Card castle.

I've been frowning a lot lately.

Truth be told-
I've been sobbing and looking as unhappy as I feel,
So how is that a surprise here?


It just that it hasn't occurred to me how profoundly things are affecting me-
Till I looked at some pictures I look at the recent book exhibition

And it became clear that my smile is melancholic and forced; my gaze sharp and judgmental, my eyes surrounded by deep dark circles- I have this all-round stressed-out appearance, and I just look sad no matter how wide my lips stretch to cover my mental exhaustion.

I already look older than my age due to my physique, voice, and behaviour-
But now I'm really starting to think that I'll look and feel thirty before I even hit 19.

Things never end up well when I desperately need them to,
But that's always the case, don't you think?

Nothing ever goes your way the way you want it to;
That's the way it is.
I won't go into too much detail here, but my first comeback session in a long time for storytelling turned out to be one of the worst sessions that I've ever had- a mum really put me on the spot in front of everyone about the book being too difficult for her child, I explained that it was to cater to the wider audience of 6-10, and she kept insisting that I read some other books/ some other librarian do the session instead.
Then, some other seven year old boy kept pestering me to find out my address- it wasn't that he as a kid didn't know better, because he was blocking my way and trying to drag me; he used threats and he wouldn't stop trying to force an answer out of me.

There was a limit to the amount of temper that I could show,
Considering the fact that we were at a staircase and he could easily tumble down the stairs, and it'd be my fault.

His mum just sat and laughed, then asked me if I was 'scared'.

Then, he followed me out of the library- in which case, I would really land in trouble for if he disappeared or something..

.
I then tried my hand at orphanages but there aren't opportunities available;

There are some who'd call me 'kind' for trying to volunteer,

But honestly I'm just trying to do something- fill up some space both within and outside of me,
And feel like I'm not disintegrating into salty dust.


I've told you this but it's so easy to revert to someone who cries herself to sleep on a daily basis- and I don't mean it as a pity party thing; I don't want to use my sadness as a tool; but it does seem that my unhappiness runs as a deeper scar than I'd thought, and I truly have difficulty trying to

"Get Better."




.
It then occurred to me that
I truly haven't had the life of a typical teenager;

It was such a wishful desire that I should be able to go to prom in a long gown and tinted chapstick; hug friends that were through thick and thin with me, go on a grad trip to some faraway country and see snow for the first time; get drunk with a bunch of fun-loving people and-

Feel like my possibilities are endless, like I'm in the prime of my life,

Like I belong somewhere.

To a certain extent, being a friendless fibre has trapped me in more ways that I've known: I've been to most of the places you can be to, alone- Museums, movies, shopping centres, book exhibitions, libraries- you name it, I've been there.
And since Singapore is such a tiny place,

Having no friends means no partying, no sleepovers, no adventure cove trips and no traveling- for I am not allowed to travel alone.

It means that you have no place left to go,
Nothing left to do.

Everyone else has been traveling to different countries- the average graduate has been to at least three, with three different groups of friends
And at first it didn't get to me the way everything else does,

But social media has a way of bringing you along on their graduation trips,
Then brutally slapping you in the face with the reminder that you're still very alone, and empty.


Each day has passed at a painfully slow rate,
And it's not because I want it to.

I just can't find the joy in shopping, or reading, or watching dramas anymore.
Listening to music just makes me reflect and cry even more,
And every hour has just been painful as I increasingly wish myself off to a different place,
With different circumstances in life.

I don't want to whine.
I just couldn't bring myself to enjoy anything anymore,
And I just
can't
           breathe.





I'm out of choices,
Im genuinely exhausted every single day- and I just can't bring myself to do anything productive anymore. 

You can only sustain your innate need for companionship with hobbies- for so long, after all. 

Truth be told, I exceeded the limit of being lonesome a long time ago. Still, when you're trapped, you're trapped, and there's nothing you can do to ease that emptiness- not volunteering, for I somehow couldn't find a place to go- and not a club for making friends, for such do not exist.

I am still at rock bottom, and it seems like it'll take years before I resurface from the muck again.

Somehow I'd expected the As to end alongside my loneliness; I thought it to be some magical gateway to a haven that I don't yet know.
The reality instead is such that I'm still stuck here, incapable of moving on, trapped by a lack of friends because you can only do so much, and be this fulfilled, Alone.

I wanted so much to just have a typical life;

And for that I've tried, tried

But it feels like everything's broken down as quickly as a card castle-

I'll have to start over, but how, and when- I do not know.

I just know that I'm going to cease being a teen soon,

And I haven't yet had good conversations, drunk nights, a little bit of rebellion and some little secrets. I haven't been to a class party since the last one in year two that screwed me over; I haven't travelled since the one in year two made me cry; I haven't relied on someone long enough to make him/her a part of myself.

I don't even want romance, for I can't possibly drag someone down to these depths for the sake of accompanying me; Not yet, not when I'm starting to feel for someone- and he's such a happy, wholesome person.

I just want friendship, a normal life-

And is that too much to ask for?

If nothing is wrong with me- and certain people have tried to convince me otherwise-

How is it that I'm still stuck here, living the consequences of a past I had no control over?

The answer doesn't matter;

I just wish for it all to change, for my unchanging desire to finally

Come true.

The wind of change.

It's been a week or so since the As ended,
And truth be told I tried waaay too hard to be productive;
Causing my exhaustion to burn me out like a weak flame atop a collapsing candle, making me feel worse than ever before-
Asking about internships, worrying about my chances at acting since there aren't any opportunities available, and the teacher had said that I'd have to commit to six months of 9-5 internship, doing anything and everything they ask me to (in other words, writing, collecting tickets, arranging goody bags- anything but my simple wish to be an actress)
I didn't mind learning more of it meant that I'd eventually get a shot at acting,
But six months of six days a week just seemed way too intense for someone like me, who feels emotionally and physically drained from the past two years. Furthermore, there is no guarantee of a chance at acting either, and I'd much rather spend that time and energy entering into a year-long training programme targeted at young actors, for that at least boosts my chances in a more direct manner.

Then, I shifted my desperation at living my dream online,
Creating loads of accounts and finding no opportunities either-

You get the idea.

Somehow I continued those searches for two days, sleeping at four again and the such.

Eventually I wondered about becoming a professional storyteller like I dreamt about a few months ago, and went searching for that, too.
Turns out that takes another 2-3 years before I can get the title;
And the me now will be able to be all 'let's go, let's try it out'
But the me from a few days back convinced herself that she had too little time and too little potential; she told herself that her future was hopeless

And then she lost the strength to even clean her room,
Because there was no one to celebrate the ending of her exams with her,
She wanted so so much to go to prom,
But there was nothing there for her-

And the loneliness and empty feeling consumed her again.

.
I honestly feel like I could revert back to that me any moment,
But for now I am optimistic,

And while that lasts, I want to articulate my future for the me that sobs at four in the morning.

So. Listen.


The wind of change is coming, whether you believe it or not.

You're someone who is fortunate enough in terms of the family you have and the freedom (to a certain extent) to do whatever you want for the next eight months.
Don't waste it,
But don't rush it either.

Don't feel like you have to shed off your old skin and transform into something else over the coarse of a few days;
Know that you have the privilege and the skills, and confidence,
To become what you set out to be in the first place.

Yesterday you finally got new shoes to replace the faded-with-holes-everywhere pair;
You got a new phone cover to replace the one that is a breath away from splitting in two,
You asked to do storytelling again,
And you finished reading a book.

Today you went and got your first pair of contacts, spent two hours practicing the coaxing of fearful eyelids to stay open, your mind to empty of torture devices used in wars in the past, and trying hard to learn to be gentle, cautious, but still smooth enough to place a watery piece of gel on your eye.

You then got some new bras
-Turns out, like most people out there,
I've been wearing them wrong and wearing the wrong ones;
The shape of my torso could be much better but it isn't-

You get the idea.

Tomorrow you'll start looking for make-up,
Figure out that grooming thing
Apply hair tonic to your scalp to stop the thinning
Moisturise your curls
And dye it in a few months, but only when your hair feels healthy again.


The following day,
You'll clear out your wardrobe and figure out what your new style is;
The things that should stay and the ones that you hoard for no particular reason;
You'll go shopping but only if you feel like it-
You'll finally get one good pair of heels
And hopefully buy one other pair to change up your look.

The day after that,
You'll pick up books and paintbrushes again.
You'll go to the bookstore and buy a paper cutter,
You'll dye papers again and make bookmarks like before;
You might even buy new stuffs to try out journaling.

You might want to go get some foam, fleece, ping pong balls and wood to try out puppet-making, then slowly figure out how to incorporate it into your storytelling.

You restart your storytelling this weekend,
There's no need to start things off with a bang- you don't need to rush out puppets or some legendary story yet-
Start off with 2-3 simple books, doesn't have to be Christmas-related,
And just use your voice and gestures the way you always have.

Then, find out if you want to volunteer to tutor kids at the temple, or deliver food to the needy- Do you want to start volunteering at the orphanage before figuring out the puppet thing, or before- Do you want to start recruiting partners to help you out- because you can only do so much, that fast, alone-

You can take it slow,
Because you aren't a miracle and you
Don't have to be one.

Why don't you start,

By sleeping at 12 tonight instead of 4,
Wake up at around 7-8
And start by trying out pancake recipes?

You want to bake,
But that calls for an oven
More planning, and shopping for materials.

That too can be done in small steps, in your own time.


.
Point is,
You have so many dreams and ambitions
But you still feel wrecked from everything that's happened at school.

You feel exhausted,
Because the insomnia has been getting worse and your
Brother gets sick of your sadness- Doesn't really understand how you can't do anything but cry at times- And tries to be harsh with you to 'slap you awake'.
But that never works, because empathy gets people to open up and heal; and aloof, cold, harsh statements only serve to make people clam up tighter.

You still feel very screwed up,
But that's okay.


Expect several recurrences,
Expect periods of reflection and crying for two hours straight like before.

But know this,
As many others don't believe in this about you-

You're not content to weep forever.

And you'll change.

You want so much to wake up and go to sleep each day
Thinking about how wonderful life is,
Not how hopeless your future is, after all.

It's just that different people have different rates of healing,

And I'm telling you that it's okay to be slow- So long as you don't ever give up and stop.



.
Do you feel that?

It's the wind of change.

And with a little luck, a teensy bit of magic;
That 'g' just might turn into a 'c',
Giving you your chance at a new life.

Crossing spaces; Pouring cement.

It's true what they say about clearer sight as you get older.

I can't say that I learnt anything in particular after such a crushing year,
But at least I see things better and I feel like I understand people more now.

I never did get to tell you about how, on one specific day I'd been too upset
And I ended up opening up to my brother-
Only to find out that he's been through the exact same things, even up to getting his testimonial withheld from him on the last day of school.
The only difference is, he had it much worse;
And he only got his testimonial back after finding it out two years later or something.

We used to be really close as kids,
But stuff happened and I was too young to understand his pain
So we gradually turned into roommates who simply existed under the same roof.

These two years have been different- and somewhat transformative
in that I've never cried as much over anything,
And that we've gotten much closer- I finally get why he was such a douchebag in the past
And I finally get why it took him so many years to recover.

Even now
I see fragments of his past plaguing him
And in him, I see ambition, an attempt to fight his past- and courage.
He has friends who are normal people (save for the few questionable personalities)
And he's trying to do something with his life.

I used not to respect him because he's morally loose sometimes,
And I won't go into the details of the things he does-
But I only ever used to see his inertia in life and happy-go-lucky attitude as something shallow and a product of laziness.

I can't say the same now;
I can't,
Not when I finally have a brother  and he seems so human to me,
Not when I feel like I want to help him someway in the mountain trips that he's organizing.

Sometimes carefreeness arise from dark places,
And it's not always apparent.

That connection at least is one thing that I've gained.


.
And just now,
I rewatched Perks of Being a Wallflower again.

It used to only be a 'sad movie',
But somehow it made me collapse into fits of tears because

It just hits so close to home.

I didn't go through abuse, or extreme bullying, or develop a mental illness
But I know what it's like to be so sad and messed up and lonely
To wish only for friendship,
To be on a downward spiral pattern.

And now that graduation is over:

I needed to hear from Sam that it does get better,
I needed to go through the process of coming to terms with your past and labelling it as what it is-

Because sometimes we convince ourselves that the past is over and done with-
But we can't even call bullying, 'bullying';

And when we finally figure that name out
It's a wound all over again.

I didn't think that I'd relate as much to a movie I once thought of as a mere literary product;
I didn't think that I'd need to hear
That although all these moments will become stories one day,
It is still happening;
Those moments are not just stories-

And that one day
I'll get to look at myself
And not see myself as just  a sad story;

I will feel,
Infinite.


.
Just yesterday I came to the realisation that even though
Just over a month ago I was feeling like things were never getting better;
That I didn't feel like doing anything with my life,

These few days the excitement of having the A levels end are finally creeping up on me;
I'm starting to make lists and plans of what I want to be doing after the coming Wednesday's 3pm;

I'm starting to feel alive again.


And I hope my life gets better,
Because I won't just be lazing around for the next eight months;
I'm going to be trying things and putting myself out there.


But there is this physical space that I'll have to cross,
Because some days I still can't fall asleep

This entire week I've been sleeping at 2.30-4.30;


And some other days I sleep at 3 or 4am;
I start feeling empty and sad again
And I wonder if my past defines my future,

I wonder if I'll ever reach the milestones that I've set for myself;


I wonder if I'll ever find a place to belong;
Some good friends and the realisation of my passions and dreams.


.
I wonder
If I'll still be a sobbing eighteen year old who can't fall asleep till it's three in the morning

If I'll ever
Grow, and finally get on the journey to happiness.

I want to take my time.

I sometimes think that the sadness in me is enough to rip me apart.

Some days,
I get this feeling in my heart

Like sobbing out loud is a necessity,
Because otherwise I really could drown in my emotions.

And then I feel better,
But the reflecting I do about things tear me apart again,

And I am yet again reduced to tears, and tears alone.

It's not about telling someone anymore.

I think,
It's about time I stopped trying to 'get over' things when I'm still stuck here, trying to recover from the consequences of the present.


I think,
That people should stop finding new ways to convince me to 'let go', and 'move on',
Because that's what you do when you don't cry anymore upon recalling certain things;
That's what you do when you really are ready, and capable of,
'Moving on'.

And I'm not ready, nor  am I capable of doing so.

So stop trying to make a miracle out of me and listen,
Listen to the things I have to say.

It's a battle, Healing.
You struggle, and each day feels like a fragile cake that you're trying to bake- and ice- all at the same time. Only that's not how the rules of baking- or healing- goes,
And you end up with a sludgy mess on your hands.

Please understand that I am not content to keep weeping without trying to change my situation for the better,
That I am not pitying myself for what I've gone through,
And that I really am trying to get better.

Still, you don't recover overnight.

There are relapses,
You try to be better, and for a while you are- till the wave of emotions hit you again, and you're back where you started.

You go into this cycle of 'I'm all patched up' and 'I'm still screwed up',
And sometimes it takes telling someone about what happened to trigger a new breakdown;
Sometimes it takes seeing the ones who screwed you up, happy.

Either way,
Please understand that I will be better in the future,

But the last time I tried to rush 'getting over things',
I ended up in denial about bullying;
I ended up in a year of seclusion
And I ended up with a loss of faith in people.

That's why
I want to take things at my own pace this time.

If I ever get upset again,
I'll cry and treat myself to all my favourite things to feel better.
If I ever lose sleep again,
I'll not try to force it
And accept that sometimes, that's what happens when you get too exhausted to sleep.

If I ever
Felt like things were hopeless again,

I'll try not to force optimism

And I'll face my bruised heart as it is.



.
A lot has happened since graduation, you see.

I spent the last few days of school talking to a classmate, a cca mate, and a teacher.
I learnt loads of things I didn't know before,
Things like the fact that it wasn't just the group leader- but my former, only friend of two years who worked together to spread all those rumours about me, things like how people in my class detested me for both that- and the fact that I speak well, and they labelled me 'pretentious' for 'speaking in proper sentences with proper enunciation', for 'not code-switching'.
I am quoting those words, you see.

And it struck me that rumours are hurtful and all-
But what's worse is the fact that you have to combat profound loneliness in facing a national exam because of such an injustice,

And that I'd faced so much hostility for such a nonsensical reason- that my strength in public speaking has yet again been used against me.

Things like how even on the last day of school
A classmate (I'm pretty sure I know who it is)
Deliberately didn't pass me my SGC- because, you know. Reasons.
I had to be alert and careful about announcements- otherwise I wouldn't have known about the same few people who're still trying to screw me over, even to the very end.

Things like my cca mate telling me that what happened back when I was fourteen-
Was 'bullying',
And the truth had hit me,
Hit me like a cruel bus accident
Because then now I'm forced to really see them not as bad friends-
But monsters, fiends who really, really screwed me up.

Things like how this one classmate became unbelievably nice to me the last two days of school,
But I quickly sensed that it was one of those 'I want to leave without regrets or guilt' kind of situation, and that these were not friends- just selfish people who are easily swayed by rumours- and yet I'd spent an hour telling her the truth- sobbing to the point of being unable to speak- not wanting to be dramatic, but really failing to contain my emotions.


Well,
Things like that.

I wept and I sobbed; there were times where I couldn't seem to speak
But still I eventually got better these past few weeks- because that's what opening up does:
It helps you to- Deal.

And I'm still left with 1 and a half A level subjects,
I'm still 80% sure I'll have to retake the exam

But at least I'm really, really, starting to mend.

I don't feel so broken anymore,

But I really don't want to rush it.

Profound helplessness; forgotten meals and inability to function.

Loneliness is frighteningly crippling.

It robs you of optimism, of reason;
It makes you despair even though there is hope as long as you don't give up;
It tears you apart, forces you to sob harder into the bedsheets-

It takes productivity away from you,
And I suppose the only surprising thing is how long I've gone without human interaction;
How far I've managed to come in spite of that.

Holy shite, you think.

You should have been broken from that pain a long time ago,
But I suppose it's the way I've been good at filling my heart with something else,

At accepting solitude and loneliness as it comes,

And something so soul-breaking is finally creeping up on me

Now that the terrible truth of facing a battle alone, alone-
alone-
That threatens to gobble you up.


I told you,
I'm not looking for romance.

I just wish I had a friend with me.



.
Recently I began studying with someone from drama club;

We didn't do much- just sat together due to the overbooked seats
Didn't talk much, only the occasional jokes and the dinner together;


I have to say,

I've been so starved of human connection that that alone makes me feel a million times better.


And last night, just when I thought this was going to continue
And I asked him if we could study together on weekends as well,

He said yes

And I just felt so much lighter.



Now though, he says he can't and I'm gonna have to do this alone again.


It's the emptiness from being alone that engulfs you,


It's how nice it felt to finally not eat a meal alone in this school full of grey walls and suffocation,

It's the feeling of having someone comfortably platonic, who doesn't try to fill up the spaces with unnecessary words.



And now it feels terrible again;

I wish I wasn't so needy,

But I really am not always like this.


Still, be alone for four years straight;
Face an insanely stressful national exam

And literally not have any conversation with anyone (I mean that you stop talking for a month straight)

And you slowly but surely

Start to break.


I just-

This is so hard to face alone.

Cringe.

I probably shouldn't have done that.

Uhh... I'm cringing real hard right now

And this is rather embarrassing to talk about,

But here's a place for sth like that anyway, soo...

I'll talk about what coming to the beach after the ending of the preliminary exams feels like later- it feels like being alive, and breathing, and feeling like things aren't that out of touch anymore- 

But for now let's focus on this... thing.

The wind is so strong it forces your frizzy hair in all directions, and the mat you set out to lie neatly is constantly warped into strange shapes. 

In that comfortably humid but hot morning air, you manage to lay things out and get comfortable. A look around, as you always do,

And you see people, construction, waves lapping at the rocks hungrily and patchy grass amongst sand that has long ceased to be clear and golden; in fact, it is covered in seaweed and litter.

Then something comes into view, and you zoom in on it: A man,  rooted next to his bicycle. He seems to be struggling with something, and you return to your book, only to look up moments later out of curiosity.

He too looks at you on various occasions, and you think nothing of it, returning to the book that's slowly starting to take a tragic  turn.

To take a break from it, you look up.

Then it registers in you that the solitary man is still squatting miserably around his bicycle, and that an hour or so has trickled by.

Tell me that what I do next isn't what anyone would do.

Tell me that I'm dense,

But it was just natural to me that I should walk over and pass him a packet drink since I've brought along a lifetime's supply of beverages and snacks.

"Hey." I say, passing it to him. "Thought you might need it."

He looks up, eyes a clear blue, wrinkled at the corners. He must be at least twice my age.

He thanks me, and it occurs to me how throaty it sounds, like it's not coming from his diaphragm, like it's from a bad cough and he can't really speak that much.

Deed done, I walk back to my mat feeling better since the need to do sth for someone who's probably feeling frustrated on a hot day here is gone. I felt lighter, and became increasingly absorbed in my book.

Later, when he'd fixed it, he'd come over and- you know what, let me write it out for you.

"I can pass you my number, we can chat over drinks or something"

I say it's fine,
"It's so that I can pay you for the tea." He says, referring to the packet drink and smiling down at me.

"It's fine, I'm glad you fixed it." I smile back, thinking that that's all to the conversation.

"No, no I can pass you my number and we can hang out sometime if you wish."

Something seems a little wrong here, I think.

"It's okay, I only passed you that drink cause it seemed like it'd help." My hands were in front of me now, and I was starting to feel uncomfortable.

He then proceeds to still tell me that I can have his number, really, we caaaan hang out,

And then he finally explains, "I was confused, you came over to offer me a drink when I can get them from way over there."

"Ohhh.. It's a long walk, that's why...." My voice trials off, and the realization of this hits me, right smack in the face, and I low-key wanted to burrow myself into the ground with a bouquet of white roses in my hands right there and then.

"I just thought," I answer slowly, the full impact of what I did staring at me, judgemental and unforgiving

"That with the weather like this, and your bicycle breaking down, you'd be feeling rather frustrated-"

Here I was interrupted with more "you can have my number, I'm giving it to you cuz you want it so much" 

And I just kept saying "no,  I'll pass "s until he finally left me.

"Phew", I mutter to myself.

.

And you might want to know that just fifteen minutes ago, as I was typing this,

The sound of a tyre screeching to a sharp halt had interrupted my reading,

And guess what-

It was him again.

Just as I was cringing over my own mistake, too.

"Here's my number, please have it, I-"

And I had to interrupt him because this was all becoming a little too much.

In his hands he held a small slip of paper with the scrawls folded within it, and in my best measured tone I say,

"No, listen, listen."

He stops.

I take in a fraction of a breath.

"I wasn't hitting on you, I really just thought that-"

"It doesn't matter." He stops me, words dragged out in the kind of tone that seems as though this is the most obvious thing in the world.

Shite, I think.

He might even be fifty, and I'm clearly a teenager who's only interested in reading a flipping book.

"I want you to have this number, because you can call me in the future and we can talk. "

Holy shite.

And here's where I think I was really being an unpleasant person,

Because the thought of holding onto a promise, scrawled on a piece of paper- that I, with my kind of personality, will somehow feel like I've agreed to-

Made another side of me surface,

And my voice hardened, taking on the firmest tone I could muster.

"I have to-"

I was staring at his hand now, because he's literally been shoving that paper in my hand, or in my bag, and trying to leave right after;

And I too kept picking it up to give it back to him-

That perhaps I was too harsh and impolite there.

"-reject this number, because I really don't see you that way."

He stares at me for a moment, letting the words engulf more of the peacefulness that I had just minutes ago, with my mat and sand-covered slippers.

And I opened my mouth to say "Sorry about this, but-"

He quickly tells me "It's okay", and cycles away like nothing ever did happen.

.

Suffice it to say,

That I severely regret doing that little gesture that I thought was alright to do;

I don't think I'll do it again though- perhaps it is such that any form of thoughtfulness equates to love interest, even if that guy could be two to three times my age.

Oh... well. If you think that you make bad decisions, and are awkward, think about me.

You'll feel better, I promi- Oh, I uh.. assure you.

.
Frankly, that ruined my mood though

And the little getaway that was supposed to keep me from feeling so bad all the damn time began to sizzle down to the ominous brew that I now am so familiar with.

Perhaps if I wasn't so alone
I wouldn't get so many creepy interactions with old men

Perhaps they would stay away from me because people in a group are protected,

And I kind of wish for my strange and disturbing encounters  to not happen again- if I'm going to have something love-or desire-  related happen to my life, it'd best be from my age range, with a non-desperate guy who doesn't forcefully impose his ideals on me.

Can I please have a normal and interesting story, the same way most real life love stories happen?


Perhaps,


 if I weren't so alone, I wouldn't seem like a target.
Perhaps then all my confessions wouldn't be coming from creepy, thirsty old men.




.
EDIT:
You know what,
I'm really pissed off now that a few hours has passed.

And to ensure that I never feel anything like this again,
That mum doesn't have a chance at blaming me for attracting such weird people (because she did so today, and believe me..
I took damage.)



I'm not gonna do shit like that for strangers anymore.
I'll make myself even more unapproachable when I'm alone in public,

And self-pity is never gonna lift me up
So I'm just gonna work hard. At becoming someone lovable, so that I can actually make friends and be surrounded by them in the future,

Then I won't reach new lows like its a never ending pit,

Then I won't get so sick of people because whenever I try to do something nice,
It doesn't work out well and I end up detesting those people so darn much.


You know what,
I'm angry now,

Angry at mom, sad that she'll tell me I'm overreacting for the terrible way she insisted upon her view,
Angry at people, at myself, for letting the breeze and improved mood make me want to do something nice for people,

Angry at how terrible mom made me feel.

And it really hurt me. It's so heavy, the way I'm so upset by everything.
And I think that my mood just isn't picking itself up no matter the getaways that I arrange for myself,

But at least it's driving me to do something.


Goddamn it, never again- never am I making myself look vulnerable and accessible.
And even though the fault obviously doesn't lie with me,
It was the problematic guy, and the problematic ones who cross my path;
I know that I don't deserve having them do such disturbing things,


Mom's insistence that she's right has made me decide something.


That I'm angry enough to not even let this happen again.

I'm no victim,but I'm sick of all these creepy uncles.

Next time someone tries to force his phone number on me,
I'm gonna use vulgarities if that's what it takes.

And I'll rip that paper in half.

Why be respectful, when it only hurts you?

Still in the middle of exams.

I think I'm starting to trap myself,

I think I'm choosing not to take walks because closing myself in,
Not actually doing that much work anyway,
Is better than the guilt you get from actually going out and
Feeling like you've taken an actual break.

I think I'm caving in,
Caving in to my strange desire to close myself off further as a way to cope,
Crumbling a little,

Because I can feel so much better on one day,
Then so much worse the next.


I keep crying.


I dread graduation,
I dread shuffling around aimlessly trying to find a picture frame that I can squish myself into,
I dread the gloom of wishing for the day to just be over,

Because I won't belong,
Like I never did.

I dread playing games with the class,
Becoming sentimental over people whom I don't care about, who don't care about me;

I dread typing with a stunted finger and an expressionless face like now;

I dread wishing to miss something because we all know that there's nothing to miss in this school, not friends- only the drama club- not the class- only one or two teachers-

I dread shuffling around with a smile painted on my face because I won't
Belong
;

And I will hope to be.






.
I cry so easily now.

I wish I didn't,
But I'm starting to close myself off

And it feels like a prison of loneliness whereby I don't think that talking helps;

My eyes are dry now.

The oasis that was my emotions have shriveled up into a crisp brown leaf;
I feel happier one day then
Worse the next

I repeat myself because it feels like I'm getting it out, but I'm not.

'Tis not yet four but it'll soon be.

Some days I collapse from fatigue at four in the morning

And some days I get so freaked out
I awaken at four.

Either way...


I have this perpetual look of exhaustion coupled with a strange form of alertness now.

It's like your eyes are sunken in,
The dark circles foreboding and revealing,
The veins in the whites of your eyes tell a story;

And the rest of your face looks focused, at attention,
Because your lips are quirky at the corners and your skin looks rested,
You have a gaze that seems to drink in everything: because you are, you're trying to memorise so much;

And adrenaline keeps you going.


The crash from that rush-
Worse than sugar or caffeine-

Is dizzyness that takes away your conscience for a little while.

Few seconds,
And you're back
But even sitting down makes you feel so much more rested.





Right now,
'Tis not yet four but it'll soon be,
As always-

I need to stop screwing myself in this way,

But it's hardly a choice anymore.

Windswept hair; Flushed cheeks

You ever cry so much you begin doubting your mental health;

You ever,
Question how often you should be upset,
With matted hair and sweaty palms,
Given the pressure that you're in:

Are you the only one,
And is it normal- are you still- alright, are you genuinely pushing too hard-
Should you slow down, because this can't be good.

I honestly feel like sleep has become a serious issue,
Because I never used to be able to function on so little, and for so prolonged a time.
What's more, all-nighters used to be by choice
And now it's only a symptom of something being rather wrong about the way I'm living-

I legitimately can't find a way to rest because I just feel so
Terrible,

And I've been weeping over things that make me have rather extreme thoughts-
I've been refusing to tell anyone about this,
And I push people away in the sense that I don't confide, and I don't open up,
And the slightest sign of disinterest I take to offence;
The slightest form of disregard is a reason to keep my heart locked deeper;
And the slightest shout at me
Amplified, recorded, and used as a means of building a border.

I choose not to talk to people because I feel like they don't care enough-


Oh god,
This is worse than puberty.


(Alright now
let's not go there, but you get my point.)



.
I'm pretty sure that this is just a passing thing though.
Come December,
When everything is over,

I'll finally be freed from these swords and poison
And I'll finally stop injecting toxins into my bloodstream
From my very own mind,
I'll stop convincing myself that I'm a failure,
That I really dislike myself for how deep I can fall sometimes,

And I'll finally go back to my somewhat, on-selective-days cheery self.
(Perhaps I'm not that better off after all)


For now,
Please,
Allow me sleep-

I haven't had my eyes not burn upon closing them
Since a long, long time ago

I still can't forgive myself.

I still am unable to go beyond 'if only I didn't' s,
And I still feel like so much of a failure.

It is an extreme mindset
Because I remember going up to that guy with the humble and genuine speech, telling him heartfelt compliments
Or how I was unable to feel jealousy for the contestant from my school who got first,
Because she's such a lovely and caring person;

I still feel like all of it is my fault
And that I definitely could have done better if only I wasn't condemned by my own mistake.


It's all my fault,
And I feel so diminished for that.

I just..
I just can't seem to forgive myself:
I feel like I screwed up, and so I'm a screwed up person, you know that?

I feel like I can't live with this, because I'm regretting so much.

Bad decision.

You ever feel so genuinely disappointed in yourself
That you feel quite sick-
You've been running on around 4-5 hours per day, with continuous diarrhoea
You can have a national speech competition in one day, get placed third and
Be told that your decision to make a joke in Hokkien, a dialect
'Really cost you', because some did not understand what it meant, and you'd assumed it to be universally known.

Then, you'd cried from disappointment because that's what happens when you feel like you've made a mistake; you've gone on ahead and done something that you thought would work, but didn't
And you can't blame anyone but yourself,
You can't be jealous of those who did better than you,

Because you feel so much respect for them.

End result is that
You convince yourself that you're a failure, that you'd made the worst choice in the impromptu rounds, because when the audience laughed you'd thought that the humour you had was working,

And you just can't accept that it was a mistake, not exactly a lack of skill,
That got you to third place.


I know that it's haughty to cry over something like this,
I know that results isn't everything,
That if we are to be honest regardless and embrace how competitiveness makes us- me,
So concerned over placements and rankings,

Many have coveted this position, and I really shouldn't be crying..

Not when others are more upset because they haven't gotten at least a 'third',
Not when it seems like I'm crying over a trivial reason.


But it felt a little more than that;
It was a mistake that I regretted, and the fact that the judge himself told me that it'd 'cost' me,
It was the fact that it felt like so much of a waste: something I've been working on since April, sacrificing sleep and study time for it-
has crumbled, and it's because of a one, single, bad decision in the heat of the moment.


I feel genuinely disappointed in myself;
My head's spinning and I feel really unwell,
But sleep seems to have deserted me again,


And I just don't think it possible to get rest;

Not until I've gotten over this shitty side of me.



Meanwhile,
Prelims happens in two weeks...
I'll continue revision soon.

The air conditioner's howling.

I wonder if this is what it means to be chasing a dream.

I know it's not a delusion,
Just,
Faraway,
And blurry.

Because it feels like you're on a marathon trying not to stop, then realising that you're actually rooted in one spot on the treadmill, all the while trying to fly to the other extreme end within your mind.

Recently it's gotten better,
Breaks help
And staying hopeful about most things remind you of the good that could be waiting just round the corner.

That's why I'm not giving up,
But that is not to say that I'll shoulder all of this with a smile, either.

Writing helps;
I'm being an emotional wreck right now
So really all I need a warm mug of nostalgic fulfilment
And a hug

But you end up wearing the spikes embedded in your heart
On the outside instead,
Meant to injure, meant to warn, meant also as a call for help.


It can't be this bad for everyone, can it?
Someone just as easily broken down by stress said this aloof line of 'We're just a bunch of kids taking an exam'
And indeed, we are. It's not everything, but will you not admit that as an actual person experiencing it and not a bystander
The impact multiplies tenfold
And you're all of a sudden, more willing to embrace that side of you that can break, that wishes and hopes not to, but does so anyway?

Do not say what you cannot embody;
Do so perhaps as advice but not an opinion,
That is hypocritical and selfish.


.
Still,
I suppose you're right.
It's not the end of the world even if it feels like it,

And I'll just continue feeling better one day, then worse the next.


(How are we capable of so much.. weakness, I don't know.)


But I suppose that's what makes us human,
I suppose that's a part of me regardless.









.
Exams start again on Friday,
We have that same speech competition held on a national scale for the semi-finals on Wednesday.
And there is much to do but I suppose I'll sort out the bitterness of my tears first.


I hope you aren't in this kind of a place-
I hope you get a good night's sleep free from arguments and vigorous anger.

Note to self: Don't make it worse.

Clean your room,
Let not the chaos of your mind become the chaos of your living state;
Eat your meals,
Let not the fatigue you have over what troubles you become the fatigue of life itself;
Groom yourself,
Let not the grime you feel from tear-stained cheeks and too much mucus production become the
Gritty dirt under your overgrown nails, or the grease on your scalp;
Get a haircut and try not to
Let it become another reason for your frustration: You may have met someone who chopped half your head off despite your request, someone who only after doing so does the 'actually you look better with really long hair but it's too late now- FYI it's not my fault for this';
Write your essays,
Let it not become a stranded cycle of self-criticism that renders your mind empty and crossed out paragraphs;
Cry, and cry,
Let it become a way of de-stressing because what else can you do;
Weep, and mutter,
But let it not become a constant state of mind; a weekly meltdown-

Try not to get too angry over the littlest things,
Take;

Care:
Don't shatter when it hasn't even begun.


For there are those who will make it worse for you
And it is up to you to take it in.

Note to self:

Don't,

Don't you dare make it worse.

Feeling vulnerable.

I didn't think it was possible to feel this bad about anything,
But here I am,
Feeling like I'm suspended by a thread-

It's been a week since my last post
But it feels like so so much has happened
Mainly because I go through this cycle of 'Yeah this is possible' in the morning and multifarious thoughts of 'I can't do this' on nights and midnights later on.
I want to leave school the moment I step in,
And I constantly feel like I can't stay on for the never ending schedules of tests and consults.

It's like I'm crashing and burning,
Repeatedly,

And it feels like I replicate that every single day.

I want the diarrhoea to stop,
I want to sleep more
And sleep less to finish more work,

I finally found a good tutor but his family doesn't want him to travel this far for me
And my brother just told relatives about this even though
I really hate it when people are big-mouthed and insensitive enough to not understand that
I didn't want this to be shared, I didn't want this known by more people than is necessary.

Call it stupid pride,
But I care about privacy.

We don't go around sharing things that make us feel terrible about ourselves,
And that relative is someone who happens to judge and jeer,
With comments that don't cut as deep when it's on days whereby you don't feel as weak-

But these days I'm the complete opposite of my bounce-back self,

And I just feel like shit all of the time.

The thing is if I studied just as well despite the emotions I wouldn't be complaining as much,
But it makes me want to run away
And I sit at my desk tearing up while trying to do calculus or figure out why my GP grade can swing from a B to a failed grade so easily,
Then chiding myself for it.


Mom has been really understanding lately;
I don't think people realise this
But the emotional reliance that we have on such people
Is more than we should,
And yet way more trustworthy than we'd trust ourselves to think of it as.

She's leaving tomorrow for a little getaway trip though..
I feel needy and a little whiney,
But I suppose this is the kind of thing you keep quiet about
So let's just settle with chocolate ice cream that you lie to yourself about:
Just one more spoonful,
Then we sleep.

Bent knees; Free fall.

Fear can be consuming,
And I suppose it just takes a little direction
Because some falls can feel like
a little tumble off a baby cliff.

From now on
Moving on from this string of panic attacks will be the key;

I can't afford the 'some days' where
The whirlwind of our thoughts have the function of a loop,
Which is why

On a final note
I leave you this awkwardly pieced word-block,
Formed for the purpose of leaving with you all these songs,
To send you my emotions in a parcel,

Because few care enough to open them in real life,
And it doesn't matter anyway-


It just really helps that I'm able to share through this channel of mine,
that I have been productive this weekend,

And that I've just allowed myself to sleep for twelve hours straight,
And encircle my mind with tracks that are like journeys themselves.

What a pity party.

I'm in a really secluded and dark corner of my life right now.

It's upsetting, it's exhausting,
And I know I just gotta manhandle my brain and my efforts,
Exploit the resources at school and
Fuel my way through this.


The thing is I want to be positive up here;
I know that you're looking for an interesting/uplifting piece of writing,
But I just can't produce that right now.

There's literally no humans aside from mum whom I can talk about such things with,
And there are limits to the emotional dependence you can have on one person.

I am really sad...

I failed most of my subjects even though there were improvements in the previous term,
And now there's three months to As and I feel like
I'm back to square one,

I can't do this,
And I gotta retake it next year.


I'm trying really hard
But it's not working
It's not working,



And tears flowed out of me because there's a faucet in there that's faulty and needs tuning,
And everything (the usual sit-alone-lunches, the usual things that the bitch does to you to make your life harder- not that it works- , the usual I've-done-so-much-but what the hell, it ain't working.)


The noise,
The fact that people can be yelling beneath the block at all times;
Hammers and drills are part of the routine because
This world never runs out of things to build, or reconstruct,
Bro blasts music and they speak in such loud voices,
Tonight, where I finally tried out tuition for once
And that guy overcharged us, was unclear and impatient in his explanations,
And laughed at me constantly for an hour straight for not being able to do math.
I'm having diarrhoea as often as forgotten lunches, my period is late and painful
And I'm angry at a lot of things, mostly myself.

Everything,

Gets to you when you're stressed
Even though under normal circumstances
Those same things wouldn't have the power to rip you apart,
You can struggle at math for an entire day straight and still emerge with your mood intact,
And you can eat alone and fill your mind with interesting arguments or a good song.


I just..
Want to say that the exams haven't been a kindly period,
But then again
They never are.


It's just that this one time it doesn't feel like optimism,
This one time I can't go 'Aw, that's too bad; But I still got this- all it takes is more effort.'

Haaaaaaaaahhhhh~

Breathe.

I still..
I still got this.

I wanted to cry; but it's such a waste of time.

You ever just stop,
And have that moment where you're consumed by a singular thought:

I can't do this shit.


I can't-
can't-


And for once,
Not completing your sentence isn't the latest trend of speech;
It's because you really don't feel like finishing a sentence, a phrase, an expression of all that's so frustrating.



.
Alright now,
You're eighteen.

This is part of life;
It's a rite of passage that everyone deals with.

There has been an improvement,
Though albeit too slow and
Too

Little.

But you're not,
Little.

You Can, and you will.


And in the past few days you may have cursed more within your mind than you ever did before,

But you're not screwed.

Not yet,
Not until you give up.

(Oh look,

Another
Failed.
Grade.)


.
I'm not sleeping tonight.


I have two months before the final Prelims exams,

I have a month to finish as much practice questions as possible.


You're eighteen,
Now go do this shit.

I think I just need to take a chill pill.

I don't want it to be over yet.


I need a-
Give me a break, give me,

Ack,
Because I constantly feel like I have to be 'relaxing productively',
Jumping between the Singapore River and museums,
Flashy clothing and plugged in earphones,
A desire to connect and a cut-off aura from how good it feels to take things at your own pace,

A want, a need,
To feel like I've let off enough steam during these few days to-
Be able to function again,

Because exams have just ended and yet in a mere two days I have felt as though
I had to be studying again,
And to counter that I have in fact been
Going out to different places, mostly on my own,
Enjoying things like there's no tomorrow.


And now,
You wish to go to Universal Studios
(Alone, which sounds like real fun)
But there's the issue of money and how rushed it all is,
There's the issue of not truly being able to enjoy it because the thought of having splurged will nag at you at the back of your head,

And you think:
Do I want to be spending the last day of my holidays in such a drastic manner?
Do I want a simple movie and an order of pizza,
Or the trip to Gardens by the Bay (that place on the inside you have to pay for) which you've never been,
Or more museums,
Or the Science Centre,
Or this one place that you feel compelled to visit,

Or just stay,
In your little room because that's what you like best,
But it always feels, and felt like,
Wasted time.




There is little time
And it's not like you're dying after this, so what's the hurry


But you don't want it to end,
You don't want this to be over
Not like this,

Not when it feels like you could drown in school and its hostility,
The tear-ups that happen and the frustration at not being able to perform.


Give me a-

Give me a break.

Shaking; After.

I wondered if I should have made something like this as personal as it's turned out to be,

And if I should be ripping out my heart like it's a trophy 
For something as shallow and stressful as a competition,


But a part of me wanted to.

It was a little voice that said to be honest,
That wanted something to be heard, and known,

And I knew that by sharing,
I'd be confronting it, 
Glaring at a tiger when it's about to claw me to shreds,

And threatening to kidnap its pups without actually meaning to.


I suppose,
I just wanted to be brave- enough.

PESA Script – Jieying 

"Compassion"

The thing about compassion is that it's constantly said to be a good thing: it is what drives you to help, understand, and be nice to people. However, it does seem to have gotten to the point whereby it is almost as though the more you feel for other people’s pain, the more humane and loving you are, thereby defining you as a “better” person.

But to make compassion an indicator of how good we are inside is to rely too heavily upon our capacity to feel- after a while it does get overly exhausting to empathize with each and every person, because it’s not like your empathy alone has the power to change anything.

For a long time now I've been taught to feel for people. And while that sounds like a good thing, I personally believe that it is what makes me feel too much, which means that I end up crying over documentaries about violence toward women, workhouses that fuel the clothing industry, I could go on, because news like that upsets me, it's hard not to go to sleep thinking about what it’s like to be a victim, the injustice in this world, and the people in power who refuse to be inclusive towards certain groups of people. You think about what it’s like to find someone of the same gender desirable, and be bullied because of that; you think about being discriminated against purely because of your gender, for hate to be directed towards you simply because you’re not "right". And feeling all of that just makes compassion that much more difficult.

Apart from that, I do sometimes wonder if compassion has limits; if not feeling for someone who hurt you makes you cold hearted and inhumane, and if there are circumstances whereby anyone else would feel compassion, just not you. If someone is responsible for sleepless nights and too much crying, had done something so hurtful towards you, then remained unapologetic and self-righteous about it, and for that someone to be your only friend of two years- would you feel for her if she turned out to be mentally unstable, to have a family history of that, and for stress to affect her in different ways? 

If someone else spread rumours about you out of jealousy, then set both the group and class against you because she’s good with people and good at acting, but  turned out to be someone who engages in self-harm, would you feel for her?

The truth is, guilt and the need for compassion haunted me: Perhaps I could have been more understanding towards that friend who turned out to be fiendish; perhaps it was indeed something about me that drove someone who hurts herself, to hurt me.

But I’m human too, your pain doesn’t justify you causing mine, and I honestly feel like I can only have, or choose to have that much sympathy for you, because you made me cry, too.

The thing about what drives compassion, or the lack of it-  is that it’s always a long story, it’s always complicated, and there are always too many details if you were to sit down and tell someone about it. That’s why it’s okay not to feel compassion sometimes, that’s why it shouldn’t ever be an indicator of how rich our hearts are, because of how oversimplified it is- being compassionate may make us humane, but ultimately it is because we’re human that we can’t have too much; that we refuse to feel it for certain people.

And I refuse, to let this one word define me.

.

There you go, the script for the speech competition.

For the previous one (which was on 'A lone wolf dies, but the pack survives'),

I must say that coming in 1st had adrenaline coursing through me, that it had my heart racing and my cheeks flushed, that compliments from people made me review, over and over again, the words I'd delivered and the way that it'd rolled off my brutish tongue.

Then there had been a smug thought-

Wellllll...

I'd expect nothing less from me. *smirks*

(I feel like I'd be murdered in my sleep pretty soon)

But just because you're aiming for something doesn't mean that you'll get it,

And personally it'd seemed to me that the one version I delivered was the worst out of all those rehearsals.
I was kinda disappointed in myself, and surprised by the results
but, well, I guess it ended alright.

.

Due to that, (which happened back in April, holy mother of god when you think about how quickly time is moving)

I am now representing the school alongside two other people,

On the topic of 'Compassion'.

Today was when we recorded that speech  for the preliminaries, and speaking to a camera is different from speaking to around 800 people,

But the irony lies in how I'd have been much more comfortable delivering something this close to heart

To the latter group like the previous competition 

instead of a black machine with one glassy eye,

And that I'd felt rather awkward trying to stare into the camera and not feel like a desperate virgin making love to a guitar, but-

Well, it's done, and that is that.

I should have asked for a second take, but somehow I'd felt confident enough in that

moment

And became increasingly worrisome and insecure on my way back because

It's always been strange to me,

How teachers would give detailed remarks for other students when it comes to presentations, and say things like 'the pauses were good, but you could be louder, etc'

And give me one-word conclusions like 'Nice'

Or, if I'm lucky like today

'Very nice.'

I wasn't sure,

Because I have a certain level of confidence in this

But when you skip over me in your evaluations,

I feel like I must have either been drowning in mediocrity,

Or been up to standards without being excellent enough.

It didn't help that there was, 

And will always be,

That one nervous guy who constantly asks you why you're so calm, then says that he's dead, dead, dead, that he's sorry 

And your words to comfort him or to guide him in vocal warm-ups and gestures don't seem to get through.

We ended up staying for much longer because of the number of retakes, and while that was okay-

It gradually made me feel like I should have done just

One, extra,

take, too. 

Negative people make it easier to second-guess yourself,

And I suppose the only difference between us is that 

I don't express it while you do,

And I'm too afraid to speak up about how I'm 

Unsure.

I suppose that causes me to be in an even stickier situation,

But oh well.

The way I'm writing right now makes it feel like a twelve year-old on too much sugar,

And I've got much more to say

But for now I think I've rambled enough.

Pepperoni 🍕

"How much is it for a large pizza?"

"Uhh- I don't know"

"Gee, you're so helpful."

"Do I look like I've got the social life to be ordering pizzas regularly?"

"Tsk- Dis called general knowledge."

"Ha, at least I know about Trump."

"Huh?"

"Pffft, that's the kind of general knowledge that I'm talking about."



.
There you go,
A typical conversation between my brother and I.

Don't get me wrong though, not reading the news doesn't mean that you're non-intelligent,
It's just that your interests lie elsewhere.

Here is where many of us aren't interested in politics
And (I don't want to generalize)
I happen to have met dozens who discuss the news and elections,
But that's probably because of the kind of school that I'm in, and the GP essays that we have to write (in which case it is out of academic pursuit that we pursue general knowledge)

There are groups of people out there who aren't keen to know about what's happening in this world, too.

Still, I find it too judgmental to call such people dumb-
Ignorant, maybe
And this may be coming from the fact that I love this place,
But it is quite common to be apathetic towards politics or otherwise
So I wouldn't ever think of such people as 'less', or myself as the 'betters',
Because my parents are sorta like that: They're a little stagnant, and we can't converse about the world, or my other hobbies
But through the mundane we share, we enjoy, and that is the way it is here.

It is kind of a bummer, the way they share trivial details and talk about the price of vegetables, but it's not like my parents are going to evolve, soo...

I can't cover all groups here, but I hope that at least it sheds light on the fact that not knowing doesn't mean that we're lesser-
It just means that personally I am going to try to read up more (because I too am wading around in ignorance)
And hope to be someone interesting enough for such conversations in the future.
On the other hand, acceptance is key.


(And teasing my brother is fun, too)
.
Oh, and if you're interested, the pizza arrived and

"Ask if he can give us the late coupon for a free pizza."

"Oh." I turn, handing the money over.
"Could we have the late coupon?"

"Late coupon is only when we're late."

"Oh, okay. Thank you."

To me, it was a simple request.
Then, the delivery guy left.

"Why didn't you ask properly?!"

"Wha- I.. did though?"

"You should have been-"
And here he did a girly wriggle and lotsa impressions that'd be disturbing if you read them, sooooooo
Let's just gracefully evade that, shall we?

"Well why didn't you do it then?" I retort,

And he replied with "I'm a guy! You're a girl!" As though that explained everything.

"What does that even mean?!"

"I was expecting some sort of performance y'know- Nice and sweet- you were so pissed!"

"Well sorry I'm not like you and can't flirt- I don't use my pheromones for a flipping coupon!"

(If you didn't realise, we shout a loooott..)

"But he's a guy! Nobody likes guys!!"

"You were shirtless, you could have pulled it off!"











.
Yeahhhh....

I may love acting
But I just don't act in real life-
Not even close.

Dreams

It's raining outside,
And I'm just enjoying the sound of raindrops and thunder amidst a storm, swirling about like a chaotic rainbow sundae.

I've been really exhausted lately;
It doesn't help that stress keeps me up and noise makes everything worse,
Since I'm such a light sleeper that someone opening the door makes me snap awake.

I've been rather sensitive to people's shouting
And the constant renovation works that haunts the entire country.

Still, here's a beautiful song to keep you and I happy 😊
https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=gN24W_psMpE

.

Although I've probably only got one chance at prom (unlike other schools and countries, we've only got one to look forward to)

It's not happening

Simply because I've got no one special- friends or otherwise- to make it a special, once-in-a-lifetime thing.
People make up the places,
And I'm not exaggerating when I say that they are what makes up special events, too.

I may be self-reliant when it comes to having my own fun and relaxation,
But ultimately you gotta have friends for prom in order for it to become a fond memory,
And I just don't have that.

I wouldn't want to be like a pest or leech either, so that's that.

I'm lending you a dress of mine, but I'm staying home
-Somehow,
It sounds a little pathetic huh.

The doe-eyed twelve-year-old-me from back then wouldn't have foreseen this;
I think she'd looked at the boxy structure of this school and thought that she liked the atmosphere, the simplicity, and got excited fantasising about sleepovers, climbing over school gates, black nail polish and inside jokes.
I think, she might have thought about wearing a gown of some sort,
Cliched as it is-
Walk down a certain stairs
And have someone special waiting at the end of it, palms open and inviting,
Her own sweaty and cold,
Sheer fabric trailing behind her.

Then, there'd be pictures, frozen memories
And she'd dance and talk with friends she'd cry over,
Because she'd miss them.

She'd talk about studying overseas, she'd hug and pat those who're looking to take flight and blossom. She'd have her own plane waiting for her, she'd be plagued with uncertainties that gradually transform into excitement.


She, now eighteen-
Is instead writing in third person about what it should, or could be,
And yet is.

It's alright,
No prom

But she has the rain and lightning to keep her company
In her little room with the Christmas lights and the
Lavender bed sheets.

Repetitions don't make me falter, they just bring about sadness, is all.

I know what this is going to sound like, I know it seems like I'm self-inflicting all of it.

It's always been interesting to me how people tend to tell me so much,
Because it's almost as though they do it with the assumption that I wouldn't judge them for it.

Thing is, that is true to a certain extent in that
If you were to tell me about your interest in BDSM, or the fact that you're thinking of auctioning off your virginity, or that you've taken some form of drug in the past, or all the different emotions that people seem so willing to share with me-
I'll simply think of it as a part of you and be fine with it.
It might even be intriguing, we might even converse more about your 'secret'
Because there's absolutely nothing wrong with that.

Still, their willingness to speak that much means that I listen, and learn way too much about them.
This new friend who moved me so on my birthday-
I told myself that everyone has flaws, that it doesn't matter that you can be a little unfeeling at times, or that you're selfish and bad-tempered, that you tend to take certain things for granted;

What was more important was the fact that
I haven't been treated so well by anyone from this school, not ever.
You were more excited than I was about this year's performance,
You brought a flower for me.
You recorded my speech for me, you recorded my performance,
You say good morning to me
And we eat certain meals together.

That's why it shouldn't matter, that's why I shouldn't be making conclusions about you.






.
But one shopping trip with someone is revealing; it shows you pretty much everything there is to know about someone if they aren't putting up an act,
And you told me way too much, you really did.

It made me realise that all this warmth coming from you will probably last for a couple of months at the most- I finally opened up to you, but this is the honeymoon period and that is why you're treating me so well: It took so long for us to get close, but it seems like once that happens we're well on our way to a bad end.

I know it sounds pessimistic and extreme.
But there were too many things that scared me upon hearing it,
Because you sounded just like all the other friends that I've made in the past.

"I am really possessive, I tend to get jealous of my friends if they get close to someone else. I get upset when I'm not their only friend, yknow? Like they're not saying everything to me."

"That's okay," I say
"I understand why you'd feel that-"

"I don't want to be like this, I've lost a lot of friends because I feel like we're drifting apart, and I push them away. I'm afraid of getting too close to people because of that."

In my mind, I thought
That's alright, that's probably because we're all frightened by the notion of being alone.

You then went on to tell me about past friendships,
And gradually it became clear- because you summed it up:
"I feel like friends have to share everything."

I paused.
"You have to tell me everything, otherwise I feel like you're not sharing enough and I push you away."

Then, we were at that point whereby you were repeating yourself,
And jokingly I said, "So.. if I manage to make friends in the future, the two of us wouldn't have.. this- anymore?"

.
I didn't get an answer from you.

But everything I heard, I thought about,
And you'd continued on about everything else-

See, I want to help those who're important to me;
Giving back is the basis of relationships,
And I figured that even though you told me about how you tend to yell at your parents and shut them off, or your inferiority complex, or the fact that most of your friendships ended over nothing- not betrayals, or bad treatment, just your own possessiveness and tendency to withdraw over the slightest change, or the fact that you don't feel for certain people,

You were still worth it,
To me.

Throughout the entire shopping trip you were asking for advice,
But whenever I started speaking you would cut me off with more issues of your own,
And when you were trying on clothes I waited like an awkward boyfriend outside the changing room, entering only to give you feedback,
We were walking down streets and I told you where I remembered we should go but you didn't listen, and we ended up confused afterward

But that too was.. fine.

Constantly you whipped out your phone, taking pictures and videos of me-
I am the least photogenic person out there, and extremely conscious when it comes to cameras
But you repeatedly commented on how good I looked, comparing it to yourself;
When we looked at dresses you commented on my physique, comparing it to yours,
And I remembered how you talked about your inferiority complex when it comes to speaking English, then focusing too much on my speaking and asking me for tips.

It's not that I can't take a compliment.
It's just that you're putting me on a pedestal, and you're comparing yourself to me even though
I just want us both to feel good about ourselves.


Self-worth shouldn't be a constant reassurance..
Everything about you,
From the fact that you need people to share every single detail with you-
To the fact that you don't listen too much when it counts,

Felt like
Pressure.


I still appreciate what you did for me,
Which is why I'll listen and be there for you.

Still, it doesn't seem like it'll end well if I continue this relationship-
You seem like you'll engulf me someday
And I'll be chomped down on when the novelty of my loneliness wears off for you.

Your negativity isn't contagious,
But it sure takes away the fun from things-
I bought the maroon blouse instead of the yellow one when you told me to get the latter,
And your face blackened.
You know where the issue lies with you, but you aren't listening to advice despite telling me that you want to change it,
You want someone like me to tell you everything when I'm the kind to share only when it cuts too deep, when there is meaning in sharing, when it isn't just self exposure for the sake of it, for the reason of 'knowing each other's secrets',
And you say things like "I keep my distance from people because I don't have luck with friends"- a thought too pessimistic and untrue for someone like you, who doesn't eat alone, who has the opportunity to be jealous and lose friends that way.

.
I was surprisingly honest that day.

I told you that people should be given space, that us having our own lives is the key to having a healthy relationship, that one person's life shouldn't revolve around one human,
That there should be privacy, passion, a willingness to embrace change and be happy for that person,

And that I was highly uncomfortable because you were flattering me too much and not giving yourself enough credit,
That you're actually a good person, that you deserve good thoughts, that you should feel more confident.

Because it didn't feel right that you should say that you want to go on a diet,
And that your goal is me.

Same goes for speaking English,
Because I know I've got things that I'm proud of, but am trying to improve,
And that I'm not the best,
That I shouldn't be worshipped with comparison verbs.

You are your own self, with your own kind of beauty, within or otherwise.


And you just told me waaaaayy too much, alright?

It's funny that someone like me should say this,
But everything I learnt about you finally made me come to terms with this.














You're not someone I want to keep....

I may be terrified of the sadness that comes with being alone
But temporary concern like yours, and too much negativity
Ultimately isn't something that I want.



Again,
I may tremble and choke up with how bad it feels on birthdays and the such,
But I won't settle.

I won't settle for someone whom I know isn't good for me,
I won't settle for an unhealthy friendship even if it means that my loneliness is alleviated.






Because, after all

Humans have to be somewhat complete before they take on someone else's burden,
Before they form connections with them and learn the beauty of balance, and to give.

The same goes for romance- Why do you think I stay away from strangers on a train?

I too need friendship from the right people before I can learn to love,
I too need to build up my sense of self-worth and identity.