. We'd talk about whatever came to our minds, try to control our laughter at the back of Daeln lab, make plans about graduating together.

I remember Shihui, the only one who still gets excited everytime she sees me, I can be just as silly with without being embarrassed, make me laugh without even trying. The best friend from last year when we realised we were in the same boat.

A thin red hair-tie from one of my managers, to represent the people I've worked with at my new part-time job. 

I remember the people I worked with on my first night; Amanda, Jessie, Roger, how they were patient with me even though the crowds were stressing them out. Amanda advising about future studying, Jessie answering my questions patiently, Roger telling his own struggles with studies.

I remember Naff and Alee, making work with them always fun when they bully each other; Naff with her random dancing, Alee with his random comments. How they are the only ones at work I could laugh and babble on and on with about meaningless things.

I remember everyone else; Naz and Hafian, Esther and Shuwen, the way they'd helped me with anything I was struggling with. Eri, how she'd laugh at anything, make me laugh and at the same time disciplining me to do better.

One of those loom band bracelets in gayblue, from one of the wind's secondary schoolmates, to represent the great friends lost when I lost him...

I remember Mel making me noodles when I'd ended up at her doorstep during my break-up. The words she said over and over to make sure I got it. She'd been the one who taught me that I should start living for myself rather than others.

I remember Naqib coming to Woodlands just to fetch me when I was being a stupid and sad girl. He even sent me all the way back to Pasir Ris even though he lived in Yishun, also speaking the same advice repeatedly because I was being stubborn, refusing to move on.

I remember how Farhan came to me just to ask how I was because he'd dreamt 3 bad dreams of me in a row. We had talked about our own experiences with the dreams we had at night. He was probably the only other person who'd understand my thing with the dreams.

I remember wanting to make friends with Juyani, but still feeling so embarrassed about the time I talked to her out of the blue during my break-up. I still want to make friends with her but I don't dare approach her anymore because I'm still embarrassed by that.

...and the greater friends gained when I lost him.

I remember Danny watching me sob my eyes out, comforting me even though he had difficulty with words. He'd sent me all the way to school, even waiting til I was dismissed from counseling, went through the troubles of buying me iced milo despite his social anxiety. I remember his long texts that had made me cry, his inner devastation when all I did was push him away.

I remember how Azim had called me kawaii, how he'd said I looked like a strawberry of all things, how we'd hung out at his school to 'study' when really we were just laughing at stupid things. I remember how I'd let him down, extinguished the tiny chance we could have had.

I remember the people of Estfut, making me giggle so hard to myself in the library. They were the first Whatsapp group I ever had, and I never got to be close to them because of a fall-out with one of them but I remember everyone and all the things we'd talked and raged about.

I remember Roshan, how he'd been so sincere in his feelings for me. How he liked me so much to the extent that he thought I was the one. I'm so grateful he'd felt that way, even though I'd pushed him away and taken it out on him, treated him as negligently as how my own crush had to me.

I remember Diyanah and her talking to me anonymously, how assured I was that somebody was there for me. I remember the way I'd looked at her and how she effortlessly had the one person that I wanted, how I could never in any way be like her, how I had to just trust that she would take care of him like I couldn't.

I remember Yazid, how I'd gotten so close to him only after my break-up. How he'd become my best friend in that few months, how we'd so easily talked and laughed about the most ridiculous things, made fun of each other like we were friends for such a long time. I remember how he always felt emotions on my behalf, from happiness in my moving on, to anger for my being cheated on.

I remember the way Zara stared at me when she saw me for the first time, how adorably she'd said "So that's how your voice sounded like!", how she was the one person at the time that I wanted to talk to about my crush. How she'd pulled me back to stand with her and her friends, telling me I was not allowed to stand alone whenever I tried to saunter away from the circle.

I remember Adly for everything he'd gone through for me, the way he'd felt emotions he didn't deserve because of me. I remember the way he'd try so hard to look cool all the time, but how easily I was able to make him laugh like a small kid. I remember him for all my stupid metaphors that he is, for all the times we fell back together despite being polar opposites.

I remember how Luqman had been the first one there for me after my break-up, the one I'd liked for everything that he was. I remember all the feelings I had for him, all the confusion and complication that circled us, all his thoughts that I wished I'd known sooner, all the hope he'd held without realising. I remember him as the one thing that I hoped to be, but never will be.

I remember Seira. 'Love' that was forbidden and had to be kept secret. A lover that may or may not have been there. Just another ghost floating in my soul.

A rusty chain from a Heroine, to represent the best Whatsapp group ever. 

First off, I continue to love Heroine because they were a family, and because it was thanks to this group I'd started to welcome the magic of birthdays back into my life. If it wasn't for the celebrations for Yat, Zye, Asyiq, Acap, no matter how small, and the wishes on mine, no matter how short, I would have continued hating birthdays. I will always remember this deed done by Heroine.

I remember the old Heroines, our many voice notes that would make me laugh so hard; our very first meeting at a rooftop beside Kallang station. I remember Hakim Shrek trying to quit smoking under my influence; I remember Mawar loving the younger Heroines like her little siblings; I remember Syafiq making a song out of my poems, I remember Anis, I remember Afad, I remember Ayumi.

I remember the newer and probably current Heroines, the few interactions I'd had with them. I remember Syaf waving at me from our school library; I remember Yat always copying my words and calling me a ghost; I remember Eka, how she seemed to admire me and like me no matter what, I remember Hakim, laughing at the faces I made; I remember Atiqah, I remember Feezah, I remember Asyiq, I remember Shawn.

I remember Izni, the things she'd told me in our taxi ride home from jalan raya. How I hadn't done anything more than listen, thinking about how I'd gone through that myself years before. I remember her for the person she shows everyone, because I never had courage to talk to her more than that.

I remember Hanafi, how I thought he was so tall, how weird he was when he first started talking in Estfut. I remember him for how he didn't easily forget things I said, for the things he told me that I never got to know if they were true or not, for how I thought he reminded me of the person I used to be.

I remember how Arie first talked to me during our jalan raya when I was starting to feel left out, how his exterior was the contrast of who he really was and how easily he laughed at little things. I remember him as a ghost for who he is and done and his obsession with zombies and all things scary.

I remember Acap for the many things he talked about, from his DJ stuff to his love life, how cool he may have seemed on the outside but how funny and irritating he actually was to me, the way he looked at me as I was talking about books, pretending to be interested.

I remember the way Zim would smile at everything he or I said, how we'd sat at a void deck talking about love lives over KFC, how we'd wandered around Woodlands with a motor helmet and a camera. I remember him for having been one of my first best friends of Heroine that never left.

I remember Effa, her voice when she sings and when she laughs, how she gave so much effort and love for people who did not deserve it. I remember how funny and happy she is with her friends, never forgetting the pain she felt inside. I remember in regret how I watched in silence as she suffered, from way back in February, without having guts to do or say anything.

I remember Naz for this group she's put together, how she loved everyone and vice versa. I remember her as someone I've wronged but never apologised to, only realising the mistake of not listening to her side of the story too late. I remember my sins toward her and her reactions to it that I would not blame her for.

I remember Zye and his lame jokes that he was always able to make funny, how he had a crush on me, the things he was attracted to me for. How broken he was when I rejected him for someone who didn't deserve it, his long text spewing all his feelings. I remember him as the big brother I never had, as someone whom I could run to and hide whenever I'm scared.

A watch from my best friend, to represent the best that I still have from secondary school. 

I remember Waikit for the senpai he's been since 2008 until now, how he'd called me sweet for having appreciated him when his other friends from secondary school had long forgotten who he was.

I remember Natalee and her enthusiasm for wanting to bring me to a cat cafe, how she's never failed to wish me on my birthday for years now.

I remember how shy Marissa had been to talk to me, how she'd thought I was an inspiration sometimes, how she'd been one of the few people I was surprised to know knew my birthday.

I remember Asleah leaving me so impressed with the dance skills I didn't believe she had, always looking so confident on stage. How she still made me laugh on the very rare times I managed to meet her.

I remember Pearl for continuing to laugh at my lame jokes even til now, on the few occasions I could see her. She'd always have her holidays on our school days and the other way around, being in Lasalle, and I appreciate the one time I managed to meet her this year.

I remember how Sabrina would put so much time and effort into her schoolwork, into hosting the 6th Reunion, into getting us souvenirs whenever she went on holiday, without fail. I remember our stroll around the airport, how she'd roll her eyes at my wisecracks.

I remember Shushan getting progressively prettier every time I see her, and yet still maintaining her super lameness. I remember the weird things she'd buy at bookfairs, like the binder and laminating machine, as if she'd wanted to make her own office in her bedroom.

I remember Siying always. I remember her spending yet another birthday with me, being the first I'd confided in about the wind's return, being the one to know me better than anyone without even talking to me for such a long period of time.

I remember how Farizah had been a host for my frequent visits to her school, how we'd reminisced about secondary school years in the zone of life beyond. I remember how she'd been so happy as well whenever I caught sight of my own crush.

A piece of wood with my name on it, dangling off a band from my mother, to represent the family she's brought me. 

I remember my only girl cousin, always so concerned and asking about school and my relationships even though she's got other things to worry about.

I remember my grandfather, still so spirited and chuckling to himself even on a hospital bed, his tendency to wander off like I would.

I remember my oldest uncle, putting all his love into renovating his new house, his constant anger and irritation to humans, only going soft and loving around his cat and kittens.

I remember my second uncle, how he'd make me laugh with his random comments when we're watching television or just hanging around in the kitchen together.

I remember my aunt, the look on her face when I came home heart-broken and hungover, only to tell her I was leaving and going back to my parents. I remember her being the dartboard for my frustrations, how she still loved me after I left her for a family she'd promised to protect me from.

I remember my father, hugging me after 2 whole years of not seeing me, holding back his tears as he said: "Daddy missed you so much."

I remember my sister-in-law, my awkwardness with her still labelled love compared to the dislike I felt for her the first time I saw her. Her text being the longest I'd received on my birthday, her being so concerned for me despite not being my real sister.

I remember my niece, staring at me with huge eyes the day after she was born, stopping her cries only after I rubbed her cheek.

I remember my big brother as the one and only person in the world that I hate.

I remember my little brother that I never got to see through puberty, the one person to live with my insanity and candidness every day and still remain my best friend.

I remember my mother, finally giving me reasons to believe she was proud of me and loved me, appealing against my dismissal from school, fighting for my life on my behalf.

I remember my grandmother, calling me every day if I'm at Pasir Ris or out, never staying mad at me for long, still making me hot milo even when she is.

Another loom band bracelet in green, from a Heroine's sister, to represent the other friends made through the people above. 

I remember being afraid of how Yuyul would see me, considering that she was a friend of my big brother's, but she'd been so nice to me. I remember the conversations with her that I never had with my own big brother.

I remember Nura whenever I am writing a new blog post, because she never fails to consume my words. I remember her as one of the very few people who follows and understands my every thought, and every new post is like a letter I'm personally writing to her.

I remember Ariff and his passion for flight and the aviation industry, his will to live every single day despite knowing he only has few left. I remember the love I had for him that existed only as smoke and never a flame, clouds and never a plane.

I remember Elin for being the person I have wronged, who still forgave me, who was so excited for our new friendship. She'd ask how I was, listen to me ramble on, make effort to type out long texts of advice. As much as I am grateful for her, I'd sometimes wish I could be more like myself with her and not shy anymore.

I remember Para, who anonymously asked how I was when he saw my depressing tweets, even gaining guts later on to admit it was him, and still occasionally asked how I was.

I remember Huda and Atiqah, Farizah's poly friends who let me study with them, taught me engineering Maths and gave me cookies to munch on whilst so, even making me laugh with their random stories.

I remember Aqilah and Aliff, the laughs we had at Aqilah's house, the time we'd gone to catch Lucy and taken a stroll down the city. I should have loosened up a little with Aqilah, being the same age as her, and I should have diverted the attention to Aliff, seeing how sad he'd been that day.

I remember Athirah and her love for cats, the way she'd jump-scared me half to death and laughed her head off while I laid half-dead on the floor. I remember the way she held on to me at Halloween Horror Nights, hid behind me when a zombie scared her, making me feel like I had a younger sister.

I remember Zaim being so pleasantly surprised, impressed even, to know my fascination with trains, my love for reading and writing, how it'd flattered me; I remember Fir, for his constant singing in the background that always made me laugh whenever I was talking to his cousin through the phone.

And around my neck, is a red dogtag, dangling off a chain from my wind, to represent what I will always fight for, what I will always love, what will always be home.

I remember 'Aamir as the flower I'd plucked off the field; as the bird who flew away as and when it liked; as the sun who continued watching me even from behind the clouds; as the river who pushed me along to places I never dared venture on my own. I remember him as everything; as the name that has been written beside mine.

I remember Pasir Ris, its constant changing alongside my own growing older. Every inch of it that's been memorised, every change it's gone and going through; like a sibling that is growing up together with you.

I remember Paya Lebar, the one thing I want that I never did have, its ground being a shelter to my past and future, for I have chosen it as my real home.

I remember passion, the only strength I ever had. My books, my metaphors, my dreams, my flaws; the things that push me apart from other people are what pull me together.

I remember life as my lover. I'd fallen in love with the view outside the window, the moon that followed me where I go, the wind that kept messing up my hair. I'd fallen in love with holding my chin up high, with walking on despite being so tired, with giving all I have to somebody who doesn't deserve it. I remember life as the one place where I'd fallen in love with everything and everyone.

____

365 days in this Wonderland had all possible routes walked, all strange characters met. While I may be nothing more than a lost girl to the eyes of the people I'd met, they on the other hand will stay etched into my memory as strong individuals for as long as I live.

I dare not live without pain as much as it's lonely to not be cared for.

I am in love with the idea of being alive, all of its flaws.

I am 19 and young, and I'd plunge myself down a waterfall despite my fear of the deep blue, for I wish to remain reckless with the love that is life.

____

***Initially edited this to the original version of Wonderland by Taylor Swift, but of course it got copyrighted, so I changed the audio to a cover by At Sunset.***

When the love of my life left me at the beginning of the year, I'd followed my broken heart down the rabbit hole, and stumbled upon the Wonderland that is 2014. 

Sounds cheesy, I know hah, but yes that's how the year has turned out. I've met so many new friends, went on so many fun outings. 

Okay the first half of the video focuses on my love for the roads that was borne of my loneliness at the beginning of the year, and the later half on the laughs I've had with both old and new friends later on. I'm very blessed for everything that 2014 came to be, even though I'd felt like I was gonna die back in January.

About religion again ugh

So I came home today, silently, without any greeting as usual. Not even the standard "peace be upon you" that is to be greeted at every Muslim house... I honestly can't remember the last time I said that, or even the reply.

My dad asked: "Why do you never give your salaam?" to which I kept quiet to, because I had too much to say in answer. Sometimes a person stays the quietest when she has the most to say after all.

He came into my room later, asking: "Do you have a lot of Chinese friends?" I wasn't sure how to answer, truth be told, because I knew why he was asking. I really only have 4 close friends who are Chinese, the 3 girls from my secondary school clique, and 1 from poly which is Shihui.

Most of my friends, as of 2014 anyway, are Malay. Muslims. Does it make any difference to my views on religion? NOPE.

I find it irrelevant for him to have asked me such a question... It's got nothing to do with the amount of Chinese friends I have, or friends from different religions. Parents' constant mistake: whenever something goes wrong with their child, they blame company, even though most of the time it's a thing borne of solitude.

Some time ago, I made a pact to myself that I'd decide on my 20th birthday if I'd like to try repenting again, or be fully atheist. I've been leaning against the latter, especially after many events and thoughts of the past year.

I keep saying this, but: religion tears people apart, be it from one another, or from themselves. Difference of religion make people hate each other, think themselves highly, better than others, things like that. Those cliche quotes of how people with tattoos are always nicer than those who go to church blahblahblah, I find it true in many ways.

Even my own parents aren't spared from this judgement of mine... They don't pray and never really raised us that way, and yet they tell me to be a better Muslim yadda yadda. At least my mom took me out of religious classes at the end of primary school, and I'm glad she did, because it was a way of letting me choose my own views.

Still, I judge my mom heavily for the way she associates herself with religion. She wears a headscarf but she doesn't act it out. She's a powerful woman in her own way, but I don't think she should wear it just because she feels disrespected for not wearing it at the age of 50. I have to admit I'm not entirely proud of her starting to wear it because of how she really is.

Sometimes I think I believe in the devil more than in God. Main reason: if dreams are the devil's playground, then wow that means the devil has been there for me more than God ever has.

The wind's argument to this: "Yeah it's the devil's playground, but the devil was made from God." which made me wonder, as silly and stupid as it sounds, what if God was made from the devil instead, created to divide everyone, to inflict pride and conflict? I sound so stupid saying this but hey.

If people can believe in a God they can't even see, then why can't I believe in the devil more, considering the fact that I've been supported by him every night in my dreams?

What's more, I kinda support things that are against my religion. Things like feminism, because I was told in Islam, women are always second to men, things like LGBT, because relationships with the same sex are prohibited.

And if you think about it, sometimes when you pray to God, you're technically just praying to Him to simply undo the things that He himself has done. Just my thoughts okay?

So many things to say about this... Just one simple exchange of words with my dad can spark all these rants. But yeah, the points I'd wanted to prove: 1. My views on religion has got nothing to do with the friends I have. 2. I believe in the devil and in demons more than in God.

Stop giving it all to me

I think people are selfish with everything they have except for one thing: the blame. They are more than obliged to give you all the blame they have, selfless enough to save none for themselves.

I read this saying once, something that went along the lines of: "When the leaf falls, do you blame it for not holding on, the tree for letting it go, or the wind for blowing it off?"

When something happens, I doubt there's any party entirely innocent. When someone commits suicide, you don't just blame them for not being strong enough. You'd blame the bully for tormenting them, you'd blame the people who stood by watching, not doing anything to help.

No one is spared the blame; there's more than enough to go around, so go ahead and take some. You deserve it anyway.

I hate how people would say it's my fault for making the bad decisions. I'm not saying I am not wrong, I never once said that. But I can't take all the blame. So would you just stop giving it all to me? I have plenty, I accept my share, but that does not mean I will take others'.

You can blame the ghost, for he was the one who pulled all the strings. He was the one who created such a situation by coming to me first, and you can even blame him for something stupid like making me like him after he came knocking on my door.

You can blame the wind, for he was the one who broke my heart for the third time, rendering me vulnerable enough to be taken advantage of by the ghost. People do the stupidest things when they're upset, so I think it's perfectly fine to blame the one who caused that sadness.

You can blame the flower too, for he was the one who kept all the hope in him. Whether or not what he said was true; if he had said something at that period, I would have clung on to that tiny spark of hope, and none of this would have happened because I'd have stayed where I am.

The possibilities are endless. You can blame anyone, whether they are in the game or the sidelines.

For the past month, the entire responsibility of all this has been dumped on me, and it's tiring the hell out of me. Once again I say, because some people like the river never understand this no matter how many times I say it: I'm not saying I am not wrong. I am very aware I'm in the wrong. I just plead that you stop giving me all that blame.

I'm shouldering the weight of the blame that is meant for the ghost, and it's not fair for he was the one who kicked the ball rolling in the first place. Maybe it was wrong of me to have continued pushing the ball, stupid of me to have put others before myself, even someone like him.

But everyone is making it seem so stupid to have liked someone who talked to you first.

Everyone is making it seem so difficult to just take a slice of this blame.

Everyone is making it seem so unforgivably wrong to make these humanly mistakes.

I've been taking all the hits from as far back as when it all began, and I'm honestly proud at how long I've lasted, how many times I stood back up after crumbling, but. Just. Stop giving it all to me.

Love and marriage and jodoh wow

Brace yourself, I'm gonna talk about love now. I've always looked for love, always writing my love stories, but I've never really thought hard about it. Until now anyways. I've been brainwashed with marriage ever since I watched my big brother happily settle down with my beloved sister-in-law.

You can't deny that love with a significant other is still the love you desire most. Even with all your family, friends, passion; having someone special, someone existing just to hold your hand, is the best kind of love. It's not desperation on my part... Maybe I just feel this way earlier than most people do.

Life isn't meant to be lived alone, really. Even if you spent your entire life so far single, once you marry someone, bam, they're with you til death. Your roads are with that person, never on your own again (provided that you both love each other that much of course).

I wish to settle down at age 25, just like my parents. At first it was because I thought it was cool to turn 50 in the same year of your 25th wedding anniversary, but now that I think about it, it's just the right age to marry. I've no desire to go university straight after poly, so it's the best option for me.

I'm 19 now, a hair's breath away from 20 at the rate time has been going. My parents met at their workplace, and if I'm not wrong they were in a relationship for only 2 years before they got married.

In my opinion, I'd like to have been with my future husband longer than that. Marrying someone you've been with for 5 years? I don't know about you, but that sounds more appealing than settling down with someone just a year after you got together.

I think it's normal for one to feel like they've found their soulmate, especially when they're at a certain age. For my case, the word 'jodoh' is stronger, and yes it's surprising I believe in this even though I'm not religious.

Honestly I don't know what are the factors that would contribute to the fact that two people were literally made for each other. Is it how you still think of each other 6 months after breaking up? Is it how you always cross paths with each other's lives no matter what? Is it based on feelings or just fate, I have no idea.

I have an inkling on who my soulmate might be, and the things he'd said in July and November have helped me realise I'm not the only one who thought of this. It's crazy. I sound crazy now, but......... it's crazy.

Back in secondary school, there'd been a boy who kept coming back into my life too. But now, me being 19, it seems silly as heck to have thought of him as a soulmate just because of how he kept coming back. Yet here I am doing the same analysis with this other boy. He could mean nothing to me when I'm 25, and yet...

Yeah. It's crazy. Love is being crazy. Love will always be crazy.

I blog because...

"Thank you, God, for this gift that is my writing. Thank you, God, for this space where I have all the power. Sorry though, God, because I think I'm about to fuck you over.
Then I become God the only place I can. On the page." - This Gorgeous Game

I blog because it is the only way I make things happen.

I blog because empty pages are the only place I can become my own god.

I blog because it makes all the crazy things that have been happening to me seem like a story.

I blog because I like having people read the words I put together.

I blog because sometimes people would rather not ask me straight about how I've been doing, so I give them words on this space for them to know.

I blog because there are people who are feeling, or laughing at my misery, and either way, at least they can relate to my emotions.

I blog because when I've been wronged, I wish to tell my side of the story, even if they still think I am the bad guy at the end of it.

I blog because it makes me think that I have forgiven the people who have hurt me or were putting all the blame on me for their own hurt.

I blog because it is my way of sharing my thoughts and feelings with the wind, who has come and gone, now in the process of the latter, and I wish more than anything to talk to him.

I blog because he has kept his promise of reading my every post, and I am grateful for that.

I blog because I have made many friends through it, even though our conversations are technically just them listening to all my words from the other side of this screen.

I blog because it makes me feel like there is a constant audience reading, a train of support following me wherever I go, knowing all that is happening to me.

I blog because sometimes when you don't feel like talking, but you want people to know how you feel, you can just fill your thoughts into these empty pages that are easily accessible.

I blog because I get all kinds of reactions from people: admiration, pity, judgement, dislike, and it makes me feel alive, like I'm somebody.

I blog because writing all of this down makes it seem like the pain is over, even when it's not.

I blog because someday I will read these posts back and reminisce these memories, laugh at my past embarrassing moments, admire how my past self survived all that.

 The list goes on.

Whenever I open a new post, it's always for me. I want to record down a dream I had, or stupid metaphors that mean a lot to me, or a memory of time spent with someone I like.

Once it's posted, it's for everyone. I want people to get all kinds of emotions through the words I just typed out for myself. Get freaked out by my weird dreams, confused about my metaphors trying to understand them, go awww about my gushing towards a boy.

I blog for myself and for the people around me, including myself in the future.

And that's why I've been leaning towards blogging more than writing in my personal diary. I love my page, Solitary Author; she's a wall I can paint on with anything I like, a tree I can build a treehouse on and see the world, a stage where I am the only one everyone is looking at, a photo album where I can see how I've grown, a daughter I will take care of forever the moment she is born.

She's like a ghost I've been talking to from the moment I started writing in a diary when I was 7. A ghost whose soul has followed me from notebook to notebook and now resides in my blog. Kinda cool to think of it that way, heh.

Interesting people at the animal clinic

I visited my youngest cat at the hospital again today. It's just a little clinic at Kembangan where sick dogs and cats go.

When I came on Monday, he was a sad little thing, a cone wrapped around his head and dirt all over his mouth. He'd refused to eat and he didn't move much, not even to struggle when being manhandled. Never made a sound either.

There were other animals there too, mostly cats in fact. One had been admitted for having fits, this sad little orange and black local cat. Another was abandoned; being 19 years old, the owners decided to give up taking care of it and have passed that responsibility on to the vets.

While we were fussing over my cat, a couple came in to admit their cat as well. A Malay lady with an Angmoh husband and this fluffy Ragdoll cat. What a combination.

Surprisingly the Malay lady wasn't so stuck-up, and she talked to my aunt and I about all kinds of cat things. She told me about how her cat would just limp into your arms if you carried him; that's what the breed would do anyway. And her kitty is beautiful, those pretty boy kind.

I visited again today, and my kitty has made a vast improvement since then. My aunt and I arrived to see him so excitedly mewing the moment he saw us. He gobbled down his food and couldn't sit still, it was enlightening to see him so well again!

My youngest cat doesn't trust people so easily, and at home whenever he hears a stranger's voice he'd run and hide, not coming out til 2 hours later. But I could see how he's well acquainted with the vet already, how he actually mewed to her to carry him. It felt so nice to see him actually getting along with other humans (':

This man came in later, ordering some kind of vaccine stuff. While his orders were being processed by the vets he came over and said a hi to me as well as a rub on my kitty's head and a "Hey there, buddy."

He talked to us about a cat abuser at Beach Road, this old man who has killed more than 50 cats. Shocking, I know. He knew the killer, but the authorities wouldn't do anything about it because there wasn't enough evidence.

Thus, his cause called Save Beach Road Cats. I thought it was so admirable of him, to be standing up against this cat killer because even SPCA wouldn't do anything about it.

I'd met 3 new friends, all being breeds of cats I'd seldom seen in person. A Maine Coon who stared at me with huge green eyes; a Bengal cat who rolled around and locked my hand in both her paws; a Persian who stuck her paws out at me to pet her with that grouchy face of hers.

Later on, my aunt told me about the two nurses at the vet, these 2 girls from the Phillipines. Back home, they could qualify to be doctors, but they didn't get that kind of job here in Singapore.

But they didn't mind being just vets, their exact words being: "It's alright, a life is still a life." and they'd grown to be so passionate about these sick and abandoned animals that come onto their doorsteps every day.

I've met so many interesting people on just two visits. I find it amazing how a simple thing like love for a certain animal could bring people together.

The 3 players in the game of life

I used to be a Luke, a shy mimosa who curls up when touched.

I used to be someone who would look out the window to the outside world but not actually stepping out.
Too afraid to take chances, too afraid to admit I like something.
Keeping it to myself or going around it quietly without wanting anyone to see, even if I'm good at it.
Covering up my feelings by saying stupid stuff half the time.
Disappearing and appearing, like how the moon is sometimes full and sometimes new.

I am now a Leila, a flame with all the hope in the world.

I am someone with a destination but relishing the moments of the journey.
Entering and exiting the lives of many different people, making negative and positive impacts.
Giving all my time and effort for someone who isn't going to be a permanent comrade.
Inspiring others and ruining others' lives just as much, receiving happiness and anger.
Getting lost in order to find what I'm looking for.

When I die, I wish to be a Lauren, a name that lingers.

I wish to be someone who is loved by those who matters.
A tune that plays in people's heads, filling them with regret for the unexpected loss.
Words that spill out in sadness and grief, inflicting the magic of letting go.
A person that not everyone knows even exists but is remembered by those who do.
A song that would mean a lot only to those who truly understand it.

____

Luke is a friend who keeps staying rooted where he is.
Leila is a character in a road trip book, driving endlessly and still looking for her purpose.
Lauren is a song about a girl who died in a car crash.

Even though they have nothing in common, 3 completely different people far apart from each other, I can't help but link them this way. Like they're the perfect examples of the stages of life. And yes, everyone is a Leila right now, at least until they die.

I really need to find something to do other than coming up with these far-fetched philosophies, oh my god.

[Leila is from Let's Get Lost by Adi Alsaid; the song title is Lauren's Song by Breathe Carolina.]

Conversation with a reflection

After years of being in each other's heads, we finally meet.

...Why aren't you looking at me? I'm right here. You've been so curious as to how I look like but now you refuse to even stand up.

As cliche as it sounds, you're stronger than this. Can you stand up, girl? 

You're not even 20 yet and you're already so tired. You've fallen in love with the idea of being alive, and yet here you are refusing to even live up that love.

Such a shame, isn't it? There you were, giving all the love and trust that you had, to everyone you met, whether or not they deserved it. You forgot to save any for yourself, of course you're so tired out right now.

You're a strong person but that doesn't mean you won't break. Stop being so selfless, letting everyone have what you have and refusing to take anything of theirs. Didn't you say, "If I give you a piece of me, and you give me a piece of you, then nobody is really broken"? You're leading yourself to your own falling apart.

...Still refusing to stand up?

...You were right. Sometimes the best way to move on is to go back to where you came from. Just like how you returned to your parents to move on from your precious wind.

Right now, you need to talk to your old friends. You've realised how cruel the people who you thought to be your friends were; they didn't return your love, they made you out to be the bad guy... Go back to your old friends.

They may be busy, but it's worth a shot. Send a text asking how they are, call them up asking for a lunch or something. Anyone. Anyone other than the 'friends' you have loved the past 4 months. 

Stand up, girl.

She grabs my wrist.

Stand up and look at me.

She holds my chin and makes me face her. I close my eyes.

You're a fucking tyrant and you're gonna get through this.

I let out a cruel laugh. That's what I've been telling myself.

That's what I've been telling you.

Go back to where you came from. I'd return as far back as my mother's womb if I could, start all over from my very first breath. But you can't do that. You move forward from difficult times by going back, and you go back to your precious moments by moving forward.

You're not alone in this. Not ever. See how you've laughed so much with your mom and aunt the past week even with all the problems within your family. See how you've enjoyed your 5-star view at Ion Sky with the love of your life even with half of another shithead in your heart.

And most of all see how you've continued loving everything around you, the sky and the trees and the roads, even after all the shit everyone's put you through. 

You're gonna get over this. You're gonna be an amazing daughter, aunt, wife, mother. Heck you're already an amazing person if you'd just stop giving so much of your flame away to others. Now stand the fuck up.

She gives my wrist a hard grip and pulls me, forcing me onto my feet.

I jerk awake. It's 6 in the morning. The mysterious bruise I've had on my wrist the past 2 weeks has faded from an ugly purple to a murky yellow.

Pride without an audience

It's raining non-stop and it intensifies my misery. The people around me are expressionless, as if the presence of rain is nothing to them. Maybe they are used to it, learnt to live alongside the sky's tears.

I also seem to be the only one getting bothered by the cold, decked out in my thickest cardigan and a beanie, while everyone else has sleeves rolled up and hair tied in ponytails.

Someone has an umbrella propped up above me, protecting me from the rain. I can't see who this person is because everytime I try to see, I am pushed on the shoulder to face forward.

I try again to see who this stranger is, and this time he or she doesn't make me look forward anymore. Instead, he simply takes away the umbrella and walks away. He shields himself from my view with his umbrella, and I don't chase him. I've pushed away the one act of kindness in this dampness.

I continue walking in the rain, everyone else around me still with their emotionless faces, dripping wet with raindrops or silent tears, I do not know.

My sneaker splashes against a puddle. I look down and kick the water around with the foot of my sneaker, and continue on ahead.

Another puddle, and this time the water reaches my ankle. My sneakers and socks are uncomfortably soaked, so I remove them. I continue on ahead, barefoot.

The rain keeps coming, until water is to my knees.

I look around to see everyone with the same expressionless faces. I hide in the water and remove my jeans. I keep walking, the dirt of the rainwater tickling my exposed thighs.

The rainwater now covers me to my neck. I remove my cardigan and t-shirt, and I am completely naked, only the dirt and grime of the rainwater covering me.

I am below the surface now. The water pushes me forward, and I allow it, letting myself float wherever it wants to take me.

Everyone else continues walking even underwater. I am the only one floating, and I am not even ashamed of having every inch of my skin exposed like this.

Because nobody is watching.

Here I am, getting along with my fear, and nobody is watching. I am the only one floating while everyone continues walking with vacant eyes.

____

I wake up to the pitter-patter of the rain against the window.

Please don't touch my family

My grandfather had a fall. I rushed straight to Changi General Hospital after school, where he was still at A&E. My mom was already there, and she stuck an "A&E Visitor" sticker onto my shirt. All kinds of thoughts ran through my mind, from "he gave me my name" to "why are You doing this to me?"

My dad was there, and my grandfather was fine apart from the constant shivering. He's 84 years old, but I won't accept it if he goes too soon. At the moment, and maybe even til now, I hated God for giving our family a new member and then threatening the life of another.

On the same day, my niece was sent to the KK Hospital, 2 days after she was sent home. She had some problems with her health, I don't know how to explain it really... I didn't ask what was wrong with her, I just had to see her.

We weren't allowed to see her yet, not until yesterday. Even that was just for a few minutes of my mom holding her, all of us making a fuss of her mouth, me rubbing her cheek. She didn't even have her name yet and already a problem had came to. I have so much to say to her even though she's only a week old.

Today, after a night at the hospital by my grandfather's side, I got home at Pasir Ris to take a nap. I awoke to my grandmother calling me, telling me one of our cats had been sent to the hospital. 

I was getting sick of that word. Hospital. I kept asking God why's He sending everyone there.

Our youngest kitty has a problem with his buah pinggang, and also has kencing manis. Such human problems, It explained why he'd been going to his litterbox so much recently. 

My aunt sent me a picture of him, looking so miserable with a cone around his neck and his lower body shaved of all his fur. A tub filled with blood sat at his butt, and I remembered Grandma mentioning how he'd peed a lot of blood.

So much chaos in a week. 

It's too much. 

Dear God, can You not touch my family anymore?

Be it the niece who has changed my brother's life,

the grandfather who gave me my name,

the cat who always cried for my attention

please don't touch my family anymore.

I'd go through all the pain and stress of my own problems again and again, 

be it school or friendships or love

You can take my life too

if You would just leave my family alone.

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.