Found this note deep in the Draft section. Didn’t post it then because the pain was still raw. And so I kept it contained. I’m good at that, hiding emotions so people can’t see, can’t tell. All is well- on the outside. Nobody knows what goes on beneath the smiles. But years have passed, and it’s long enough that I feel like I can share now. So here it is. — Every beep and blip means different things in the ICU. There’s the cardiac monitoring alarm that goes off when oxygen level drops; the tone gets lower and lower, it’s…
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Hello. I’m back. Long hiatus. A friend said I shouldn’t ever promise to write sooner, because I never do, and it would just seem like yet another broken promise. Which is bad form. So, no more. I shall write whenever I fancy. I had a mini panic attack the other day knowing that I’m running out of Marmite soon. Thankfully that problem was solved by my bestie who visited the UK, procured them, and mailed two jars to me. Trust your bestie to know what you want and need most. For those who don’t know what Marmite is, it’s a…
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I lied. I said I’ll write more, but so many things happened since my last post, and I couldn’t muster enough energy to put my thoughts and emotions into words. Or maybe I just didn’t want to. Words elude me when sadness overwhelms, and all I want to do is just to run and hide. I dreamed of a 20-foot Sandman who was chasing me everywhere. No matter how far I run, he’d still get to me. Friends and family tried to protect me by allowing me to build secret passageways underneath their living quarters, and eventually I managed to…
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The past year has somewhat gone by in a haze. Bits and pieces surfaced as I tried to recall how I made it through the year. Lots of stress eating, some heartaches, and definitely a lot of repressed memories. It’s not all that bad: there were lots of booze, plenty of laughter, too much ice cream and duck fat fries than I cared to remember, and tears, the latter of which I hate to admit. It’s the Asian culture that I grew up in that I can’t yet shake away, that taught me- tears are for weaklings. And a weakling…
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If a tree fell with a thud, but no one heard it, has it really fallen? If words of truth were written but no one read it, are they still legit? If one was loved by another but he/she alone was utterly blind to it, has it really happened? Does it still count? Humans. Most of the time we seek evidence, trust only our senses and what we can concretely grasp, especially when it’s in our favour or when it’s convenient to us. When it’s not, or when it’s too complicated/overwhelming, we either a) choose to believe whatever we were…
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It was a rainy day but she needed to get out. Nothing could stop her, not the thunder or lightning, or flash flood warning texts. It was that kind of day. On days like those, her yellow boots seemed to have a life of their own, and so off they went, taking her on a path that she had never come across. But she could hardly care. Or maybe she didn’t even notice. If every thought process, every neuronal activity makes a sound, you’d hear the cacophony of clicks, buzz, and ticks inside that skull, going a little overboard not…
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I used to reflect on the year before, and making new resolutions for the ‘new’ year, either here or in my journal. But for the past few years I haven’t really been keeping track of whether I checked off the list of stuff to do. Part of it is because it’s been the same resolutions, and they’re more about self-building than a concrete thing to achieve. So this year I wrote myself a note on the eve of New Year’s Day, and I thought I’d share it here, mostly just as a reminder for myself if things get tough this…
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It’s halfway past the first month of this ‘new’ year, and I’ve been seriously contemplating shutting down this blog. In fact, maybe stop writing altogether. Or maybe start a new blog. With a clean state, no history, no past. And then maybe I can reinvent myself, be anonymous. Be anyone I want to be but myself. But the thing about new blog / new year / new self is this- it’s just an illusion. I can start a new blog every year, with a new personality/character, but for all we know- I’m still the same person. And unless there’s a…
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Why hello there?! Hellooooo… (hello oo ooo ooo…) I can almost hear the echo that bounces off the virtual wall of this blog, which reflects the emptiness and dead space in between (and quite aptly so), thanks to yours truthfully for not updating this blog for so many months. It feels so strange to be typing away on the keyboard, and leaving traces of thoughts on this white space, pausing every now and then with the blinking cursor waiting eagerly to move on. I forget how it feels like to put down thoughts in words. Not like this, at least.…
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平时很少用中文写部落格的我 （uh 不对，是 从来 没用过中文写的我）那晚 看了《那些年，我们一起追的女孩》之后，突然好像在这儿乱涂一两句别人说， 拥有过类似暧昧的感觉的人，都会深同感触而我，却因为没有属于我自己的故事而深深的感慨想想当年 17 岁的我，好像缺少了什么是我让青春白白溜走了吗？是我在很想闯入成人的世界里的当时，失去了那一点点容许我天真无知的时空么？有人明白我在写什么吗？ ＊＊＊ 时光是一去不回头但就算时间真的能倒流我想，凭我了解自己性格的我应该也不会改变我所做过的选择所以其实 也没什么好感慨的虽然，有过一段自己的 “沈佳宜” 或是 “柯腾” 的故事好像蛮令人羡慕的但错过了，也不差啦 毕竟，每个人都有自己精彩的故事我的故事，少了这么一个特别的人但却多了更多很特别，要好的朋友也让我有更多的精神和时间去关心其他对我非常重要的人事物做人嘛，开心就好！:)
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Throughout our lives, people come and go all the time. Some became friends and stayed on as significant people in our lives; those are the ones who will always stay with us till the end of time. Some were just acquaintances we barely knew or remembered before we all moved on; either we didn’t care enough to know more about them and vice versa, or the time of contact was so brief there wasn’t enough opportunity to get to know each other more. Yet others were people we cared very much and would like to keep in touch but alas…
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Have you ever encountered a situation whereby you wish to keep certain things to yourself because, technically speaking, you can and you have the right to: it’s your personal life and your ultimate decision to let it be known, or not. Yet, the reality that we live in, governed by certain societal norms, has it that we should share with others our personal stories or incidents or what-have-you’s – because we live in a society, and we’re all connected to each other, no (wo)man is an island, or whatever reasons to justify such sharing. And perhaps there is a physiologic explanation to it…