Monday, September 10, 2012


Completely different to my previous content, 
this is something I wrote and archived back in April.
It's about losing someone toxic before you lose yourself too. 

It was one of those gloomy, pouring days at the end of the week and just about boarding the train, I bumped into a frail woman doing her best to control the double pram and the sleeves of two young boys. It took a moment to register in my mind that this woman was not yet a woman, but a girl I used to attend school with before I moved towns.

She too, scanning me from head to toe, took a while to recognise my features and slowly began to open her mouth. Appeared as though something was caught in the back of her throat, her lips formed but no words seemed to sound. Evident that there wouldn't be any, at least not for a while, I took a step forward. At this very moment, the possibility of escaping became more and more prominent by the second. It was something indescribable, something insidious that anchored me to the ground. With a moment of realisation, it became apparent common sense was dampened in favour of my emotions once again. I was dazzled, puzzled, mesmerised at what was being displayed in front of my very own eyes.

Just as I did so instinctively, came a series of disjointed sounds.
" look good, y'know since last time n all."
Feeling like I had aphasia myself, I started to articulate words that may not have been possible all those years back.
"You better look after the life you bring into this world. If they ever get hurt in any shape or form, help them. You have to start over, treat them properly. You have to treat them better than you treated me."

Shaken, I took a steady step backwards and exited the carriage waiting for the next train to arrive. Her reflection in the distanced glass still lingers long after her presence.

"I don't hold grudges nor bitterness, it's just that certain people 
no longer deserve the person I am or once used to be.
...And I'll continue to dance between the raindrops because seasons change
but very few people do."

Saturday, May 19, 2012

Page Inception.

My vision was getting hazy just as the lines on the page were starting to shift. I told myself that if I continued to stare long enough, they would jump out at me, grab me by the neck and squeeze every oxygen molecule out of the lousy respiratory lungs I have come to acknowledge as my own.

"STOP!" The sharp pain shooting up my fingers and down my spine was an indication that my hand had somehow managed to land near the ink blot where I left off. The back and forth false motions stopped as I angrily seized the wire bound book off the desk and fixed my entire focus in the form of a steady gaze at a discoloured yellow area near the imperfect, jagged spirals.

Finally aware of the plastic seat enveloping me, my whole body started to sink deeper in the position of space within the caliginous half-lit room. Quivering, in a disjointed and shaky yet indignant voice, I spoke. 
Wait up young one...they'll be here soon.

My love will not be my enemy,
not now. Not yet.~

Saturday, December 10, 2011

Late Bloomer.

Taken in my backyard a few weeks ago,
a bunch of jasmine flowers before the angry storm
had a chance to hit my window pane.

There was a large portion of my existence where people viewed me as a delicate flower that needed protecting. It was as if they plucked me from the awakening fields in early daylight and decided that I, out of all the other plants and weeds was the one who needed preserving. The most common phrases they dragged out and unintentionally categorised formed basic patterns that quite often managed to retain their original thorns despite being slightly varied.

"This film is too scary for you; maybe we should watch something else."
"This game may be a little too rough on you, best if you just sit out on this one."
"You wouldn't be interested in science; creative subjects are more in your chosen field."

Every time this occurs, I freeze momentarily and swallow because I eventually get tired of always having to constantly prove myself. There's this protruding inner voice that gets dampened in favour of the more logical and rational thoughts hidden below the layers of confusion and doubt.

For as long as I can remember, I have always leapt before I looked.
Most of the time, it works and it feels absolutely amazing. However when it doesn't, it burns and penetrates much further than skin deep. Maybe it's because we are unknowingly conditioned to think this way. To believe that we are 'tougher than this' and that every single person has a chance at whatever it is that we set our minds to. Perhaps this is the very reason why I have an alarming mental condition where I hate being wrapped in cotton wool all the time because I truly believe that I'm invincible.

Even so, I can't help but wonder how long it would take me to fall out of this gradual build up of self-inflicted illusions. When that heavy dew evaporated, it allowed me to see clearly. A simple task I hadn't been able to master as of late. I guess I've learnt through this monotonous process of living to take it lightly because I'm not superwoman. I'm an ordinary mortal who needs the occasional protection from her hero.

Within these past few weeks, I've learnt that
anything has the ability to stigmatise you if you look deep enough.
For now, I'd rather just scratch the surface.

Thursday, October 13, 2011


The first time you listen to a song, you are merely absorbing what is being presented. The second time, you start to subconsciously pick up minor accents and strains you never noticed prior in the composition. By the third listen and that point onwards, it evolves into something rather tremendous; a rich experience in which you become hopelessly entangled in.

Tearing yourself apart again, you start to seek out relations and connect small aspects to those that are similar but yet so distant to that of your waking life. Realising that this has become something much more significant than just another song on a playlist, you are ultimately choosing to hear what 'you' hear as the thoughts and opinions of the person who first recommended it to you slowly fades into the distance.

That was when I met you. From afar, I made an impetuous assumption that you were just a seemingly ordinary person who struck the same familiar chords in me, banging to the same over processed beats, and choosing to articulate words that were so frequently overused, any grasp on meaning were all but lost. Oh how looking back at it now, I was completely off the charts.

Though these pieces of music resonating on the radio rapidly replaces another in this fast paced world, like a timeless record, you will never get old.

Sometimes it may seem like you are clouded by so much doubt
and other people's misjudgements, that taking the first step into unfamiliar 

territory can seem daunting.
I know you're leaving in a few weeks, and when you do get back,
I'll be waiting for you on the other side.


Wednesday, August 31, 2011

Connected Fibre.

One of the most beautiful yet irritating aspects in life is not knowing where we'll end up next. 
It's like as though we are all pieces of thread being gradually spun on a spindle as the creator contemplates where to map us out, or rather, fit us in. In a spontaneous moment, being lurched forward or tugged back by force will eventually slip into routine. A familiar sense that once we experience something great, downfall will soon shortly follow.

We all exist for a reason. Though to a certain extent we can choose to be individuals, everything decided along this winding path is merely a culmination of circumstances with one decision impacting the next. So do we really have the option to pick, mix and add tassels to situations we find difficult? When did it become an indispensable obligation to decorate unruly elements just so others can find it easy on the eye?
I can't tell you that, but what I do know is that a certain scenario may arise in the future or be revisited where we as individuals are presented with an opportunity to tie the final knot.
At the end, we can look back and witness everything that has influenced us in the past, every minor stray has their rightful place.

Colourful knitting wool
I have run out of usable pictures D:
Referring picture link:

Everyone of us, every single fibre, we're all connected.
It's a small world out there, we have to stick together.

Wednesday, July 27, 2011

Journalist For A Day.

 Please take note that this post has been saved in drafts for quite a number of weeks as I have fallen victim to email password hacking. 

The lecturer who was a fill in for the session, went through a slide show with various questions concerning individual insights towards the media, and thus was fairly interactive with journalism enthusiasts like myself. The most predictable question was probably the traditional print newspapers vs the digital online version. Like the novel vs eBook debate, and/or the Film vs Digital debate, though the longevity of these so called prehistoric mediums cannot be guaranteed popularity wise, there will always be a demographic who prefer the tactile aspect of physically experiencing the actual object in their hands.

Out of all questionable theories raised that day, I was particularly most excited about the third bullet on the slideshow: "Who here has a blog, or is a blogger?" My hand shot up like a meteor hurtling towards Planet Earth as I was getting ready to memorise the profiles of my lovely peers seated in the auditorium In order to have a friendly exchange session of blog URLs and new potential readers/followers after the workshop.
"Wow just one!" The lecturer was astonished as I was. If I had not been sitting in the front row, away from the elevated seats of the auditorium, I would have prolonged my contribution and been significantly less enthusiastic about being abandoned by teenagers.
a little boat down at the local beach.

Tonight I've learnt that taking a shower in the dark is one of the most 
peaceful things you can do after a long day of school/work.

Saturday, June 18, 2011

Marco Polo with Carousels.

A photograph of a pyracantha branch
It never occurred to me how beautiful and vibrant the colouring of this is. 

If you are able to sit here and decipher these words, it is apparent that I'm still alive and haven't put in a request for the giant carousel we call the world to stop spinning on its axis in order for me to hop off and momentarily take a breather (well not yet anyway). This past week has been a string of coloured blur passing by so quickly that I had trouble grasping the concept
of chronological time frames in an on-going sequence.
I was in this exact environment a few weeks back with only curt breaks in between, with the same mundane four slightly decorated walls caving in on me as I perched myself behind my desk; Attempting to cram in as much information as I could without being cautioned as to why my cranium was expanding in all the wrong places.

Examinations are finally over ( for now...) leading me to come to the conclusion that neglecting the things I love most passionately for this cause, even for these past few weeks was too much for me to handle. One could even say that I was omitting the fact that it was these routine yet fulfilling tasks were what kept me sane throughout my existence.

One of the many examinations I had to sit was Biology. Seeing how I skipped a year, I figured I had to have some sort of preparation before the big day in the form of a lecture at a university where extensive members of my family bred. Seeing how my mother was terrible with directions, I told her I'd meet her in the car park when the seminar came to an end. As it turns out she listened and did so... at the WRONG car park 2.5k/s away. I spent an hour on the phone fearing that my battery might die at any given moment while half heartedly, attempting a game of Marco Polo with stunned university graduates passing by; blindly asking them to guide my poor mother to me all the while panicking at not being able to get in last minute "studying" for my linguistics exam the next day.      

Exams have also left me in a state of forgetfulness with a fusion of laziness as I tried to create a "nourishing meal" out of microwavable oats resulting in the consistency of
"clumps of long expired Playdoh" with taste to match.   

...Another face palm worthy moment was when I asked my best mates where to buy a bus ticket when the bus arrived. - On the bus you idiot! they chorused. 
Who needs enemies when you have friends like those?