3am last night, I shut my door and went to bed, because the world was too noisy, sometimes you need to feel this world is yours and yours alone. At least for a night.

And so I had my dreams, one of which reminded me how the slightest physical touch can be so lasting, I have not been close to anyone since the days of secondary school where bouncing like a bubble and holding hands with your friends are the norm. I woke up not wanting to speak to you anymore, disgusted by the way my subconscious views you; and then I replied to a text but the topic keeps diverting back to the person and I pushed my phone away.

Then I noticed the shut door; sudden wave of a feeling of great isolation - waking up first thing in the morning to find out that you are alone. I must have forgotten all about the shut door after my dreams because it hit me as hard as ever. I wondered what she was doing outside and if she had entered at all.

The urge to say good morning to her was strong, so I got up and did. All grudges from the previous night dissipated into thin air, the barrier I erected between us emphasized on nothing but the absence of each others' presence. She looked at me, smiled. I think we both would like to put the night behind us. I am glad that distance helped show how closeness is actually more desirable as tiring communication can be - I would not have realised this if I were not allowed to shut myself in.

Like this quote;

“I am resolved to wander so long away from you until I can fly to your arms and say that I am really at home with you, and can send my soul enwrapped in you into the land of spirits.”

Ludwig van Beethoven

-

She told me she couldn't sleep when I closed the door. I hid my eyes from her. Then told me about things she learnt during class, exercises, it was a comfortable moment. It felt simple.

When you look at your parents you feel like you do not know what love is at all. I do not know what love is at all.

-

Now, to work. For the whole day. Remember: long term.

Remember: long term. And get a hold of yourself.

Now calm yourself down. Good. Now get to work.

I must be well tomorrow

I feel like I am burying my sadness, deeper and deeper, no longer able express it. I feel immensely sad, and that is all I know. Where are you, the ones I used to hold so close to me? Where are all of you? Who am I to you?

Books surround me, the door is shut. I must not fall again. I do not know anything. Talk to people. But they merely remind myself of my presence for that moment of our encounter. Learn to drown myself in books in music in movies in art in creation in thoughts in myself, shut myself away in the process - forgo the chances to open up to others (if the doors are even open).

(so why do I not want her to enter?)

I will not fall. I must not fall. I definitely will not fall. If I chant this over and over, will I stand tall? I have lost half my heart and soon I will lose all of it. There will be nothing left. Not even ashes. Or air.


What hurts you the most might not not be loneliness. It is the promises given; I will be there despite my busy schedule, I am sorry I can't do anything. They are not lies, they are not. They mean no harm at all. Those are kind words, spoken genuinely, or perhaps in a desperate attempt to console me at that moment.

But I would rather you say nothing at all than to be left with disappointment, door of vulnerability open and shut in my face. I would rather wrap my heart in layers of cloth so tight that the ruby drops squeeze out so I can feel my wet skin and meet someone, anyone who might save me or let me die. Or I might find it in me to release the cloth bound so tightly.

This inability to express is killing me the most tonight. It is the most terrible feeling on earth, much worse than sadness.

I will not fall. I must not fall. I will be better tomorrow.

When i'm whiny I feel like saying I hate the world.

I mean on days like this I do. Screw this and that and everything and all people on earth who are enjoying time with their friends and sociable people and

okay done

Words don't flow the way I want them to. I've been writing on the public transport lately, the people probably stare but I don't notice. There is inspiration, but they are nothing without proper words, there isn't craft there isn't skill. Like the work I created last year.

we made art today!



Abstract art, planned accidents, collaboration of two artists (one to-be full time, and one.. retired? No I won't call myself a retired artist because I will paint once my exams are over in just half a years' time. And we are 'official illustrators', both of us. Though I wouldn't say that makes me satisfied.)

I feel abstract is the best for the creation of an art piece with a friend for it is spontaneous and free. Working on a still life together might be quite disastrous for two perfectionists (I want to try that though, it'd be interesting to observe our interaction and how we'll deal with frustration or how we'll compromise) while this unplanned collaboration allows room for improvisations, flow of ideas and there are no mistakes - 'mistakes' can either be beautiful additions or a chance for improvisation.


squid lookalike





This is made with oil paint dissolved in oil, and black batik ink,
and our breaths through a straw.

it became a bit of a mess at the end due to the oil (our favourite piece not under lighting though!)


It looked like this at first.




(our first experiment piece)

-

I'm trying to not think what distance will do. Seems like the ones I talk to the most will be away from me very soon.

And I will be away for around 3 weeks :(

-

We talked about how music creates an enclosed world for us and after a while we won't even notice the song for it brings us to someplace else.

I thought of how I was typing furiously away on my itouch on the train ride back home, completely oblivious to my surroundings while having 花事了 on repeat, and The rescues' My Heart with You during the ride to bugis.

Thought about why we all have a need to share our thoughts with people we can connect with even though out souls can feed on our own thoughts and inspiration. I speak to others because I want them to know this is me, and all I am looking for is someone I can connect with, someone who can relate to my thoughts. Having such a need is a joke when you can't achieve it at all as the person you are.

-

"we are all constituents of each other" - how much of our thoughts are individual? Everyday, we speak to people, read, observe our surroundings and they shape who we are. We are constantly in search of things we feel define us, and when we do, hold that close to us, and it will become us, an extension of ourselves. Any extension of our beliefs must stem from the words of someone else, or shaped by our experience from interaction with people.

I am already shaped by that quote, and the many other things I have heard today. I dislike the term "inspiration (from another)", but it is an undeniable fact. Books, words, experiences change us so.

-

On the way home, I looked at my bag which says "I like shopping" and thought, this does not define who I am though people will judge me, label me, put me into certain groups because of the things I wear, and the things I carry. I carried that bag because I couldn't care less, and slipped into casual wear because I was lazy - but people will look at your physical appearances and try to define you in a certain manner.

Clothes give us an identity only if we ourselves believe clothes give us an identity. Then the next moment a dress I really liked caught my eye and I thought "I want to get it!" for a split second - I guess the clothes we are naturally attracted to still kind of define who we are in a certain manner. I guess it is safe to define someone by their physical appearances on the day the feel they are themselves.

It is the first direct thing people can assess afterall.

-


The Rescues - My Heart with You

Perfect song for the above purpose.

Who do you think I am?

The growl of loneliness. Drown me in it let it kill me.

This is so unreal. (although it is not happening to me)

Few moments ago I was thinking 'whatever will happen when you go? Who will I talk to?" - and you told me about the news the next. Seeing you so excited is quite unreal, I bet this whole thing still feels unreal for you. Or would you prefer the word surreal? It's a mixed feeling, I really do feel excited for you yet sad that you're leaving at the same time. And you're not replying now, are you jumping all over the bed or sitting quietly, waiting for the news to sink in?

Hate post for the world today.

Zero human existence tonight, why oh why.

Disgusted with the way I acted that day. All I wished for was to have something more to say. Anything more, and I am now regretting it. I hate events. I also hate how people put a label on me.

touch sight tastes like fire
hands do now what eyes no longer defend
hands to fuel desire

(how irrelevant this is to the post,
I like it nonetheless.)

-

[ this lack of style in writing disgusts me sometimes. As though I'm writing a GP essay or something. What am I giving up in exchange for (attempted) clarity?

They say 'lost in emotion', but I actually feel even more lost. Not the lack of direction, but in the sense that I'm losing myself.

Who is this girl, trying hard to make clear links and equations? Who is this person, rejecting emotions when she cannot find the reason behind it? Who do I want to be, and what for? For the fear of falling back into emotions for they cause too much hurt?

The events themselves have not changed me, it was my conscious decision to change, a coping mechanism. To chase away fear. Worries. Insecurity. Have I closed my heart to this world? Where is this this ability to feel so immensely? I prided myself in it, and have now lost it.

Lost it? To what? Fear? How cowardly, how timid.

I am but another wandering soul now, not to be saved or redeemed till I can throw myself in one's arms, without this fear that has been with me all my life.

What is rejection to this magic that is love?

If you can even find it while you're alive, that is. Some people never find it. Those people die. Not just romantic love. ]

It is sometimes quite stressful to type, knowing I'm under the scrutiny of people who read this space. Because it feels as if I have to type something that is politically correct, even the emotions.

Most of the time I end up posting something even if it is not so politically incorrect, because I want to be heard sometimes (for my own satisfaction) [by how many, I do not know]

Typing here therefore forces one to analyse the situation in many more angles (which can get really tiring but is good when there needs to be more emphasis on objectivity), whereas the comforting diary allows the pouring out of emotions (though I'm making it a point to not lose my train of thought and end up ranting instead of reflecting)

-

Whenever I post something up here, and think of why I did not post whatever is written in my diary (I do not like the word 'diary', but it isn't a journal either..), I feel as though people see only [THIS] side of me and think this blog and myself in real life makes me complete.

Whenever I think of this, I tend to be selective in whatever I post up here. Then I think, what if I type too much and people do not even bother to find out who I am? Highly likely situation, how self-absorbed is this blog?

Why am I so afraid of people not knowing who I am? (of course, I am in control of what they can see). Afraid that they'll lose interest in me as a person, a friend, afraid that we won't connect so well if they don't want to find out more about me?

-

- I actually replied the "I"s with "you"s for the fear of sounding too self absorbed at first. I wonder if there was a need to.

The Temper Trap - Sweet Disposition

A few picks with the word 'sweet' in my itunes:

(only because I typed in "swee" to find Johanna from Sweeney Todd, I should type in 'silen' (ce/t) tomorrow, for fun)

krezip/sweet goodbye
Glee cast/sweet caroline
Guns N' Roses/Sweet child O' Mine
Toby Lightman/ My Sweet Song
Norah Jones/ Those Sweet words
Beyonce/ Sweet Dreams
Boyz II Men & Mariah Carey/ One Sweet Day


The word 'sweet' does not feel happy and overwhelming when you stare it at hard enough, it actually looks abit odd. Also, it does not feel sticky and thick and lovey dovey to me today, not sickening either. It is mild taste of a speck of sugar on the tip of my tongue.

Small talks are not conversations. They are tiring. They drain you. Make you not want to speak to people. Speaking is so tiring.

Why speak to others when there is nothing to be said? I hate the word boredom. It is when minds are empty, and no conversation can be made. It is when nobody wants anything out of a conversation - just the feeling of speaking to a being, not being alone.

And the obligation. To want to ease them of their boredom. Knowing you can't. Or I can't, the small talks kill me slowly.

In essence, you are just another being to fill space in their heart at that moment, but you never earn a spot in their minds.

[ Just very plainly confessing, maybe this entire post was born out of a need to find out the reason why I can't talk to so many people. There needs to a be a reason behind everything - but whether this is true or not.. we'll see. Hopefully they're not made up for the sake of making myself feel better. I do not know. Right now, I'm still kind of.. disillusioned, I guess. ]

At other times there's nothing I want to tell them about.

So what if they know what I'm doing at the moment? I want them to know what I'm thinking at that moment, and what they're thinking at that moment - but you can only say these to people who know you.

How many people actually know you?

Give them a chance, I tell myself countless times. So I try to ask about their lives, realise there's nothing going on in mine. I try to go deeper, but it becomes awkward. All friendships start this way, I tell myself. But there really is NOTHING to talk about when we don't go through things together. Sharing, catching up is different from talking.

You view things through the other person's lens when you hear them share, all you can do is try to view it from that lens as well - when the best part is to look at the same thing via both our lenses and share afterwards.

Unless you know the person enough, know how her lens looks like - you can tell her if it is tainted blue, tainted red with anger. Or try to taint yours in the same manner to understand her. To still see that familiar person even though everything around you both has changed.

Catching up is when she hands you her camera, shows her all the pictures she has taken (the past few months), and you go "I see, so this is what you have been up to".

Talking feels like doing the same, but analysing how it was taken, why it was taken, with what lens it was taken with. Sharing your thoughts about it. Or going to the same place to take that photo, exchanging lenses, wonder why the photos appear differently on our different bodies even though the lens is the same. Or maybe they turn out to be the same. Intellectual exchanges, excitement when s/he points out something you do not know, discovering things together.

-

I haven't been spending enough time with them enough.

I'm tired of making new friends, as trapped in my own world as I may be right now. I want to go through whatever everybody is going through right now, can't help but notice the differences between us and the lack of experiences we have together. Come next year they'll all be too busy for me.

Please, focus on your goal. Survive if you can't live.

A few hours is all I can spare so everybody gets on with their lives and their friends while I slowly burn mine away. Turn into ashes and never appear again, perhaps only when I breathe in, clouds of frustration. Knowing I'm alone but not feeling alone.

Rejecting all sadness and emotion to stay alive.


I only remember the faces of acquaintances in my dreams. Is it because the ones I am close to are in my heart, is it because I feel them and not look at them when I talk to them in real life? Just as I was about to rejoice about remembering more faces, perhaps its only because more of you grow distant.

- and I do not know when to speak.

there is this constant, hovering voice reminding me again and again to not be self absorbed when I want to share things about myself. Then they say it is obvious that I'm trying to strike a balance. Trying so hard to make myself a better person to connect with.

Small talks bore me. Sms-es bore me.

I have no idea how to change small talks into meaningful ones, for all friendships start with small talk. What is there to talk about if there is nothing in common? Like school? Or music? Work?

I'm bored of asking them what's happening, and they do not seem to bother about what is going on outside their lives as well.

I feel like I can't make conversations.

Because small talks are not conversations.

You, how annoying, that desperation in your voice. Always asking about me, so obvious you want me to ask in return. Maybe I hate it because I see this desperation in myself, something I try so hard to hide. The pointless things I say, wanting to have something more interesting to say, to sustain conversations.

And you, so you sense that pointlessness in whatever I said. Yes, it is for the mere sake of having something more to say, something more than how the day was, how disgusting that sounds. Go on, ignore it, be just like me. Lie about falling asleep, about being busy, white lies.


-


"you're always talking about how he's great, patient, everything. Everything about him, how he talks to you and complain that I don't, how he doesn't make you angry.. how he takes thing so much more easier" bet you don't remember the times he's shouted many years ago.

"you know, that's because of yourself. Of course I have reasons to dislike your attitude, the times you've made me sad when your lock yourself in, not willing to speak to me, how you anger me so.", the dreaded reply I cannot forget.

She said, "why do you seem like you are so jealous of him?"

but I am, once through my through, and like the many other times the same phrase has been floating around.

"but I am. I mean, I was, since forever."

and she notices my resentment amongst other things.

-

I shouldn't put it up here. But with whatever you said, did you not just tell me you like him more, much more, that there are so many reasons as to why I should not be liked as much.

Do you understand I look up to him as much as you love him, I did not say all these out of hate, but out of hurt? This is a cycle we can't break out of. I know, we're playing the blame game. I'm the angsty jealous kid, I have no reason to behave this way because the only way to go is to try to be better, not to express feelings, negative feelings.

I do try, I did try. And I'm still trying. It's like reaching for the stars.

But where was he, when dad was away? All he had to do was to be away, all I had to do was to be there and be called troublemaker.

-

The only books I read now are the ones I have to read. Antoniette always makes me wonder, the rejected people in society makes me wonder - how much of it is their own fault, who are the people who play a role in the development of such sad, lonely, hated characters?

過去

王菲 - 冷战 (recorded version)

Cantonese Version of Tori Amos' Silent All These Years.
(Stefanie Sun did a cover of it too, in English)



王菲 - 流非飞

(picture 2 year old me dancing to this whenever it's playing)



王菲 - 容易受伤的女人


My mom says we listened to these all the time when we first migrated here, 16 years ago. In that house much emptier than this, paper boxes stacked up, some left unpacked (but not for long). My grandma used to make us nasty herbal soup and it took the whole family to pin me down and force the brown liquid down my throat.

I remember my neighbour asking me once, "so how long have you all lived in Singapore?". I answered "10", and somehow that reply got stuck with me the next few years so I have to count whenever others ask me now.

Suddenly recall being very afraid of the man selling turkish Ice Cream at Clarke Quay because I feared people looking at me so much. (even strangers) Was so terrified of him but just a few months ago I gave him the "you can't trick me" grin.

My favourite places were those barriers my parents' legs formed whenever my radar sensed an adult coming near.

-

Now the word shy is (almost) out of the question.

I sent it out without pausing to think. If anybody realised.

I have to study. Haven't been concentrating too well, so bye. I haven't regretted my choice of retaking up till now, and I better not let myself regret a year later. This is the chance I am offered. Whatever I have not done the past few months - I should make up for it. Not for the sole sake of making sure I won't fail again this time, but to take full responsibility for this choice I've made.

Joanna (reprise) - Sweeney Todd

Yes I listen to the songs before I watch the musicals!

Joanna's the only song I found decent in the movie. Blood looked like paint, it was more of gore than a dark themed musical but that doesn't matter much, this song is the reason I (we) watched it anyway. Just like the old days. And well, the addition of riko the silky terrier.

My blog had been neglected for I haven't used computer much the past few days and my diary satisfies any of my emotional needs for now. And the entry is here below because it feels strange to be writing all those in a diary. I should stop posting too much of them though, makes me feel like I'm losing a part of myself. Somehow.

Controversial posts are things I dislike, knowing there isn't such thing as the truth, that someone may hate me for saying something for they think I am wrong. Fact is, I am not 'wrong' or 'right', that was just my view.

I miss hat feeling of confusion, the act of searching for the right word, feeling so triumphant when I do - its gone now. This certain clarity (in comparison to my old self, not others) makes me feel like a different person. There is so much less I share with others.

I used to be desperate for answers, now it feels like reflection, done in a calm manner. I try to be calm about things. I feel like I am in control of myself, an entirely different me. I like it, but at the same time I do not. This certain structure I'm trying to impose upon myself kills that free, wandering soul in me. I want to be seen as a free person, but deep inside I know it is this ability to get a hold of myself I need, to survive. (Do I want to live, or survive?)

Incoherent thoughts allow you to ramble on - if that was what I called writing then I should be able to do better. I hope.

To the person who has a protected blog (that starts with "r") and visited this site roughly 197 times (not like you'll remember the number of time you visited this place haha), who are you?? I am a very curious person you know!

Are you from Singapore or India or US? Are you a kid or an old woman (okay I highly doubt so). Do I know you in real life? I won't bite (I swear) and if I don't know you in real life it's alright as well just tell me who you are! Or are you a hacker? Or my future employer?

The difference between 2006 and 2011... and 2016.

This is all quite interesting and I shall end it off here. I feel I should not comment too much unless I know enough about politics (not a lot of people do, especially those who got far too heated up. There were quite a number of insightful articles/notes at the same time though.)

-

Brother's flying off today :(

I feel I should keep comments about the GE to myself, or just a few. Still find many comments irrational and emotional, some are joining the hype.

I don't think giving one-sided comments/responding to just a few speeches or articles during this period would make one much less

'politically apathetic'.

(oh how bad being politically apathetic sounds, we must let others know we've read at least five -okay, maybe ten- articles and at least enough about the two female candidates which fully represent the parties to have enough information to open our mouths to speak and that shows we're mature adults and we care about politics.

For two weeks at least.)

I admit I got a little carried away typing the above paragraph.

it's so easy to do so.

-

Of course there's nothing wrong with being interested, hell it's good to be interested. It's great that we're more involved than before. Nothing wrong with commenting after making clear evaluations even if it's a response to just two articles/speeches. Just.. chill with the insults and complaints and who should be supported because their insults to the other party made sense. (etc.)

And of course I'm not talking about everybody. Many people know much more than just the two female candidates or the speeches that got the crowds going. (as we begin to read more, less and less people will react too emotionally/irrationally - and that's good -). (Though we cannot assume 'less and less' will lead to none)

We know who will take offense in this and who will not. I asked myself why I even typed this, and well.. even if I cannot make much better comments on this upcoming election, some comments do get on my nerves a little.

third may -

just needed to remember the dates. Moments of realization won't be forgotten that easily, and cannot be explained that easily either.

One has heard me anyway (I know you'll remember this post)

But I don't want you to be back to change things.

I miss band and I miss my flute :(

I don't remember ever fitting in, since primary school.

Ranting post ahead. As if you have to be told to know that. I'm just asking anybody reading this to not judge my writing.

-

Since primary 5, since orientation in sec 1, then cca in secondary school, my sec 3/4 class, the people in jc. And while everybody's catching up with all their friends now, I'm not even talking to any besides a few I can count with 5 fingers, the occasional 'hi-byes' aside (which I end up not saying much as well). I don't think I'll be hanging out with them even if I didn't have to study. This is not for the sake of whining, it is just a very strong emotion I feel all the time.

I don't think insecurity directly links to self esteem, because my self esteem problem isn't that great a problem, I think. It's just this need for me to always feel accepted. I've never really felt accepted. Perhaps just that small handful. I feel so different from everybody else since young, just why am I like that? Why is it that people have been saying how weird I am since primary school?

I've sent another friendship almost down the drain with my insecurities, my odd habit of expressing myself too much, fearing silence and therefore blabbering about myself sometimes (disguised as self-centeredness though I admit I can be quite self-centered), sensing extreme discomfort with others most of the time because I expect too much out of a conversation

(come to think of it, it might be due to insecurity - I am desperate to dig for great, intense conversations such that the other person would feel I am close enough and see me as a friend. It's not just MY need to have great conversations, but a need for it because I want to feel close enough.)

Everybody has insecurities but nobody really voices them out as much as I do. Or maybe because mine's so obvious it shows through too easily. I try to hide them but I can't.

Yesterday night (rather, this morning) left me confused.
Today, i feel like there is nobody around me.
Tomorrow is the start of a new week and people will be away.

My post disappeared. So there is nothing here either.

Am I that oblivious to my surroundings?

What WAS that one hour for.