Wednesday, September 21, 2016

city of angels

It's been a month since I turned twenty, three weeks since I got here, and a week since I moved alone to the most foreign place I've ever been. Age has changed nothing. The few weeks here have me somewhat acclimatized to walking on the right side of pathways. Being alone has made me feel so many different emotions which in the end, boil down to feeling close to nothing at all. Akin to how all colors of the spectrum converge to give white.

I'm not yet comfortable with being uncomfortable, but that isn't what bothers me the most. Instead, it's how I don't seem to recognize myself anymore. Shy, quiet, cool, aloof, these are among the most common impressions I used to give off, and also how I am used to carrying myself and being perceived as. But these days I just don't feel like myself anymore. And I'm not sure whether or not I like that.

I don't know what I'm doing, but I try to be nice and try to be a better person, while figuring out life. Just a tiny being on a huge campus among swarms of people, trying to stay afloat.

Wednesday, August 24, 2016


Don't apologize. Don't say sorry, not because you aren't, but because you might not deserve forgiveness of any sort. Don't say it just to make yourself feel better.

It's not right to just pop up out of nowhere and say "I'm sorry for everything that I've done". It's not right to dig up memories that someone else painstakingly buried just to get a peace of mind for yourself. It's not alright to say "Hey I thought of you when I heard this song" after disappearing for months. It's not okay to say "I hope you're doing fine" or "I'm happy you're well" without any context.

Don't unearth things that should be left untouched. Don't even brush against scars.

Monday, August 22, 2016


It felt odd seeing two candles on a birthday cake that was supposedly mine. For a moment it didn't feel like it was mine, before it registered in my mind that yes, I am twenty. I have everything I could ever ask for and more, and I for that I am so thankful. 

I get afraid when I'm so happy and when life is this blissful, but for now I am just happy and content. 

Monday, August 15, 2016

ipoh adventures pt II

I was really, really hoping we wouldn't get nabbed because the streets were quiet and the shops were closed and the only souls in sight were several office-wear-clad folks whom I presumed just got off work at the banks. 

Siu Ching wants to be the first concubine because then, she can have flowers and color and pretty things.

We spent a good half hour taking photos at this charming shop front.

Can't decide which I'm worse at: being in front of the camera, or behind it.
First wife: no flowers, peeling paint, faded miserly lanterns.

Third wife/second concubine: no flowers, decent paintwork, torn umbrellas.
Siu Ching has her priorities right.

Friday, August 05, 2016


As I am typing this, I am tucked comfortably in my bed with a set of fresh sheets. I helped mom change them this afternoon. My pillow case smells like freshly done laundry, and I can barely stop sniffing it.

It is rather unsettling to think that this will be the last time I'll be enjoying fresh bed sheets in my room, at home, at least till next year. Perhaps it sounds silly. But once it turned August, I kept seeing the mundane things in my everyday life as luxuries I won't have anymore in a month's time. I won't have people who unconditionally love me just a room away; Bandit just outside the door, waiting to be petted and let into the house on a hot day; distilled water to drink; family and friends just a phone call or drive away. Suddenly, leaving everything I've known for the whole of my life doesn't seem so appealing anymore.

That doesn't mean I'm regretting though. At least, not the decision to kick myself out of my comfort zone and leave home. Regrets are aplenty in another department.

I wonder if I'll be able to call it home. For the whole 1.5 years that I had spent in a hostel, never once did I refer to it as my 'home'. I couldn't, simply because it wasn't home and didn't feel like anything remotely close to home to me. I always looked forward to Fridays, when I could finally go home and collapse into my bed at 5pm till the next morning. It always felt safe, and sleep always came much easier.

I don't know how I'm going to do this. I can't just make a phone call and have someone pick me from my dorm and bring me home for a night on a bad day. Not that I ever did, but you know, paranoia. I'll have to say good night when the sun has barely rose for a couple of hours where I am. I'll have to learn how to survive alone, which I used to think I was great at, but later found out that I suck at it.

This process seems inevitable though, given the extremely sensitive and sentimental being I am. Well, I guess this is another time where I'll say, "Many others survived, so will I."