I used to draw octopuses i class. This cartoonish drawing. I came up with it in Mrs Dan's class in sec two I think. When I was bored dead, I just scribbled all over my book. Anyway, I drew like 40 of them on a foolscap paper - they came in a variety of shapes and sizes. After staring at it for a long time, I realised it was freaky. They're cuter individually.
Cute things are unlike what they seemed when they're presented in a huge group - I finally agree.
On the first day of Christmas, my true love sent to me a patridge in a pear tree. On the second day of Christmas, my true love sent to me four calling birds and a patridge in a pear tree. On the third day of Christmas, my true love sent to me nine ladies dancing, four calling birds and a patridge in a pear tree...
Oh wait, am I getting the order of my true love's gifts mixed up? Shucks.
She whispered, half questioning, he's here, didn't you know?
Trying to hold back the burning urge to jump and run, throwing my arms around you. I walked over as slow as my adrenalin driven legs could muster and whispered the calmest greeting I could. What you probably couldn't tell was that the grin I carried on my face was initially a frown caused by the already subsiding headache only minutes ago.
I said it feels funny without the leather thingy thingy.
But I got used to it. Leather strap or not, the Besson gives me a better tone. I figured that the leather straps and that polished golden shine was unnatural, fake - of a totally superficial nature. I spent a lot of time and hurt my fingers many times just trying to get those straps back into place. Definitely ain't worth it.
I like the way my Besson is - solid, big, safe, strong, slightly unpolished and downright sexy.
I hate squirrels. They're so jumpy and fast and the bite. Well, it's not that I've ever been anywhere near one to know all that but I see their big fat ugly teeth and I just, know. The bite, and all they want is fruit and nuts. Plus, the run really fast. After biting, of course.
Try setting a forest on fire. You'd see them fled, like lightning-fast.
I know you I walked with you once upon a dream. I know you The gleam in your eyes is so familiar a gleam Yes, I know it's true that visions are seldom all they seem. But if I know you, I know what you'll do You'll love me at once the way you did once upon a dream
She says the last time we talked, Mister Smith, you reduced me to tears. I promise you that won't happen again.
I used to binge a lot. Like everynight - a cup of noodles or a snack or two, complemented with a cup of Coca-Cola and sometimes, if lucky, maybe a slice of cake. They came with silly excuses like bad moods. I actually put on weight and grew a tummy from all the late night binging.
Tonight, I won't - but, this time, not because the person you used to be told me not to.
His excuse was that he just didn't feel like anymore.
Remember when you felt so pissed that your head felt like it was gonna burst and you could feel the heat rushing to your face? When you could scream at the first person who spoke to you and you could punch the first person who came along and touched your shoulder?
I'm thankful I have you around, or I'd have exploded. That's why I love you.
She said this is the first time I'm actually nervous about a concert.
I've been nervous about many things - debate competitions, Singapore Youth Festival, MICA Dream Art Studio exhibition, AMBience concerts. Even when I was giving my kids the certificates on stage, my stomach flipped and flopped with excitement and anxiety.
She sings I'm helpless, I'm yearning. Like putty in your hands.
I'm floating aimlessly, or at least it feels that way. My visions unable to focus and my mind's drifting. I try to concentrate on the words - plate tectonics and something. I can't really make sense of it. I feel like I'm in a daze, a permanent surreal daze. Maybe I haven't gotten enough rest the past few days.
They sing cause you give me strength, you give me hope.
My heads spinning. I'm guessing it could be the Singapore heat or perhaps I've been staring at the ceiling fan for too long and it's taken effect. Or perhaps I really caught a bad flu from Japan. Oh! My windows not open - that might be causing the overheating. Damn.
Cause you give me someone to love, someone to hold.
I wonder when her craving for bananas actually stops because each time she sees a banana, she goes loco. The hunger in her eyes just radiates and burns. The moment it's sliced nicely and place on the floor for her to access, she charges towards it and gobbles everything down.
I doubt she'll survive without bananas in her life.
The crowd cheers and starts to stand, the applause rings in my ear as the spotlight shiens down on us. The standing ovation goes on for a minute or two and Mister Lim takes his leave backstage. As we continue stand, I turn to Geraldine and smile, the warmth radiating within me.
The sniffing and bawling echoes as the scent of salty tears taints my skin. I see Kaede, eyes puffy and red, standing by her mum. Rachel's crying and hugging her host somewhere nearby as I walk with Min Ying towards Kaede's dad to make my last goodbye.
We're on the plane and the pressure in my ears annoys me so. I see Geraldine retrieve her camera and I quickly turn to pull Si Kai nearer as if it's become a natural reflex. The shutter clicks and Geraldine shows us the screen. I laugh as she turns the camera back around and we take, what is probably, our three hundred and twentieth photo together.
I miss all the sticky rice and seaweed for dinner.
When I came home, Snowy wanted to play. She was running and wagging her tail impossibly fast. It was her over enthusiasm that didn't seem right. Each time I tried to step into my room, she barked again and urged me to join her in play. I saw guilt in her bright, shiny eyes. When I turned back, I saw my teddy bear, Cornelius on the ground.
Stinking of her drool and wet from her saliva, did she hope that I wouldn't scold her? The moment I turned back to her, she ran. But the guilt and shame was burning so intensely within her that I could see it through her eyes. She licked my hand apologetically, but what's done is done - my Sasha bear, my Cornelius needs a bath soon.
I wonder if she saw the disappointment in my eyes. I know I saw it in your's, but I just couldn't find the right words.
When the world tells you to step away and not go further, to turn away and never look back, what makes you go on? Why would you go on? Why would anyone travel into the region of the Bermuda Triangle despite all the stories of mysterious disappearances and beliefs of witchcraft causes? Why, when the whole world tells you no?
Someday we'll know if love can move a moutain. Someday we'll know why the sky is blue.
I wrote about rolling over my sister's toes with a walker before. So much about her because I spent more time with her when I was a kid than with anyone else - Daddy and Mummy were working and my brother was already in Secondary School when I was six.
So many things I remember that revolved around her - there was once when it came her birthday and I spent days picking out beads to put together a necklace that had her fullname pieced together with pink, blue and purple cube beads with alphabets on all four sides. I was five or six I think, she was ten.
I was incredibly excited to give it to her and when she took it, she forced a smil and thanked me, barely reciprocrating the enthusiasm. I couldn't understand and finally was told that it was something she'd never wear because it looked like a doggy collar. I cried, and still insisted it was absolutely pretty. Hilarious.
Even the time when I playfully plucked her bra strap just for the sound effect. I was probably nine or ten, she was fourteen. I remember lots of screaming and shouting and then from my mum too. I think I got a slap, I can't really recall. But I didn't understand why I was being rude for doing so. Oh, but there was so many more silly things I did...
I can't stop listing all the silly memories out. Too many to count. And, on top of that, after that birthday, I vowed that I'd never give anything handmade to my sister as a gift again. Incredibly amusing when I do recall now... I wonder if she still has that necklace, unworn but rusty, lying around somewhere. Many silly things - kid or not.
Same person, but different kid, who rolled over her toes.
No, they ain't family. Not even biologically related, not even close. Nothing can be weighed in importance - ask me to choose between family and them and it'll be extremely hard. But they bring me joy and comfort and love, no doubt. Just like my family. I can't weigh my love; can anyone's love even be weighed?
Kill your loved one with your own bare hands or pray that he/she lives and doesn't suffer a slow, painful death?
Each time I bring Snowy down, the moment the lift doors open, she'd charge out. At times, when I don't hold her back, she looks like she just wants to run free. But, more often than not, she'd pause even before the maximum length of the harness is reached and turn back, trotting obediently back to my side.
I guess the sweet taste of freedom excites her but she knows better than impulsive, thoughtless wants.
In my dream, this morning, I'm on the floor, face-down. My head's throbbing from the fall and the arrows in my back are stinging my skin and the pain burns. Felt like I was on the verge of death. Alike the way I felt when I had to say goodbye, when I had to turn my back on you and run.
It was a tunnel that was deep, and wide. A single pin-drop would've amplified to the average volume of voices. In a moment of absolute euphoria and amazing ecstasy, our voices resounded within as if in a concert hall. Our smiles reflected on each other's faces, in each others arms.
They sang Happy Birthday to you, Happy Birthday to you...
The words rang like a congratulation speech, and announcement, declaration - which one, I couldn't quite tell. But as the words echoed and as the shock began to simmer down from the utter surprise, the urge to hug you and thank you both was growing immesely quickly. Vocal chords, disabled with shock, I just stood as the words repeated over again.
From behind the candles, I saw your smile on your glowing face. The best three people ever.
I had a nightmare. It left my skin ice-cold, myself cuddled up into a ball under the blankets and almost shivering. I recall waking up and, also, finding myself frowning. Although if I were to relate it out all over again, through words, it'd sound in the least frightening. But it is haunting, so very haunting.
Everything came in tinges of green, blue and red. It felt so real -the pain itself was overwhelmingly so. When I ran, out of fear, I could feel the impact of my foot against my ground travelling up my thighs, setting them on flame. The tears I cried felt like they were eroding a stream through my skin, it's fluid surface strangely coarse and scalding.
Even your arms, your embrace felt like it'd crush me, and that I'd crumble to the ground in tiny, little fragments.
Two winners for a competition - expanding podium or glory sharing?
It'd be cool to have two Michael Phelps or perhaps two Rafael Nadals or maybe two Venus Williams. The tournament would either have to expand their podium so that there'd be space for two or the contestants would just have to share the glory of standing on top of the podium. What'd it be?
And then I ask - did your heart break when you saw Nadal fall to the ground? Did your hearts break when Roger Federer teared over the lost of the Wimbledon Championships? Well, let's not talk about just sports stars only - will it break your heart to see your loved one fall from grace?
Was King Henry VII breaking from within as he watched Anne Boleyn get beheaded?
Never kept to a plan, never. Like today, for example, I went to Novena and met Geraldine. Our plan? Well, it was rough but it was something like an entire day of shopping and, for me, dress-trying. We kept it rough because, well I guess, both of us knew pretty well that the under-lying plan was to not follow the plan. Always that way.
I had a great time. Like when the train doors closed between us - me, still in the train laughing, Geraldine laughing and gesturing for me to take a train back. That was when we both turned to look at my hand that held her phone. I laughed, and thought, just when I was about to call her damnit.
Days without a plan - now, that's fun. Like boarding buses without knowing where you might end up. Any bus that comes along, or even the first bus that comes along. Stopping at a random stop that draws you, you find yourself in the middle of a park, having the time of your life. Yes, having the best time of your life.
I don't quite have any analogy here, now. I just came to blog - without much of a plan of course.
I have this stickers all over my sationery. These translucent stickers with my name printed wide and big across them: LIEW MIN JUN. In caps, yes. Some of them even have details like 'Please call [insert number here] if found.' But, no, don't mistake me. I didn't put them, Daddy does. He has a fetish for lables.
I prefer to display my posession in a more subtle way. Sometimes, I don't really notice how openly I display it till I'm told. Like how I wouldn't let anybody touch my phone. I almost screamed at Palwinder once for even touching it casually.
Is it gonna be Achluophobia, Lygophobia, Myctophobia or Scotophobia?
I went into the bandroom alone once, in the dark. Because I left my wallet on the section stand, and I was secondary one. When Mrs Lim was walking off with the keys, I just realised so I ran after her and she gave me 5 minutes. But because it was the first time I had the keys, I couldn't figure out how to open the door.
I tried all the different keys and ran out to find Mrs Lim for about two times. She asked me to hurry because she was busy. I ran back in and finally got it open. It was dark and I couldn't and didn't know how to turn on the light. I had to feel around in pitch-darkness. When I stretched out my hand, I couldn't even see it.
I could hear nothing but hollowness, still air and my heavy breathing that came out in shivers.
I never understood the theory or belief behind hooking pinky fingers when a promise is made. I mean, it doesn't have any sense in it? Is it a silent deal that if the promise is broken, a pinky finger is lost? My Daddy used to hook my fingers and promise me a sweet, lollipop, cheese balls or some snack. Till now, I still don't understand why.
Despite all that, I made another silent little promise - hooking pinky fingers way.
I want a portal gun; it's at the top of my christmas list.
If I had a portal gun I'd shoot one in school and every morning, I won't need to be late. If I had a portal gun, when Mister Lim screams at me, I'll shoot a portal below him so he'll disappear (temporarily). If I had a portal gun, I'll shoot one on my bed and one on your's. That way, we'll stay in each others arms all through the night - evading loneliness.
Snowy's a metre or two away, I hear her panting. My brother's heavy footsteps, too. Now, Snowy's walking and I hear her nails against the floor, still panting. Wei Qin's voice talking to my brother, my sister's soft whispering in my room, she's on the phone. My brother's mouse clicks.
I hear all, but still, no phone vibrating against the table top.
You know, those days when you go to school, expecting your exam papers back? And all through the day, you just wait and wait and wait for that final period, lesson when you know you'll get you marks back. But finally when it reaches, your teacher goes through lessons as per normal and you receive no paper.
It's like realising there's no pot of gold at the end of the rainbow when you get there.
I remember screaming you will come back right? You must!
I was four when my Mummy first sent me off to school - Kindergarten. I was all happy and pumped up. The first day of school, who wouldn't be anyway? Mummy was telling me about how brave my sister was for not shedding a tear when my Mummy sent her off on the first day. I told her I'd be braver.
When we got to the school, and Mummy kissed me on the forehead and said bye, I started to tear up. I clung on to her hand, I feared that she'd never return. I knew she would return, of course, she promissd me, and I trusted her. But there was still this fear. And I cried like a baby, the entire day. I refused to leave the window grilles till she returned.
He sings you're every line, you're every word, you're everything.
And the clock's ticking, the seconds flying by. But it still feels like it's gonna last so long, so forever. 24 hours in a day, 60 minutes in an hour and 60 second in a minute. 1,036,800 seconds in a day... Four and three-quarter more days till then. So that'll make it 4,924,800 more seconds.
The way you kiss me crazy. Baby, you're so amazing.
He sings you caught me off guard, now I'm running and screaming.
Remember how we'd use to run like crazy around when we were really young kids? I do. Sometimes for no apparent reason at all. Especially on the MRT trains with my sister! Oh, was that fun! If you do that now, of course, people will stare and categorise you under mentally unstable.
Oh, but if it's you making me run this way, I'd go on forever.
I used to ask Mummy, who put the clouds up in the sky?
She used to laugh and not be able to answer me, obviously. She'd tell me that no one put it up but I'd never take that as an answer. I remember asking who paint the entire sky blue too, if it was a group of people with really long ladders. Oh, I remember imagining people on high ladders with paint brushes in hand.
Today, it felt like I finally saw one man painting the sky.
One moment, I'm lying in a field of daffodils and runing my fingers across the yellow petals as they fall onto the lush green grass around me. I'm smelling the fragance and then... Suddenly, I find myself at home, by the fireplace, two hours later, differently clothed. I can't figure out what happened between then and now. I don't remember either.
I'd like to think I time travelled - moved through space.
I took the number of weeks (ninety) and multiplied it by 7 - seven days a week, am I not wrong? And, taking that the 16th of June, 2010 will be a wednesday, I added one day to 630. I also took the number of weeks that have passed (fourteen) and mulitplied it by 7 and added one day to it because it was a tuesday - 99 days.
Only ninety weeks and one more day till then, Min Jun.
Don't worry about that extra line That's creeping up upon your face It's just a part of nature's way To say you've grown a little more Trees have rings and thicker branches Kids shoes get a little tighter Every year we're getting closer to who we're gonna be It's time to celebrate the story of how you've come to be
Happy birthday my friend Here's to all the years we've shared together All the fun we've had You're such a blessing Such a joy in my life May the good Lord bless you And may all your dreams come true
So light a candle on your cake For every smile you've helped create For every heart and every soul You've known to grow a little more A few more pounds, a little more grey Don't count the years just count the way It takes a little time to go from water into wine Don't ever lose the wonder of the child within your eyes
Happy birthday my friend Here's to all the years we've shared together All the fun we've had It's such a blessing Such a joy in my life May the good Lord bless you And may all your dreams come true
She sings oh, it seems like I can finally rest my head on something real.
Yesterday, while I was trying to pack up the mess on my table in class, I lifted up my Social Studies file and, lo and behold, I found my missing coloured pencil. Two-faced, it sat there looking up at me as I laughed. It's green and brown surface, shining back at me.
I was thinking about how coincidental it was that I found it yesterday, on the way home on bus 52. I was even telling Chee Hao about it. It was then that I realised that I had found it but had, unmistakingly, forgotten to bring it home. And I still need it quite badly, more than ever.
It's as if you know me better than I've ever known myself.
I have this set of Staedtler coloured pencils that are dual tip pencils and have 36 colours, in total. Today, as I was arranging them by shades, I realised I had lost one coloured pencil. The one that has a lighted brown and green on it. I kind of need it. Perhaps I left it in the computer laboratory...
He said I had hoped to garner some comfort from you.
There was this one haunting moment quite some time ago when I cried myself silly by my brother's bedroom window. As my eyes welled up with tears, the street lights began to sparkle all around. It was beautiful but there was something haunting and depressing about it after that.
I never stand by the window when I'm upset anymore. I don't cry by that window. In fact, if I can, I don't cry at all because I, unfortunately, despise myself crying - it's weak. I never like standing by the window when I get too upset. You see, I was on the corded phone in the living room just now, baby.
I'm so sorry I couldn't or didn't seem to want to be there. It seems like I never am.
Why do we even have World Wonders? Because they mesmerize us with their beauty? Their amazing qualities and their strange existence? Like Stone Henge for example - it's mysterious creation that man have never managed to figure out.
I'll like to visit a site of a World Wonder one day. I wonder what it's like to stand before a the Taj Mahal, or the Pyramids of Egypt or the Eiffel Tower. I want to know what it feels like to gaze upon the impressive beauty of something that came together by itself.
Will it lifts your spirits and brings tears to your eyes? Will it be like watching the Recruits on the 13th of September, in a row, instrument in hand and playing their solo pieces with such self-confidence? Will it be like handing out certificates to the group of juniors you had brought yourself to love and care for?
Will it keep your head spinning with wonder? Will it be like having dinner at a fast-food chain and watching the most amazing coming together of four people - almost seemingly made for each other? Will it be like watching the sky turn dark while being held in the arms of someone you never knew you could love so deeply for the first time?
Out of the 10 Wonders of the World, I'm grateful that I've seen the best three.
Have you ever gone without your favourite food or snack for a week? Maybe even a day or two? Or perhaps four? If it's something you consume everyday, by the fourth, you'd probably be going crazy for it, just wanting to have one look, one taste of it. To have that familiar beautiful sensation in your mouth again, it's taste lingering.
It's torture, to not have what you want. Like yesterday, I began craving for pepperoni pizzas. Not something I have all the time but I just wanted one so bad! In the book I was reading, it wrote about pizzas and, gosh, how I drooled. I wanted to taste that sensational tomato paste in my mouth, with mozerella cheese. Mmmm...
If I could, right now, I'd run out of the house and get a pizza for myself. A nice, yummy, warm pizza with just tomato sauce, loads of mozerella and pepperoni. I can't of course, in this state. Anyway, Mummy wouldn't let me, because in this state, it ain't good for me. But I still want pepperoni pizza, no doubt.
There was this girl at the studio before who did a really really nice painting of flowers, abstract. It was a wonderful combination of colours - purple, white. Splashes of bold black lines and yellow. It was beautiful and I loved it. The beautiful amazing mix of oil and turpentine and paint.
But there was an imbalance of oil and turpentine. Something like - too must oil in the base-coat of the painting. After some time, it started craking and peeling and just, falling apart. The beautiful masterpiece was destroyed and gone. I recall Cynthia saying that she either couldn't fix it, or that it would be too difficult. And probably not worth the time.
They sing my Bonnie lies over the ocean, my Bonnie lies over the sea.
My darling lies over the ocean, so bring back my darling to me, to me. Bring back, bring back, bring back my darling to me, to me. Bring back, bring back, bring back my darling to me. Last night as I lay on my pillow, Last night as I lay on my bed, last night as I lay on my pillow, I dreamed that my darling was dead...
Bring back, bring back, bring back my Dar--- Bonnie to me, to me.
She sings the sound of our voices made us forget everything that ever hurt our feelings.
I pulled up the patch blanket that I wrapped myself around with and stretched over to adjust the fan - it was blowing so strongly. It made me feel really cold. When I stretched far enough, I saw that it was at medium speed and changed it to low speed instead. It still made noise though.
So I turned back and laid back down and fell asleep... Some people say I frown when I sleep, others say I sleep expressionlessly - like everybody else. What amuses me is that you are the only one who's seen me smiling in my sleep. It's strange, yet comforting to know.
What a girl wants, what a girl needs, whatever keeps me in your arms. I'm thanking you for being there for me.
I could remember dates really well. I remember those days that are important to me, those days that I constantly play over in my head again and again. Those days I'll never forget. Oh, but sometimes I just forget the dates and it agitates me so. Like now.
What was the date, hmm? May something, was it not? A day, which I could say, was rather memoriable and pretty much wonderful and almost, magical. I liked the big chair and the horsey! And running our hands through the different jeans of different sizes. That was fun.
I can't remember the date. Do you remember, to be begin with?
Snowy likes food, she'd eat anything nice from anybody - it doesn't have to matter who. Give a piece of banana to a stranger to feed her, and she'd eat it, without a doubt. She likes bananas and all sort of other food. Perhaps if the strange kept feeding her she'll even get to trust him.
She's so simple-minded, yes, but she's so happy at the same time. Well, I haven't caught her attempting suicide any time before, neither has she turned her back on the entire world. She never growls at any of us, telling us to stay away, without a reason. She will never bite us either, I trust that. But, on the other hand, I'll never know.
Never guess because people can get more unexpected than you'd ever expect.
Mummy made it simple with her classic one word answer - no.
I was supposed to sleep at 10.30pm, early. So I told myself at least. Just the way I was supposed to have completed all my trigo worksheets of the past few days by now. I had told myself I would do so, night after night - 13.1, 13.2, 13.3. I never really got to it huh.
Don't tell a blind man how beautiful the rainbow outside is, or how green the grass. Don't talk to a convict about guilt. Don't tell an orphan that he's missing out on the magnificence of the warmth of family. Don't talk to a beggar of luxurious living standards.
You won't see any blind man talking about darkness. You won't see a guilty convict talking about muder or crime. You won't see an orphan talking about parents or birthdays spent with families. You probably will never see a beggar boasting about the beauties of his grand mansion.
You don't need to tell a racer that they're missing out on the good things as they let the world rush by. You won't see a racer talk about grazing cows instead of blurs of white and black on green. They'll probably never understand, or want to stop to understand, the beauty of everything in its slow-mo.
Keep on running, speeding, fading away into the distance.
I was eleven when I got the scar on my right hand. A dog bite, actually. It was this big, white, mongrel dog. It had these huge black, innocent eyes. But it's owner was not all that great an owner, it didn't even have a proper leash - but only a rope, a blue rope, tied around its neck.
I told them that the dog had ran over to bite me on the hand. Truth is - I actually went up to the dog, I just never told them. I was afraid. Oh, how I remember the moment when my hand was in its mouth - too risky for me to pull and have my skin torn. I just stood and stared.
While I was in my uncle's Mercedes as he drove me to the doctor's, I looked out of the window as my mum asked if I was fine. I nodded, and suddenly tears started to stream down my face, my mum held me in her arms. She asked if the pain was too unbearable. I shook my head. She said she understood and told me to dry my tears, it's going to be fine.
He glared at me, saying I don't want to ever see you sitting next to her.
One pull-up did you say? Well, how I wish I could have been there to cheer you on, to have seen it for my own eyes. That'd be nice, just to see you. Two, did you say? How did you manage to, may I ask? The rest didn't get to do one, you say? So, how did you?
I had free-writing today, and wrote on favouritism.
I was walking home, thinking of Snowy, without any particular reason. It was then when I recalled the first time we brought her home - a puppy of 6 months, as tiny as my two open palms, fur as soft as cotton and temperament as timid and shy as she can ever be. She was adorable! It was love at first sight...
I was five and when I sat down with my knees propped up, she crawled right underneath and fell asleep. It was in the first hour of owning her when she did that and it melted my heart. I called for my sister who was busying herself with doggy websites in the studyroom.
She ran out and smiled at the adorable sight of the puppy asleep, for the first time, in my house. My sister gently sat herself next to me. This was when Snowy woke up and stared at her, confused and dazed. Still half-asleep, she titled her head from left to right, looking bemused.
Slowly, she got up and left the spot from underneath my knees and lay in my sisters laps. She fell asleep there and stayed that way for almost an hour. That night was the night that she cried herself to sleep though - whining the entire night through. Of course, though, I was in too deep sleep to hear her. But, of course, my sister did.
I stop breathing, stop moving, stop thinking and for a moment, I just close my eyes and listen - really really hard. I hear the soft humming of my failing computer speakers as some rock music plays, together with the tapping of my stiff traditional keyboard.
And then I hear a slight breeze by my ear, my brother's fingertips on his keyboards tapping away, the mouse frantically clicking. I hear his speakers blaring Dota sound effects as the cars along the main road grine against the tar coated roads. But yet, I don't hear fighter jets, strangely.
I hear this blaring buzz but I don't think it's it. Probably an annoying motorcycle passing by. I hear Wei Qin's voice though, mumbling in mandarin and it starts to crescendo as she gets more involved in conversation with my brother and seems to get a little excited with what she has to say. Oh, he begins to mumble back, deep and quiet.
No, no fighter jets tonight, unfortunately. Not that there aren't any in the skies but I just can't hear them, no matter how hard I listen out. I know a few of them just flew past us, high above in the skies. But I didn't see them, or hear them. Even though they're out there, I guess the distance limits the hearing range.
But I don't need to hear them to belive that they are there. I know that the fighter jets always fly past once in a while, no matter the time of the day. Even if it's not in the country's region, somewhere on earth, at least one fighter jet's high up in the sky, I believe. So, even without black-and-white proof, I believe the jets are up there. Somewhere.
One step left and then one step forward. Is that right? Oh, how I'd love to slow dance without stumbling, without hesistating. But I'm horrible at coordinating, I realised recently. They say that when you lead a dance, you gently tug at her hand to signal your next step. I'm guessing if you're really close, you'd have to move your shoulders...
She sings I don't see what anyone can see in anyone else, but you.
Like a recipe of a wonderful tasting dish, it consists of different ingredients which, individually may be so different in taste and texture but yet, put togther, it tastes magical. Like gingerbread men for example. I hate cinammon alone, or flour or ginger or malt but when baked with the right consistency, these 4 ingredients taste magnificent.
With the right measurements of everything, it can taste great. Just like the story of how Powerpuff girls came about - Sugar, spice, and everything nice. These were the ingredients chosen to create the perfect little girl. But Professor Utonium accidentally added an extra ingredient to the concoction: Chemical X! Thus the Powerpuff Girls were born!
Oh, but magical concoctions only come around once in a while. Be it between different food ingredients, instrumental context, flower arrangements, lines in a poem or even, people. So, when you get the right concoctions, take it down, grip it tight, don't forget it, keep it in mind.
Before an exam, we're expected to study our guts out to do well "with flying colous". Yes, but after that? We're still expected to study aren't we? Constant revision, punctual handing in of assignments. So, some ask what's the difference this way? I realised, recently, though - it's a world of difference.
It'll be strange if Snowy suddenly transformed into a human, or if Tigger suddenly was able to talk. Or like when cockroaches stopped being pests and when rats start becoming clean and stop passing diseases. It'll be strange, but it'd be fine. Right?
He said, or wrote, if I were you, I would be here.
Remember when we were kids, we used to have those floats that our parents would blow air into? The ones that we would put around our upper arms? Oh well, at least I used it a lot as a kid - I could never, and still cannot, swim. I always had to put them on.
Oh, but I enjoyed them! Because no matter what I did, I'd never sink, and I didn't have to worry about sinking either! They always kept me, safely, afloat. Ahh, how I recall jumping into the water in a very swift motion - jump off the ground, pulling legs towards body and pushing entire body horizontally forward.
I could jump into such deep waters that covered my head, by a feet or two, without having to worry about drowning. I even liked pretending that I could dive. Because there was nothing to hold me back, I was safe, anyhow, anyway. All I had to do was to hold my breath and close my eyes at the right times and everything'd stayed fine.
Like, everything else, I grew out of those floats. They're only for kids, so I never got to wear them after I passed the age of eight. And anyway, even if I did continue, I'd look horrendously silly. It's probably one reason that I don't swim anymore - because I can't, because I hate drowning. I hate water going up my nose. I fear death, don't like it one bit.
Because I can't, I keep play safe - by staying out of the pool, you know?
As if I had put a voice to his words, they ring in my head. Over and over and over again. They haunt me, like everything else that happened today. Like my regret for not having been there. They haunt me. I suppose that's just why my head's spinning - so fast, like a top.
Never you. That's what he said, he could make the entire world wait. Never you.
I met Si Kai and Geraldine for recess today, as usual. I had coffee, Nescafe. Original flavour. Both of them had Boncafe Ice Mocha. I hate boncafe, it just tastes weird. There was literature today, Geraldine and I got Mrs Wallace rather agitated. Naomi got a new phone. My eyes kind of hurt and ache. Maybe it's just the computer.
For english, we went through the paper I didn't do. Mr Poh told stories. My EzLink card has run dry of money. I need to get coins for tomorrow. Min Ying seems to be balding. "ABCDEFGHIJKLMNOPQRSTUWXYZ" was what I wrote on top of the paper I stole from Sarah's fullscap pad.
There's chem test tomorrow. Palwinder escaped to the washroom, I mean, gents. What is the difference anyway? Vanessa's birthday was a few days back, I wished her a happy... Oh, I got 17:10 for NAPFA. I expected higher. I beat Erica last year.
Rachel says that the new pinafore has pockets that are on the left. Michelle's hair was tucked into her collar during assembly. Jia Chern said hello yesterday. I sat on the same bus as Jocelyn and Khairi yesterday. There's band practice on saturday, isn't there?
Chee Hao's clumsy. Min Ying asked why he has injured himself so many times. Geraldine doesn't know what to do to crying people, it's funny. Classmates threw SJAB's 'auspicious jelly' around the classroom. Math lesson was dreadfully boring, but I don't mind trigo.
Carmina's hair is dead messy. East Coast Park Connector has nice lalang. Kia Ying moves her mouth a lot when she talks, I noticed today. Wei Shan should keep her hair tied up. MacDonald's large fries cost $2.55. Don't I owe Steph and Naomi money? I think I've returned Pao's orange circle template.
I've forgotten to tell Chee Hao he should go treading, or did I? Bicycles at Pulau Ubin are horrible. The band owes the ROs money for the chalet. I wonder if when Mr Leow with start printing the shirts. Chee Hao isn't free to call. I woke up with a headache today, so I took two panadols.
On the day of AMBienceVI, Chee Hao went to the pharmacy to get me Aleve and that mouthwash thing. I don't remember thanking him, I should do so tonight. Joshua said I dumped his beloved, but I never really had a choice. Of the choices we are given, there's no choice at all; you must always know how long to stay, and when to go, she sang.
Bridget, was she the one who got fat and pregnant? Oh, there was once that I forgot my aunt's name when she called. I wanna become a tattooist. It won't get me far, and I don't think mummy will allow that. Amos was caught sleeping in class today.
Jerald gave me that sick smile while Wallace sreamed at Geraldine and I. Amelia told Steph what? Yue Lin and Ze Yu switched places today. They both shake their legs when they sit. Harris forgot about the puppetry workshop, was it? He gave us the rest of the coke in the bottle. Chee Hao should be free soon.
I think Santino isn't all that good a designer, and that Daniel is hot.
How long before an eagle chick will leave its nest? A month, two, or three perhaps? Does it ever leave because it's tired or only because it's expected to, because it needs to stop depending. Have you wondered if it actually couldn't wait to leave its nest, to be free, to fly away?
You're feeling grains of sand under your feet. No, not the ideal vacation beach type of sand - not the soft smooth white sand. I'm talking about the hard big grains of sands. The one that grinds the sole of your feet to a raw state, to a rawness that makes the pain so unbearable that it might actually begin to numb.
Well, now imagine that you're on a huge island covered with sand that coarse. And not just some tiny insignificant island - not a Singapored sized island. More like an island thrice the size of Singapore. A deserted island though. Oh, but things get better - you have company! Blood related - possibly a relative or maybe even a biological sister.
But, wait, don't rejoice too soon. She's lost her mind, turned carnivorous and hunting you down like a prey. She wants food and you're her only option. You're her nearest, easiest option. She's tired, starved, and has lost insanity, while you're fatigue and feeling half-dead.
She's been an important figure in your life, she means everything, but what do you do now? Fight it out with her till one of you ends up a scorched dead carcass across the sand? Or do you run, and keep running till you find something close to a sanctuary?
There's a cave somewhere around, you recall. Oh, but you remember the distance it is from here - a long three day walk. And taking your level of fatigue into accord, would you still carry on? Would you still have the energy and determination to get there?
A silver metal band, beautifully crafted to look like a simple knot, from string, finished with butterfly loops. The whole concept behind it is just so create, simple and cute. I was starind at my display picture, thinking of it, analyzing it. What an simple ideal gift - a ring. Of course, also packaged with a message too - forget me not. Knot.
Strike up the band and make the fireflies dance. Silver moon's sparkling. So, kiss me.
They pressed their palms tightly against their ears, screaming.
It rained heavily today, but only just for a short while though. We were stuck, standing and waiting at the school's porch. Each time the bright flashes of lightning were to run through the darkened skies, a few of the girls would shriek and press their palms against their ears, not letting go till they heard the thunder that followed.
It humoured me each time they did so and had to wait for a whole 15 suspenseful seconds before the thunder became audible. A thunder that was very much mild and almost faint. But I never understood why they had to cover their ears anyway. I stood there and stared, laughing occasionally at the amusing spectacle.
I couldn't understand why I wasn't one who would do the same, I couldn't quite bring myself to do so. It felt like a joy, a challenge, awaiting the shock of the thunder clap ringing in my ears. I'd jump, occasionally, but wasn't that the fun of it all? Apparently, I was the only weird one of the people who enjoyed it.
It's just that, sometimes I feel, we spend too much time awaiting for disaster to strike. All that time spent waiting just all goes to waste, you know? So, until the moment really comes, I guess I'm suppose to take it all in. Every second, every minute. Until it all goes bad and rotten, then I'll throw it out, and move on.
Works the same everywhere and in everything, doesn't it?
My sister was just recalling how she lost her crystals at Merlin Hotel in Cameron Highlands 4 years ago. It never quite crossed my mind until she mentioned it the other night. I would have thought she had forgotten but I guess not everything can be forgotten that easily. Afterall.
Fourteenth week, you say? Would that be 11 weeks from now? Till then, will the time crawl by like it has for the last two weeks? I don't mean to count the days but the hours of each day, now, past so slowly that it seems almost inevitable. Oh, won't time just pass me by.
It's like struggling in deepwaters but not dying, kicking frantically, trying to keep your head above the water for as long as you can possibly stay alive without saving. It's like living without a sense of time, not knowing whether it's nearing night or not, walking around just watching the hours pass meaninglessly by.
But he holds her and cries no me dejes, no me dejes, no me escuches,si te digo "no me ames".
I like plotting out the activities of my days. No, not the days to come but the days that have passed. I attempted plotting out all my days' activities of the past month and realised that my memory is detoriating. I forget things I never used to forget. I have days to fill in - 26th, 23th.
I'm thinking it's because the skies are too grey. Maybe, maybe...
You know how we are always told that when you're stranded in a desert without water, the only thing you can do is to walk for hours in search of an oasis? Do you ever wonder what it's like to walk for hours, or even days, living on that tiny bit of hope to find for an oasis you're not sure even exists?
Have you wondered how torturous it'd be to search for something that you can't really be sure exists but yet know that it's your only source of survival? If you were thrown into that situation, have you ever wondered if you'd carry on walking or just give up?
Till I see you again, I'll just have to keep on walking.
We all have something to look forward to most of the time, every day. Some of us look forward to the final moment that we get to lay our heads on our pillows to get a good day's rest, some parents look forward to have their children greet them at the door. The things we look forward to can be so so simple, yet so special to us, you know?
I've found my own special something to look forward to of each end of the day.
As I look out of the window and at the blue-ish grey skies, I gaze at the beautiful pink clouds that litter the skyline. It looks like it's going to rain anytime soon. But these rain clouds, oh, they're really pretty. And then, I begin to wonder - if you're looking at the same clouds that I am, from where you are.
Have you ever woken from a dream so real that you could've mistaken it for a real happening? You could remember each word, and feel each touch as if it really did happen? And your loved ones, you could have believed they had been there, before you, beside you?
You'll always be in my dreams, in my life, in my heart. So why, do you worry so?
There's this little wall lamp on top of my sister's bed, in my room. It's been there for as long as I can remember, probably since I was born. It has a nice warm orange light, creates a really warm and comforting feel to my room. It's a dimmer so I can adjust the brightness of the light the same way I can adjust the volume of a speaker.
I was switching it on yesterday, by turning the notch clockwise. It'd click once to signify that it is switched on. The further I turn the brighter it is. While I was turning it, I started thinking back, and I realised - the bulb of the wall lamp had not blown once through the last 14 years.
Yes, it did flicker once or twice before but it never really blew. It's always been working fine, amazingly. Strangely. And I do use it at least 7 times a week, which means at least once a day. But it's fine, till now. After 14 whole years and more, it has not blown. Not even once.
Or maybe it has, it's just that I erased it from memory.
You're there by my side In every way I know that you would not forsake me I give you my life Would not think twice Your love is all I need believe me
I may not say it quite as much as I should When I say I love you darling that means for good So open up your heart and let me in
And I will love you 'til forever Until death do us part we'll be together So take my hand and hold on tight And we'll get there This I swear
I'm wondering how I ever got by Without you in my life to guide me Where ever I go the one thing that's true Is everything I do, I do for you
I may not say it half as much as I should When I say I love you darling that means for good So open up your heart and let me in
And I will love you 'til forever Until death do us part we'll be together So take my hand and hold on tight And we'll get there This I swear
So whenever you get weary Just reach out for me I'll never let you down, my love
And I will love you 'til forever Until death do us part we'll be together So take my hand and hold on tight And we'll get there
And I will love you 'til forever Until death do us part we'll be together So take my hand and hold on tight And we'll get there Ohh we'll get there This I swear
He sings but I'm not gonna let you down, darling, wait and see.
It's like the burning on-screen chemistry between two hollywood sweethearts, or like the jaw-dropping beauty of a thousand stars in the sky. Or perhaps even as simple as the way we need air to get through each day, or the way we depend on the warmth of the sun that shines down on us.
And between now and then, till I see you again, I'll be loving you.
There's this little kitten that roams around my void deck area. It was about a month old when I first saw it, it was so tiny and so adorable. It was, however, really timid and unfriendly but after a few days of playing with it, it began to warm up to me. Soon enough, it came running to me each time I saw it.
I absolutely adored it. The way it would fall into my arms and fit perfectly in the space between my elbow and my body, leaning it's head against my collar bone. It was absolutely adorable and I wanted so badly to take it home everytime. However, a week passed and it started growing bigger.
For a few days, I never saw it. It wasn't anywhere near my void deck or the other block's. But as I was walking down a flight of stairs to the mainroad yesterday, I heard the familiar tingle of its bell that hung around its neck, and it came from within the shrubs.
I bent down to peer into the shrubs only to find it crouching within, barely seeming to recognize me. I did attempt coaxing it out but to no avail. It was impossible for a kitten I had spent everyday of the last week to have forgotten me in a matter of days. I gave up and walked off though...
I believe it knew me, and from the look in its eyes, it did want to greet me. But something, rather strong, was holding it back. It was afraid, very afraid, in fact. Of what, I didn't know. Perhaps its trust was broken by someone else and it has begun to fear humans. Perhaps it was hurt and its wounds never healed.
Perhaps it was just protecting itself against further hurt.
He sings I will take you in my arms, and hold you right where you belong.
My music player repeats this song for the 21st time now. However, because my brother's asleep and my computer is positioned at the centre of all three bedrooms, I've turned it down to a low volume, just enough to be heard. But the lyrics, very audibly clear, still rings in my head.
With each word, I think of you. You, who have brought me such security and love I haven't felt for a time so long, I thought I never would again. And as the thought of your warm embrace melts me from the inside, I make a silent, unsaid promise of my own.
Till the day my life is through, this I promise you.
Snow white was poisoned by the apple, wasn't she? Then her prince charming came along and woke her from her, what was suppose to be, eternal sleep by kissing her on the lips. Yada yada, the same old story that we all know. They lived happily ever after.
Well, have you wondered if she ever ate apples after? Did she ever dare to? Would she fear apples for the rest of her life and never lay her hands on one ever again due to the fear of being poisoned again? Would she deprive herself of that sweet crunch of an apple just because of one unfortunate incident?
I don't think I'd eat apples again if I were her though.
If I could sit on the clouds that pass me by everyday.
I wonder what it'd be like. I do know that it'd be, technically, impossible to sit on water vapour but I could still dream, couldn't I? And I am sure each of us do wonder, and that I'm not alone. Oh, how lovely those white fluffs of water vapour look.
Would the pressure up there knock us into a silly state of near insanity? Would it lift our spirits so high that we'd go almost mad if we were to fall back down to earth? Would it wrap us into a ball of warmth and security that we would never want to break free from? Would it warm us from the bottom of our hearts and the core of our souls?
Baby, I don't know what I'll do. I'll be lost if I lost you.
Like a kodak moment, I wish this would last forever. A moment that overwhelmes me with such love it takes my breath away. I'll capture this in my heart and pray that no one will ever take it away, and I want so much to never let it go. Ever.
Baby, you'll take away everything real in my life.
He played the role of Achilles in the blockbuster film Troy. A soldier, a warrior, a man who feared nothing and who could kill anyone with one swing of a sword. He was a legend, a hero. But despite all that he seemed, he was a lover who loved fiercely and who gave up his life to save the one woman he loved.
However, in one moment of rage and a lack of thought, he flared up at her and strangled her, causing her to gasp for air. He could have killed her and he nearly did. He didn't want it of course, he was just too caught up with emotions, his vision too blurred with a confusing mesh of feelings.
Oh, but how he was close to tears as he watched her leave on King Priam's chariot. His heart probably aching as he slipped a valued seashell necklace into her hands as a parting gift. His pride melted away as he made his most sincere apologies for all that he had done for he was already feeling the stinging pain of regret.
I came here knowing and thinking I had so much to say. I came here with so much in mind and now that I'm beginning to draft a post, I don't know how to put what I'm feeling down, restricted, into words. But I know that... I don't know, actually. And I wish you didn't either. But you seemed sure, darling, you did.
I'll love you for everything you want to be. Though it might mean a huge sea of difference, I'll still always love you for you've played this huge big role in what I am today - a friend, a cousin, someone who meant so much and of such importance. So, why, tell me why, do you still... hurt me so?
I said I love you. I've always said that. But, perhaps unlike you, I really really mean it.
If only everything came in material, if only everything was tangable. If we could repay everything and everyone around us. Look, the sun's burning itself down for our survival every day. What are we doing to repay it? What can we do to repay it for all that it's done?
Yesterday, Geraldine told me that I owe her cash from the day before - $8 in fact. Oh, why can't everything be that way? Why can't we just pay back for everything when the person asks for repayment? Why won't we just ask when we want something back from what we thought of an investment of our own efforts?
I've been thinking and came up with a few answers - perhaps it's because we know that we started out volunteeringly, not expecting anything in return. It'd just be morally incorrect to demand a repayment by the time our contributions to something is done, wouldn't it?
Everyday, they come to us in forms all different sort. Sometimes in minor forms - like a choice of Nasi Lemak over Curry Mee for breakfast or maybe choosing between sleeping during lesson or not. Well, and those that we dread making and tremble at the thought of. But how much choice of not making choices do we have?
Ever walked by a stall of sweet, unhealthy deserts? Coated with sugar and icing and looking all shiny and glazed. So unhealthy and fattening they are though, and you know you can't or should not touch them because too much of something like that could kill. But, gosh, how long can you hold back the craving?
I had these two terrapins when I was 4. They were adorable - one was about the current size of my palm in a week and the other was half the size of my palm then. They were a brother-sister set and although they were so different in character and physical appearance, I was mesmerized by them.
I guess it's just the normal phase for a kid to go through, to get utterly spellbound by their first responsibilities for another living thing. Time was all I had on my hands then, so I spent afternoons studying them - I found out each of their likings; the brother liked the fish flakes while his sister likes pellet. I remember that.
Oh, but as a year went by, Snowy came into the picture. The most adorale, spontaneous creature I had ever laid my hands on. She was, by far, the cutest thing I had seen and I was so hooked onto her. She was this crazy, barking, hyper dog that stole my time right out of my hands.
It began a challenge to juggle time between my new obsession and my dreaded responsibilities. Feeding or even clearing the water from the 'terrapin's basin' was a chore. So, soon enough, I left all the 'terrapin duties' to my maid. She wasn't happy, but I couldn't care - I had Snowy now.
However, one afternoon, when I returned from kindergarten, the 'terrapin basin' was gone. Nowhere to be found. And as I asked around, I found out that she had filled the water too high that the terrapins could not come to rest on the rocks and soon - drowned.
Of course, I was only 5. I didn't really feel the dread of their death, I didn't know my carelessness had been the indirect cause of it. Also, I never really quite saw their empty, souless shells. They were disposed of before I had return from school - the little girl was too young for this.
And so I learnt not to let things slip out from between your fingers just like that.
La lune, trop blanc, (the moon, too white) pose un diadème (puts a tiara) sur tes cheveux roux. (on your red hair) La lune, trop rousse, (the moon, too red) de gloire éclabousse (with glory splashes) ton jupe plein de trous. (your ragged underskirt) La lune, trop pâle, (the moon, too pale) caresse l'opale (caress the opal) de tes yeux blasés. (of your indifferent eyes) Princesse de la rue, (princess of the streets) sois la bienvenue (be welcome) dans mon coeur brisé. (in my broken heart)
The stairways up to la butte Can make the wretched sigh. While windmill wings of the Moulin Shelter you and I.
Ma petite mandigotte, (my little beggar) je sens ta menotte (I feel your hand) qui cherche ma main. (searching for mine) Je sens ta poitrine (I feel your chest) et ta taille fine, (and your slim waist) j'oublie mon chagrin. (I forget my sorrow) Je sens sur tes lèvres (I smell on your lips) une odeur de fièvre, (a scent of fever) de gosse mal nourrie, (of an underfed kid) et sous ta caresse, (and under your caress) je sens une ivresse (I feel a drunkness) qui m'anéantit. (that kills me)
The stairways up to la butte Can make the wretched sigh While windmill wings of the Moulin Shelter you and I
et voilà qu'elle trotte, (and there she goes strutting about) la lune qui flotte, (the floating moon) la princesse aussi. (along with the princess)
Mes rêves épanouis. (my thriving dreams)
Les escaliers de la butte (The stairways up to la butte) sont durs aux miséreux. (are tough on the poor) Les ailes du Moulin (the wings of the Moulin) protègent les amoureux. (shelter those who love)
Threw some chords together, the combination D-E-F Its who I am, its what I do, and I was gonna lay it down for you I tried to focus my attention, but I feel so A-D-D I need some help, some inspiration, but its not coming easily
Tryin to find the magic, Tryin to write a classic, Dontcha know, dontcha know, dontcha know? Wastebin full of paper, clever rhymes- see ya later
These words are my own, from my heart flow, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, There's no other way to better say I love you, I love you
Read some Byron Shelley and Keates, recited it over a hip-hop beat I'm havin trouble sayin' what I mean, with dead poets and a drum machine
You know I had some studio time booked, but I couldnt find the killer hook, now you're gonna raise the bar right up, nothin' I write is ever good enough
These words are my own, from my heart flow, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, There's no other way to better say I love you, I love you
These words are my own, from my heart flow, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, There's no other way to better say I love you, I love you
I'm gettin off my stage The curtains pull away No hyperboles to hide behind My naked soul exposes woaaaaah
Tryin to find the magic, Tryin to write a classic, Wastebin full of paper, Clever rhymes- see ya later
These words are my own, from my heart flow, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, There's no other way to better say I love you, I love you
These words are my own, from my heart flow, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, There's no other way to better say I love you, I love you
These words are my own, from my heart I love you I love you, that's all I got to say Can't think of a better way, and thats all I got to say I love you, is that ok?
A tear-stained face of a kid could break into a smile at the sight of a lollipop. I never found it easy to comprehend why one could be so easily pleased. It took me forever to understand and figure out how a coloured lump of sugar could bring such an expression of happiness to a face so grey and wet with tears.
Oh, but slowly enough, I began to realise that it's not just kids who are that simple, that easy to please. We all are that way when something or someone who means a lot comes along and brightens up our day. Their presence is so simple and almost insignificant to the rest of the world, but to us, it changes all.
You're like a lollipop.
Congratulations, Welfare for organising what I thought to be the best Band Day of my years in AMB. :D
I've always had bad focus - wasn't really the person to concentrate on one thing for a long period of time. It wasn't really my thing to stick to one thing forever unless it's really something I love and have utmost passion for. But that, too, normally fades. Eventually.
There's always something silly that we do each day, or so goes my theory. Something minor or major, there's always something we do each day that is worth laughing at. Oh, but I've done so many stupid things today, I can't pick out just one.
Somethin' in your eyes, makes me wanna lose myself Makes me wanna lose myself, in your arms There's somethin' in your voice, makes my heart beat fast Hope this feeling lasts, the rest of my life
If you knew how lonely my life has been And how long I've been so alone And if you knew how I wanted someone to come along And change my life the way you've done
It feels like home to me, it feels like home to me It feels like I'm all the way back where I come from It feels like home to me, it feels like home to me It feels like I'm all the way back where I belong
A window breaks, down a long, dark street And a siren wails in the night But I'm alright, 'cause I have you here with me And I can almost see, through the dark there is light
Well, if you knew how much this moment means to me And how long I've waited for your touch And if you knew how happy you are making me I never thought that I'd love anyone so much
It feels like home to me, it feels like home to me It feels like I'm all the way the back where I come from It feels like home to me, it feels like home to me It feels like I'm all the way back where I belong It feels like I'm all the way back where I belong
And I'll tell myself I'm not dreaming each time you appear before me.
Beautiful moments don't last forever but the impressions they leave behind are beautiful, are they not? Like a glowing star in the dark night sky, they always seem to shine, no matter what. They're always there to put a smile back onto your face. They're always there for you to wish upon.
They past fast though. Time always flys by so fast when everything's wonderful and hopelessly beautiful. So fast that it's barely easy to capture everything wonderful that just went by before your eyes. But you'd stand so very still, anyway, and try to breathe in every beautiful waking moment of heaven.
AMBience VI was a blast. It was an absolute success and I loved every second of it. Something about everything of the hall still lingers in me... I constantly wish I could pause time. Not forever though, but just long enough to absorb everything that, most often, will faze in a matter of minutes...
How I wish I never had to make choices; because I just hate making them. Decisions, choices. They make my palms sweat and turn pale. Don't they to you? They make me feel sick and ill, like I could throw up at any point of time. And I constantly fear regret and guilt...
She says he'll never be mine, not even in my dreams.
Oh, some people say that we dream a few dreams each night. That our brain is constantly active and that we are prone to dreaming about 3 to 4 dreams each night that we fall asleep. We only do not know if we have dreamt because we just don't remember.
But how I wonder - if it's about simply not remembering or if there was some sort of will to not remember involved. If it's more about wanting to forget then simply not registering. More about a will to not recall and to totally erase them more than simply forgetting...
Oh, do you remember throwing silly tantrums? When you'd push something away for silly reasons of spite or, perhaps, pettiness. You'd give it away with a pounding ache in your chest, hoping you could have just put your pride down instead of having pushed it away.
Okay, let's start with something tangible... I was a kid, probably below the age of five when my dad screamed at me for something that had a barely acceptable reason. He was in his worst moods. And it all happened in the morning.
Of course, I was angry and upset. I spent hours crying before summing up the guts to stare him straight in the eye, displaying how much I despised him just as he closed the door and left the house. No, he had to run errands. Oh, but how I enjoyed thinking he feared me.
Later that afternoon, he came back with a packet of chocolates and put it in my hands - it was for me, he said. Oh, how tempted I was to tear it open immediately and pour the tiny coloured pieces into my mouth. Only that my pride was tugging at me, it didn't allow me to do so.
So, due to my disgustingly huge pride, I threw the chocolates onto the floor and looked him straight in the eye, telling him I didn't want it. Hoping, so hard, that he'll flare up and walk off. But he bent to picked up the chocolates and calmly walked over to my sister.
I watched with utmost longing as he dropped them into her open palms, and as a smile spread across her face. I spent the night staring at her devour the chocolates. My pride was too big for me to swallow and just ask for her to share a piece of her reward.
Oh, how often do we give something we want away, just in the name of pride? A force too strong to swallow. Oh, do you ever constantly wonder what it'd be like if we had put our pride down and allowed ourselves to give instead?
She told me that I need to learn to live the way others do.
When I was two or three, I had this purple walker that had really really huge wheels. I was quite a fast learner when it came to walking, so in a few hours, I was running with the walker, ramming myself into walls. Not hard enough to tip-over, but enough to receive a slight impact. I loved it, I used to laugh.
So, being able to run around so easily, with the walker's huge wheels propelling me forward all the time, I decided to play a game with myself - I took the joy of running over my sister's toes, watching her scream. I was only two years old, you see, I was frail and tiny. My sister wasn't allowed to hit me, then.
Everyday, when I was lifted into the walker, I ran after my sister, and she'd run away, screaming. I'd be fast enough to catch up though, and many times, I made her cry. She cried so badly that my mum had to stop be from using the walker. But I was never punished, and it was still an entertainment to me.
However, as time passed and I found other alternatives of causing my sister pain, I realised that it was useless. It wasn't going to bring me any good. So, after a long period, I eventually learnt and also got so bored of my own little game that I finally stopped.
Band camp was horrendous, and so tiring. 'Circuit training's and running up and down the school, sleeping on hard dusty floors and shivering through the cold night. It wasn't a very long camp, but it was still physically and mentally taxing and many of us could have dropped dead, and given up.
Oh, but at 0645 hours, 50 fatigue and aching half-asleep teenagers still fell-in before the flagpoles punctually. And enduring the nagging ache in our limps, we pushed ourselves through a series of physical activities. We ran, and pushed ourselves to what felt like somewhere close to our limits.
So, I started to wonder - how and why many of us, despite the sick feeling of cold sweat on our skins, went on with the trainings and endured it all the way? Was it just because it was instructions that were compulsory to follow? Or perhaps because it felt like a challenge - to prove ourselves able? Had I something to prove too?
She lay on the sofa, looking so adorable and so at peace. I wanted to throw my arms around her and cuddle her in my arms. Her soft white fur fell over her eyes as they fluttered to the rhythm of her heaving chest. And as I neared her, I could even hear her soft snore.
I called her name once, but she continued snoring, her heavy breathing was rather distinct now. So, I called her again, hoping to wake her a little, hoping not to give her a shock, but she didn't wake. I decided to pat her head gently, so I bent down and sat beside her.
As I did so, she jumped up and snapped at me, growling furiously. She glared at me, her fur still covering her eyes. I stepped away and tried to calm her down, calling her name repeatedly in a voice as soothing as I could muster. As she started to growl more intensely, I decided to go. She must have had a bad dream.
I can't find a word or a way to describe how thankful and utterly grateful I'm feeling now. For all the wonderful, beautiful people in my world, in my life. For all the joy, and for each and every smile they have brought to my face, my heart. I truly am, so so thankful.
No, this isn't to just a number of people I want to particularly thank now. It's more of a surge of appreciation I'm feeling towards everyone. And it's not something that finally sparked this gratitude off in me, but more of an accumilation.
I was thinking back and realised how everything and everyone around me has changed me, mostly for the better, in one way or another. And how many have helped me, so much, out of one of the crappiest times of my life. Oh, and how endless this feeling of gratitude is. I doubt ever finding a way to express... everything.
eu·pho·ri·a /yuˈfɔriə, -ˈfoʊr-/ [yoo-fawr-ee-uh, -fohr-] –noun Psychology. a feeling of happiness, confidence, or well-being sometimes exaggerated in pathological states as mania.
Today's one of those days that everything's brighter, and everything glows more than they usually do. One of those days when you look out of the window and feel so thankful for everything around. For how the sun gives us warmth or how beautiful the sky is when blue.
Oh, and it makes me so thankful for the people in my life. The people who make me smile, and bring a feeling of joy to my heart. The people who help me make sense in my life all the time, everyday when things get darker. Oh, the wonderful feeling of warmth, so great, that they bring...
Stand by me, and give me all the strength I might need.
Some people wear a cross around their necks, others have Buddha pendants, and some even have scriptures of an ancient language engraved in their bedposts as they submit themselves to the night. All I need, though, is to know that you'll always be there.
On the way home, I saw two snails in my path. As I reached out to pick one up, but it drew back into it's shell and lay deep within as a way of defence. And so, I began to wonder what it'd be like to be a snail. To have a shell that you could withdraw into each day, anytime, anywhere; it'd always be there.
It hides for it fears it's soft body would be prodded at causing it a very sad death. It has its shell though, to offer it as much protection as it can get. I wonder how safe it feels each time it withdraws back into that hollow home on its back, how thankful it is that it can stay away from all the sadness and negativity in the world.
I was thinking back to the first time I killed something or saw something being killed. Can you remember? I think I vaguely recall. I hated watching mosquitoes being killed and screamed hysterically whenever someone tried to. To me, it always ended up with blood smudged across palms. It made me cry.
However, the excitement of being fast enough to catch a flying insect excited me so. So, one day I squealed in delight when a mosquito flew above my head. I screamed to be carried, to be held up so I could catch it, and smash it like the adults always did. You see, I was only 3. But I wanted, so very much, to be older.
So, I was held up from the armpits, into the air as I flung my arms around, frantic to smash the insect. And as I squealed and squeeked with bursting anxiety, I reached out and smacked it down hard in between my palms. Well, it was as hard as I could afford then.
I opened my claspsed hands and saw the creature wriggling in my palms. Blood was smeared across the middle and it's wings still twitched. I demanded to be put down onto the floor. Torn between the feeling of triumph and disgust, my lips began to twitch and my eyes began to tear.
Soon, I was crying, staring down at the half-dead insect in my hands. At the same time, I proudly held it out for all to see - my very own efforts lay almost still in my hands. I don't remember much about what happened after that but I'd guess I was carried off to have my tears dried and my hands washed, before taking a nap.
The problem is, I don't see a reason to have stopped.
So, don't just sit around and accuse me of overreacting because I'm not. I'm only in need of reassurance, because chasing after it makes me tired. So why won't you just tell me, sincerely, that I mean a lot and that you're gonna need me around? You see, manipulating you has become my next past-time.
I didn't have an answer or a solution. I knew I failed myself, and that, in itself, disgusted me. I was supposed to have the strength, at least enough to sustain self-promises, but no, I let you walk in here and take it all away. You're a great person, but it threatens me. And I hate threats.
I blame you, but I will find a way to clear it up. Soon enough.
I was crossing the overhead bridge from the HDBs to Jubilee today, looking down at the train tracks wondering what it'd be like to get run over by a train. However, the metal grills that were built across the bridge to stop people from commiting suicide were affecting my imagination. So, I turned to something else.
Try blowing your nose while your nostrils are pressed inwards with your thumb and index finger. If you blow hard enough, your ears would pop and a sick pressure would rise to your head and you'd feel like it's on the erge of exploding, and blowing up. I think it's fantastic, don't you?
Oh, and the pressure in your ears stay and leave a slight ringing sensation, making it ever more fun. You head would be dizzy and your vision swaying as an effect to it all. It comforts me, the comfortable feeling it gives me . It hurts and aches and throbs but it reminds me that I'm alive, and I like it.
I just believe that pain is our friend, it reminds you that you're alive.
I like catching Snowy in a moment of confusion. When both my sister and I, standing at two ends of the room are holding out treats to her, calling her name. She can barely decide where to go, spinning in circles, considering her options for many seconds before actually making a final choice.
Oh, but when she walks off, it is obvious that she wonders if it would have been better if she had turned the other way instead. We all can see it in her eyes, but only she can feel the burning temptation to turn back around, the sickening ache of curiousity as to how much greener the other side of the grass might be.
I like catching her in such moments because she looks so pathetic and at such a loss that you want to cuddle her in your arms and give her all the attention that might make her feel better. Other than looking hopelessly adorable, her behaviour is just so interesting to observe. It's just so, scarily... human-like.
Her weakness, though, gets on many people's nerves.
Just like using honey flavoured syrup instead of homemade maple syrup, or playing soccer with a beachball instead of a proper football, not all replacements are of equal quality. At the point of desperateness, we turn to alternatives that seem just as good. Often, we end up in regret.
However, also at the point of despondence, we are constantly unaware of our other options, our other alternatives. Oblivious to everything else, only focusing on solution. Without considering them, we choose the worst, the easiest way out.
We constantly forget, though, how nothing or no one likes to be replaced, especially by something or someone worse.
If I had to believe in love again, the one thing I'd never believe it to be is - blind.
Oh, how it amuses me to see two kids fall 'in love'. It amuses me a great deal because even though I want to wish them luck, I can't help but bid on how long it'd actually last. Of course, I too am disgusted. You see, it is this way as one of them doesn't deserve the other. The other whom I am rather close to but have no choice to support in decision.
I guess this could be the result of defeat. And I absolutely hate this sore feeling of rejection, of incapability. It will be over, I know, this sick feeling of absolute disgust. However, I doubt ever finding a way to get myself to genuinely wish them the best.
