Some days I forget

Some days I forget his face,
what a cuddle or kiss feels like,
what its like to feel safe and calm.

I know I once felt those things, but they disappear so quickly into the abyss nowadays.
Just last night I watched old videos of us, of him, and his face was so foreign to me. It was like meeting him for the first time, everytime.
My parents feel a little similar to that, too.

.
I haven't been able to stop shaking since I woke up.
It feels bad, but I can't feel it, somehow.
I'm not really here.
.

Then I stumbled upon a video sent to me a month ago,
and upon playing it- his voice was the first thing that was blasted.
Immediately my heart sank, and the inevitable heavy feeling of death was upon me.
I felt like the bed was shaking.
It was weird.

I don't think I can listen to his voice now without getting nervous or heart drops.
And previously it had taken longer to forget his touch, face, voice..

but now its getting a little blurry,
and the thought of him scares me.

it scares me that my mind isn't working the way it used to, anymore.

I'm tired.
He never was there when I needed him- when he's angry, disappointed, busy, tired, having fun-
he's not around, just as he hasn't been around during the Vietnam trip, when the crash first started, or the KL trip, when it was progressively getting worse, or now, when he's happily back in Malaysia, and I'm left to die here.
It's not his problem, so he doesn't care. he doesn't want to deal.

Each time we get back together he says sweet things like 'i'm sorry I didn't try harder for you in KL. FYP. whatever place it was.'
but the very next time, I'm left to die all over again, by myself.

I wonder if my memory is accurate.
Did he threaten to tie me up, or did he actually tie me up when I was having a bad night?

Why do these memories play like a badly shot student film,
with me looking at myself in terms of a master shot, with blurry details?

I keep getting flashbacks to when he threw me back onto the bed..
when he cornered me in a corner of the room,
me begging him to let me go home..

For some reason,
I recall those in third person, too.

Each time I vowed never to step into his room again,
never to give him the power to hurt and bind and gag me..

but the following sunday I find myself back,

because, well...

Everyone needs someone.

What is love if I can't feel beyond the panic attacks, the mind blanks, floating, scratching, fear, fear, fucking, fear..?

I want to stop going to therapy. it's only been... probably three sessions.
But I can't do this anymore.

I want to end it soon.

I keep finding new places to jump from.
I'm constantly rehearsing the pain, emotions, fall, gravity, in my head.

I just need to gather courage, now.

I've finally been thrown away.

It's a strange feeling, that.
It's a heaviness in the chest that never seems to go away,
one that sometimes turn into a sharp pang of pain that makes things unbearable.

A burst of emotions, a fit, several panic attacks,
and all of a sudden those intense pains disappear.
I like to imagine all those dark swirling clouds of uncertainty withdraw, sharply into me, like the time-reverse-edit of a glass jar that shattered into smithereens.

And then I feel numb again, just heavy, and somehow it feels better that way.

I forget a lot nowadays. And I can't seem to focus properly when people are talking to me. Can't process a lot of words on the screen, can't recall what was said to me minutes after it was delivered.

My therapist has found an official diagnosis for these symptoms,
and I'm still in shock over that.

All I could think, still feel, is
"I don't think so."

Yesterday after the session I sat at outram park mrt like that day a year ago,
crying my heart out, floating, mind blank, not knowing how to get home and wishing I was home.

Funny thing is a year later I am still having an attack at the exact same spot, still attached to the same guy whom I. similar to last year, couldn't reach out to for help.

I don't know how long I stayed there. The memory is already fading.
I just couldn't breathe, couldn't move, or think.

And in that moment,
I'd never felt more alone.

Called a helpline and somehow made it back in one piece,
but now I have an inherent dislike for that place and I don't even care if that's immature.

It really just felt like I was spontaneously combusting in public and people were rushing past and it was all too loud and I was dying every second, over and over.
And no one was around.


.
Snippets of him gagging me keep coming back to me. Initially I'd somehow forgotten, but one day that scene returned-
And I saw myself in a third person point of view,
with his fat hands that I once loved, still so love,
over my mouth.

The fear I had in that moment I can't exactly recall..
I just know it rendered me paralysed at certain points.

Since then the days have been passing at a painfully slow rate..
I am never sure if I had done something instead of just thinking about it-
and I sometimes wake in confusion thinking some things have happened when they did not.

Mervyn has finally stopped texting me.

I don't even need to block him anymore;
I've finally been thrown away.

Funny thing is I feel extreme happiness, safety when I'm around him-
It's the only time I feel calm in my life.
The rest of the hours tick by with my heart perpetually racing..
And that heaviness, that cloudiness, that uncertainty,
that perpetual feeling of dying or feeling like I want to die,
that floating feeling when I'm in public and cars are zooming past and it's all too loud and I'm really fucking frightened but I can't move, so I just blank out and wish I was somewhere else.

When I'm not with him,
The pains and anxiety meld together into a haze, and every day is hard to live through,
and I'm not even lovesick, just broken I suppose.

I just feel like I'm melting.

I've finally been thrown away, and it feels like a relief.
I know it also hurts a lot, when I suddenly burst into tears or suddenly get an attack or get stuck lying down somewhere and feel like I'm already dying...

But right now as I'm writing this I can't feel it.

I just wish I could disappear.

This, emptiness.
This absolute condition of being really alone.

God I need a drink.

God, I wish I believed in one of you. Any one of you.
It'd be so much easier that way.

Like the trash that I am,
The way I always always knew I would be,
I've finally been thrown away.

No one can ever love this person.
No one can ever stay.

I'm better off alone.

I wish I was dead already.

Each time I think of him,
each time I think about the slightest form of physical intimacy,
I feel like killing myself.

Because I can't explain this feeling.

But I just don't ever want to be touched by anyone again.
I don't want love anymore.

That way..
no one can throw me away anymore.

That way,

I can sleep in the rubbish bin and chuck myself in there and no one would even notice.
and somehow that feels better.

just leave.

I want to disappear.

Eventually the suicidal thoughts, panic attacks and shaking become the norm.
Eventually it starts to feel like things will be way easier if you were alone.

There's so much that has happened and yet I don't feel the strength to pen it all down. As if any of it matters.

But my ex, now my boyfriend, is going to become an ex again.
He thinks I'm playing games.
Well... I don't feel the need to explain, because if someone trusts and understands you,
they will.

You don't have to justify anything.
But honestly-
that doesn't matter anymore.

I really don't care about having him or not.

Because I just want to disappear.

I have sleeping pills with me now, and a stash of vodka and cider.
Used to drink vodka mixed, but now I simply drink from the bottle.

There's an appeal to getting drunk fast.
There's an appeal to heading out under the influence of alcohol.

The world blurs, and you don't feel the pangs of anxiety, or the scalding comments of someone who claims to love you.

I don't feel loved.
I know exactly what he will say to that.

I want to be alone.
I know exactly what he will say to that.

Still... I feel the same things.
Maybe because I'm too afraid to lean on mum and tell her exactly how bad it is,
Maybe I don't know how to explain this ennui, this hopeless loneliness...

Maybe I just need to be brave enough to swallow all the pills and drink as much vodka as I can before passing out.

I'm just afraid of the consequences.

Should I die, and there is an afterlife, I do not wish to be punished for 'wasting the gift of god'.
Should I not die, I am terribly afraid of brain damage, or distressed parents and an angry ex.. boyfriend... idk.

For months now I have thought a breakup was way better than staying together, for many many reasons.
But he will probably just assume I'm an ingrate and blaming him for stuffs.

Really though...
I just feel empty.
I don't know what the fuck all of this is for.

I wake up each day hoping I was dead.

I picture the many ways of doing so.
I also picture him getting into a minor accident and forgetting all about me.
I picture jumping into a time machine and going back to the first date, and not agreeing to it.

I want to be alone.

I'm terribly lonely.
I don't know what I want.

I want to cut myself.
I want to swallow pills.
I want to suffocate.
I want to jump.

I don't want consequences.

I hope I disappear.

20th Birthday

This time round,
it no longer feels like such a huge thing,
like I have have have to have people treating me specially.

It just felt like another day.

And good things like meeting a friend and getting a lot of plushies from the crane machine,
and my ex surprising me with a Phantom of the Opera performance..

Sometimes life is so good,
but because I've been under a lot of pressure lately trying to change myself for the better, and feeling like everything's my fault, and constantly scolding myself with the same words he tells me I'm not good enough with- hypocrite, sulky child, so on..

On my 20th birthday, around midnight,
I was coming back from the show, was gonna spend the night in my ex's room,

But I felt so deficient and misunderstood from the fight we had before,
when he told me he was thinking of leaving me,

And though he was being strong in pulling my hand the entire way back
I was somewhere else.

I felt so small and unworthy of love, and the anxiety was so bad, and everything seemed so hopeless,
I really wanted to run off into the road and let a car hit me.

I pictured how fleeting that pain would be.

Somehow I made it back with him,
and since he was so exhausted from work and having to deal with me,
he dozed off almost immediately after we were back.

Sounds of gentle snoring filled the room,
and I was seized by an urge to open the windows and the metal gate that protects you.

Looking down, I pictured leaping to my death,
calmed by the prospect of this constant fear and worries ending.

The truth is I feel like a mistake, like everything I do is always wrong, like I'm a burden and hard to love- because the one person I care so much about keeps telling me all these issues he doesn't see changing about me.
The truth is I've been trying. But he doesn't seem to see the struggle, the pain, of doing so- when all I wanted to do was kill myself.

I stepped onto the stool, and looked down.
Good thing he was asleep, because if I were to go- it wouldn't be by disturbing anyone. They would just find me lying dead, but I wouldn't have scared anyone by letting them see me trying to climb over a railing, or by receiving a note from me.

The sounds of snoring continues.
I felt strangely calm,
and out of place,
in my makeup and long gown and tear-stained cheeks,
on my 20th birthday.

I found it amusing how poetic that was.
And I wanted to jump but it all seemed too low, because the 7th floor wouldn't kill.
I wanted to go to a higher place,
but that was the moment it occurred to me that I actually didnt have the strength to go out and hunt for a high building.

I was afraid of the dark, the night.

So i closed the windows.

The panic began again,
because I felt so useless and unloved, unknown..

and i repeated the entire procedure trying to at least sit on the railing-
but there were people opposite, that I noticed all of a sudden,

and the fear of that made me stop again.

Thinking back now maybe all I should have done was wake my ex up,
but in those moments you wish you were alone so ou didn't trouble anyone.

and the poor guy was tired from everything.

.
I never could confess to him about all that. Simply told him I was glad he didn't see what happened, but I guess that made him feel pushed away, so that was that.
How can I have the heart to confess such a thing..

I had this conversation with my dad before.

He told me he had several suicidal days in his youth, when his mind was blank and he didn't know where he was.

Funny,
I think its fortunate how some people survive such days on their own.

Dad told me its just a typicalstage of growing up,
that its a waste of youth, of life,
because we're already here.

And the funny thing is I've always stood by that optimistic notion about life.

But somehow...
somehow,
everything feels meaningless.
I feel like I'm worth nothing at all,

and I feel so lonely.
There is so much that I tried to tell my ex, about how I feel-
my family understands what I'm saying,
and my dad sees me for what I am.

When he spoke to me that night,
the things he said made me feel like I was loved wholly for who I was.
He pointed out my flaws, but he said they never harmed anybody, and that he knows I try really hard.
He said I had an overly soft and kind heart, that that was good, that he loved me for it.
And he told me I was kind, told me my worth.

It was all so hard to believe,
because I don't see all that about myself,
and from what my ex said about me,
i don't feel like he sees that either.

He didn't allude to the softness or kindness of my heart even once.
He didn't see how hard I always try to change for the people and things whom I love.
And how I always blame myself because when I love someone, I think everything they do is right- because I trust them more than I trust myself.

But these are answers you don't tell the one you love,
because if he doesn't see it, then he doesn't see it.

and I've given enough answers as it is.

One thing was clear though- my father's love felt unconditional.
My ex's love seemed to depend on whether I was able to rectify and correct everything bad about me ove three weeks.
He says my attitude is bad, that i hasn't changed,

But I've been trying to alter my thinking so much.

And I don't blame him.
I absorb his words deep within my soul.

And it just feels so lonely when he doesn't see that.

.
I've just asked for breaktime.
Because I really love him, and because I hope only to love one, in my life.
I'd hoped for this to work.

But he probably wants to break up, considering how done he has been with me,
and his blue ticks at the moment.

.

I'll not drink tonight.
I'll try not to have panic attacks.

And I'll try not to want to kill myself.

.

Y'know,
the good thing about writing an angry post after we broke up,
that he saw,

means that he won't ever come back here again to read what I have to say.


.

I'll try to believe in what my dad said,
about this suicidal phase being temporary.

Because I've never fallen so deep before.

Billie Eilish- Lovely

Self love is such an iffy thing.

In this one and a half years since graduation,
I feel as though I have overcome so much and seen so much of the world.
I started having a lot of confidence in myself, in what it seemed to show the world, in what I was and what I had, as a person

But confidence doesn't equate to self love;
In fact, if I had known that the two weren't really related- I would have been more careful when I was building myself up.

Just had another panic attack-
These things are fucking terrifying when you are on your own and you are fighting and not responding to your ex's texts, and you're home and your brother is all the way in Nepal, and you always, always, find it hard to ask people for help.

Moving out of hall when I was having an anxious suicidal week was a challenge; I kept packing and curling up to cry at intervals, and the 15 bags didn't help either-
But I made it back, and here I thought the week was at an end,

But now I see that in my lowest points I am unable to be my own best friend;
I hate myself for having these panicky flaws, for having to cry and shake in a corner when everyone else seems to not have to do the same,
And when my dance partner made things uncomfortable, I didn't think myself important enough for the dance president to trust me, if I had told her;
I thought keeping quiet and bearing it in silence was better because all the damage was to me, myself, alone, and I could handle that.

I would rather I reacted in a way that suited the situation,
or which makes other people feel better, than to do something that would make me feel better.
I feel as valuing yourself enough to make good decisions doesn't apply to me.

And to be honest, I don't like myself very much.
My ex keeps telling me I have communication and behavioural and attitude problems,
And the truth is I can't not agree.

It's so much more convincing having someone you love deeply, who loves you back,
Tell you why you're so unlovable and hard to be with,
Because it confirms every fear I've ever had about myself, and whether I was ever worthy of love.

How can I love someone properly,
Be.. a Good partner-

When I can't say things in a way that gets my meaning across-
A flaw I now have come to terms with, because my ex told me, but also because I haven't interacted enough with people-
Missed,
the crucial few years I had growing up,
Locked up in my room, unable to talk to anyone or open up to them,
Unable to trust, to rely, on otherws-

I have grown so used to being alone that maybe now in a relationship all these ungrown parts of me are coming back to bite me in my ass.

I was never ready for a relationship.
I merely fell in love.

And now its hard because my ex doesn't believe in us splitting till we have both grown to become better versions of ourselves, before coming back together and being *able* to make it work.
He believes in coming for me now, or never coming for me.
And typing this now I can picture him telling me I have misunderstood his meaning again, that I'm oversimplifying, genralizing, putting words in his mouth and using his hand to stab myself.

Honestly...
I can't tell.

I feel bad and I feel things and I think sad things,
But when my first love tells me all these things,
I can't help but absorb them deep within, and think that he must be right.

And it makes me sad that he would tel me he is sick and tired,
"but not of me",
of,
putting up with my "honestly poor attitude".

Maybe I haven't been treating him right.

Truth is this past week I haven't wanted to function-
simply wanted to die, on the bed,
And little things like shadows and people and a lizard's mating calls are enough to cause me to spiral into a nervous attack-

So I really don't know why we had all the important talks this week.

I don't know why the times where I don't feel functional is when I try my hardest to be functional and make decisions,
Because he will hold me accountable for that,
And he will take those as words I said when I was lucid and logical.

But ahaha...
All I wanted to do the entire time was curl up into a ball and not talk, cry, and watch movies.

I have been shaking and unable to move and unable to talk,
And my ex helped me through all that,
But it still wasn't enough because when you are in that state you are convinced that you are a burden to the universe, and that people are better off without you,
And you need someone, if that someone is there,
to keep telling you that things are okay and that he doesn't hate you, and to keep hugging and soothing you instead of telling you to *stop*

When he told me it was emotionally draining, and what he was doing was the most he could do,
You understand,
because of course it was draining, the way you knew it was-
and when he was helping you through it one of the reasons why you were panicking so hard is because you were afraid that he would say that to you.

It's frightening to be vulnerable in front of the only one who has ever come this close to you.

It's easier to put up a front and crash alone,
cry and shake where there is no one to help, but no threat of emotionally draining someone you love, either.

Because his opinion matters;
And I haven't yet learned to not give a fuck about what he, he, he, of all people,
Thinks of me.

I really loved him for his help though,
and each time he as there with his warm hugs and singing into my ear
each time the panic ended, even for a bit-
I was seized with an urge to go official with him, and stick with him forever

Because I think he is the only one that can sing songs to me and hug me and carry me to the toilet when my legs aren't working, and I think he's a keeper.

.

So then it makes me sad that he will assume that I've forgotten all the bad nights he helped me through, as he told me he would do,
If I were to leave him.

Sometimes,
I don't feel understood.

And I try to tell him what I do think and feel,
But it never quite comes out the way it should have-
Because it annoys him and it leads to argumentz

And at the end of it all,

I always feel so lonely and unsure of his love for me.


I feel like everyone else around him will be better to love, nicer to love, easier to.

After telling me he's sick and tired (but not of me)
he has invited me out for a bazaar, something he knows I will like.

But I haven't responded,
Because what he's told me,
All the issues with me,

Hangs in the air between us.

I have been trying to fix them,
Really, really, trying..


But he told me he's sick and tired of me.
He told me he feels like he's talking to someone who talks to herself instead of to him,
And he blames our lack of sharing and *real conversations* on the fact that he can't talk to me, and that hes bubbling up because we can't seem to talk.


And I can't help but feel that encircling me

And its hard to meet someone when you're feeling unloved for your worst sides..

Because if he's sick and tired of me,
Then what the hell are we doing, meeting again and going on a dizzy ride of romance?

Telling me he's sick of putting up with my poor attitude,
When the reason why he fell in love with me in the first place was "my attitude"...
is a very sad thing to hear.
And it makes me feel deficient.

Telling me he's sick of my attitude is the same as being sick of me.
And I would fix what I had to fix...
With time.

If only he didn't expect me to stop everything wrong with me overnight.

If only he didn't keep telling me how fucked up I was,'
Because that's how I feel about myself,

And hey.

When you don't really like yourself,
And someone you love deeply tells you exactly why, and that he's sick of it all..


it makes you wonder what the point of meeting is,
if he doesnt like you that much afterall.



.
Just now,
when I was panicking-
I whispered something to myself.

I can't be wishing for someone to come and hug and save me and make it all okay for me.

What I *should* be wishing for,
is the strength to get through all this,

because people have been asking me to hang out, I am getting all these fun photoshoots in my life, and if I were to apply for acting and modelling and tuition and storytelling jobs again,
I know I'll get them.

The problem now is I don't feel okay,

And I don't like myself for it.

So we need to start there.

we need to learn to be a functional human being,
we need to be able to *enjoy* life- instead of suffering through it.

I need to feel worthy of love,
because right now every word he says comes as a slap that I don't recover from.

.
I miss him a lot to be honest..

And last night I drank some whiskey and vodka hidden in my room
And almost asked him to cab over

Somehow
When you miss and love someone,

All the issues don't matter-
You just want to see,
Him.

Finals has just ended,
and with that, my first year of university.

I have to say, it's been a good semester. Life has been good, even if I'mstill struggling with anxiety, nd I'm currently in a dilemma about my ex.

Just had a really, really bad day.
To be very honest, I've had so many of them that I don't understand why this is such a bad one.

It makes me want to push everyone away,
and it makes me want to jump off a building.

Sometimes,
I get the urge to come to a quiet spot in my beautiful university,
like I am doing now,
(and mind you, in a year- this is the first time I've done this, so I am proud.)

I come to a quiet and peaceful spot like this,
and cry.

Times like these I feel well and truly alone,
because its hard to reach out to others
and sometimes i cant get warmth from my ex.

Sometimes all i need is a hug...

Actually most times I just need a hug.

why is this such a bad night.



Recently I've overcome a lot in my world.
Overcame anxiety and met the friends and family of my ex, stayed to interact with them
Though the old me would have ran and stayed miles away.
Kept going to dance practices even though my dance partner made me uncomfortable and I
sometimes did not know if he accidentally touched me, or not.
Maybe its cuz he asked for a fling and jokingly did a lap dance when I went to his room naively thinking we would establish rapport as friends and dance partners.

I feel more integrated with dance people and the other friends I have now.
There was never a need for a lot,
and I have stopped idealizing friendships and waiting for soulful connections a long time ago.

I have also stopped spamming jobs in an attempt to fill up the craters in my heart,
I stopped taking them on for money,
I focused on myself,
what I needed to do...


oh shit.
It just occurred to me that in having my bad day I had completely forgotten about my appointment to a stomach specialist- because when this happens all you can notice is your thumping heart, sweaty palms, and tears, y'know?
And I had been waiting for this appointment for 3 months.

It was supposed to be one of my big steps forward in keeping track of my health, in taking care of myself.

Never mind...

Sometimes this happens.
My ex tells me i  hve blatant self-hypocrisy, and if I keep speaking like the way I do, then no one will know me.

I think the thing about loving someone is you let them tell you things.
And I don't think he comprehends how deeply these words sink,
in my cavernous and lifeless heart, much like the depths of Lake Baikel.
Oxygen and life thrived near the surface, but deep down its dark and without life.

I'm sorry I'm such a burden.
I'm sorry I trouble everyone around me.
That's why I don't reach out at all,  don't you see?

Some nights I feel really bad-
though nights like this one are increasingly rare,
and it makes me optimistic.
, and I recall the student at my school that leaped to his death, that the press covered up,
And I think.


I don't think my ex understands how scary it is to wake up from a nightmare with him yelling at me and me in tears, then hyperventilating to wake up.
What if this is just self-pity...

I always have at least 2 people scolding me in my head.
And 2 others yelling cynical comments into my ear.

AM I okay?
Have I become such  flawed person that...
Nevermind.

I keep recalling the times I wqas so broken from the fights we had.
That one time, we were at vivo rooftop and he told me he was thinking of taking a break, then we fought, and I was on the train and I didn't know where I was, and we fought, and we fought,
amd I was at outram park mrt crying so hard unable to head home because it mattered so much that we were fighting, and I couldn't feel warmth.

I keep feeling this love, this strong, aching love,
this emotional rollercoaster,

This,
wish,

for just a hug.

For understanding.

I try to say these things, I do.
I told him what I needed.
But he asked me what *he* needed,

and really... during his weakest moments I do try my best to be there. I send him long messages on how I am there for him.

Maybe though..
I'm still not enough.
Maybe I don't deserve to be loved.

Maybe someone who sometimes gets too nervous to leave the house for dinner,
who, upon coming out- deems that as her largest achievement for the day,

Doesn't deserve to be loved.

And here's the thing, right

I keep hearing his voice in my head telling me that everything that I'm saying now are unrelated to each other, and I'm lumping them together,
And that I'm reacting, or overthinking,
That what i'm saying is stupid

and he's probably right.

What do people do.

I'm in contact with my ex again.

As expected, it's tough to let go of love...

it's such a stinging, painful feeling and yet it's so poignant, so powerful in that 3 months later it still hasn't gone away, not one bit.
But there's a reason things ended, and, well..

I'm so scared of being hurt again.
I'm sifting through every action and word of his, both in the present and the past,
to scan for warning signs that show me it's time to leave.

I fell too deep and i remember all too clearly how he had to fight on that day...
Right before my exam.
The way i used to have panic attacks because of fights, or his words, or my general anxiety regarding us.

Now..
I feel too much love to leave,
I just want to see him,

But I feel so much pain and resentment too.

It's making all that progress I attained in these 3 months feel so threatened.

And the fact that he finds my previous post hateful,
well.

it wasn't;
it was resentment and pain, and love that had turned bitter.

.
Maybe we went back to each other too soon.
Maybe we should have waited for another ten years, when we have both become better people,
But i missed him too much.

I miss his voice, his eyebrows...
Him.
Flawed and strange and strong and- the guy whom I loved.

And now I just..
I don't know why I miss him so damn much and I know I shouldn't reach out to him but I do.

I don't know why this feeling of love is so strong.

I don't know what to do.

What do people do?

First Love; oh hey- it's become an ignored blog.

Hey there,

Whatever benign souls who still read my blog.
In the one year that I've stayed off this platform,
A lot has happened.

I became a freelance actress, I did modelling, English tuition at 2 centres, worked myself to death, found fulfillment in that, and was happy for a while.
I continued struggling with having no friends and social anxiety- shaking in public transport and having extreme diarrhea before meeting people.

Somehow, it was the best part of the year back then. It was simple, filled with hopes and dreams and passion- and a very poignant wish from a lonely and starved soul (that which is me).
I only ever wanted to change for the better; find happiness, and lead a balanced life.

Then, I met someone.
He was everything I've always looked for in someone- or appeared so, anyway.
He seemed kind. Eloquent. Mature, loving, compassionate, highly intelligent, ambitious, passionate about what he was doing, and confident.

I went to a university too; the top one here- didn't really expect that, but that's for another day. Too much has happened, dear reader. Too much that even I am disinterested in going into details, because it's been such an eventful year.

.
We met at an audition for a film he wrote and was directing; a romance sci-fi film about parallel universes and the kind of romantic stuffs that makes you think a guy decent for creating it.

I told myself, before I met him-
that love was a secondary, optional thing. Work, friendship, and dreams and family is were life's essence was at.
But when you finally meet someone so completely your type,
You throw all that out the window.

I decided- that love was here, that I wasn't gonna throw it away just because I was too blind to see it for how precious a thing it was.

.

We met on his birthday.
It was a 6 day shoot, with us both falling for the other because of our work selves; because of how we both seemed so seamless and like the perfect partner for the other.

We dated for 6 weeks.
Learnt a lot about myself; can't say the same about him.
For the first time in a long while, I opened up to someone- and I loved the way he expressed himself, loved the way he seemed like the only decent person I'd met thus far (for there were many shady people I met on my many jobs; went on a weird first date, was sexually harrassed via text by another guy... ahhh. I've got stories now; stories I would otherwise not have had, had I not ventured out of my teeny tiny world and chosen to stop shaking in my room and actually go out there, and *do* something for myself.)

But back to the story.
We got together 2 days after my birthday, made it an official relationship-
And from there, the story began for real.

At the beginning, all was smooth sailing (as they always go)
Then, the guilt-trips came. Whenever I wanted alone time, or to go out for jobs, he would agree- then return to tell me, a few days later, that he'd been very sad and didn't feel my presence.
I would cry and feel guilt, then tell myself to give him more attention and love- For is that not what lovers do?

Then, the fights came. The first time it happened, we were talking about having kids. I told him I didn't really want any, because I was afraid of the guy dumping it all on me, based on gender roles. I was afraid of being tied down as a housewife when I still had my dreams, then thrown aside by the man of the house who brings home the bread, then forgotten and detested for being overly familiar.

But with him I was hopeful, because he made it sound so, so hopeful.
He told me he had chosen me for his life, for we were each other's first loves.
He told me he would propose after I graduated from university; he told me he wanted children together.

Before the first fight, he went on a tangent about how he had always wanted kids at a young age; but after what I'd told him it felt like he was indirectly trying to convince me of the same idea- because he kept going on and on about it. I then said something along the lines of "I understand where you're coming from, and I don't mean to disrespect that, but just putting it out there... I don't want kids till my career has stabilised at least, in my thirties."
And then it went from a loving discussion to him repeating himself, then me carefully pushing it away, and before I knew it- we were arguing.
It ended with him telling me I jumped to the wrong conclusions about him trying to change my mind; saying things like "If you think of me as such a malicious man trying to manipulate and convince you, you're wrong."

I apologised, and moved on.
Subsequent fights occurred, and I see them only as what they are now because I have broken up-
Things escalated to become such that there was always a pattern. I would say something that was neutral and careful to me,
and he would tell me it's wrong, or stupid. When fights got bad, he told me to shut up and listen. When I stated my piece, he picked on the words I used and argued about how the definition wasn't the negative connotations... blamed me for my negative inferences and kept telling me I was "reacting"; a term I now objectively see as him using my social anxiety against me.
When I told him how I felt, he would tell me it was wrong, that I "shouldn't feel that way". Whenever I brought up something, he would justify himself about the intentions and the word choices and inferences, bringing up fifteen points and telling me off when I interrupted; again telling me to shut up- and when he was finally done, there was no way I could address all the points without forgetting what the purpose of the discussion was in the first place.

I started having anxiety attacks.
When it happened, I couldn't breathe, I felt helpless and lost, and my mind wasn't my own.
There was so much guilt and self-blame, and I always felt small with him, for he was always telling me "you're smart enough to figure out what you did wrong. I don't need to tell you."
I kept asking him what I was doing wrong, because he kept telling me he felt lonely and unloved in this relationship, that it was caused by his depression and suicidal thoughts, that he didn't have a capacity to feel loved.
he would tell me that I was doing more than enough, but that he felt bad nonetheless. I would return from jobs during the weekends, and he would tell me how he pushes away jobs for me, but didn't tell me, that I "should have the sense to know", that he was crashing and have really bad episodes of depression when I wasn't around, that he couldnt tell me because he did not want to worry me.

I started overthinking everything, more so than I ever did. When I got snappy replies via text, I kept asking and asking him if he was fine. At one point I was out, doing social salsa dancing with friends and being really happy, but his crude replies made me wary-
and calling him and texting repeatedly- I finally found out that he was going through a bad night, and had jumped from the second floor of the building, tried to jump from the third but didn't because he was too scared.

I got so terrified I straight left the group of friends and cabbed over to his place, where he told me he saw how happy I was, dancing with other people, that he was in pain because he could never be as happy as I was.

I remember how much love I felt for him then, how much pressure I was under trying to be the source of support- because I never wanted to be the girlfriend that left because of his depression.

Brushing off my wishes at having a happy night away from him for once (for we met really, really, often, almost every other day- and when we weren't together, we were texting, or facetiming, or calling), I told myself to be understanding and supportive.

I started thinking about what else I could do, what else I could give him, to make his bad nights easier, to make him feel more special.

I made a car from scratch, with cardboard and intense taping and paint. I made a door that could be opened; made another cardboard thingy in there that I hung our pictures from, painting the background a bright blue with sparkles and stars. I printed out pictures from past dates and numbered them, writing out a parody version of our love story in parts- so that with every picture, was a part of how we met.
I folded 5 hearts, and poured my heart into one of the heart cards.

Then, when he was doing his final year project, I woke up early and baked a bunch of pecan sticky buns, cranberry walnut bread, and a huge omelette. It was meant to be a surprise breakfast for his team, at Coney Island (which is a secluded island area here in Singapore)
There was heavy rain whe I got there, and the team was sitting directly under heavy rain, equipment covered in plastic, entire team shivering and waiting for the rain to end before they could continue shooting.
I joined my ex then, sat beside him for two hours waiting for the rain to stop. it didn't, not really, so i merely got drenched being by my ex's side. Still, when he asked me to feed him one of the sticky buns, when we were both shivering under the rain, I felt-

Genuinely happy.

It was the sort of happiness that comes from giving, the kind that comes from seeing someone you love, smile.

We were left alone for a while when the team sought out shelter, and my ex- being the stubborn director that he was, chose to stay behind to look at the equipment, for fear that they would fall in the rain.
It was completely unnecessary by objective standards, but expected by his perfectionist professional  ones.

I didn't cab back because of the cost, but ended up getting a flu and skipped salsa that night.
Still, as I shivered with a slight fever in my bed-
I couldn't help smiling.

It was an addictive sort of sweetness,
because I don't think I've felt so safe from his aggression in fights before.
I would later, during the breakup, tell my ex that the only times I felt completely safe and happy was when I'd done an over the top surprise, and knew that he couldn't get mad because of the novelty of the surprise, or when we were getting physical and we were kissing.

Those were the times where I knew I was covered in warmth, and he wouldnt have a sudden mood swing and completely flip at one "wrong thing I said".

A few days later, the novelty had worn off, and we were having arguments again.
I had lost my voice completely from a throat infection, lost 2 hosting jobs due to that (For currently, I am also trying to become a part time host, amidst my other commitments)
And I just remember holding his hands and telling him I needed a lot of warmth and patience, because I get triggered by conflict and huge crowds and loud noises sometimes, and that I have attacks which makes me less functional than the usual person, that I don't want to keep having extended fights where I can apologise but not be let off for that one. wrong. thing. i said...

That I was trying my best to get over this, that I will try my best to communicate with him during fights, and not have those attacks as an excuse-

and to that he asked, "What're you telling me all this for?".

It was so hurtful that I didn't know what to say, so i simply said, " I don't want to seem like a burden", to which he said, "No, you're not a burden". And that was that.


Many, many other things, things I cannot fully explain here.

But I was under a lot of stress, constantly feeling guilty, and hurt by his words in fights, hurt by the way he would get so agitated he would yell at me, then tell me it was because I yelled at him first, hurt by how I kept having attacks because I was too afraid, not of conflict itself, but of his reactions, his words, the way he doesn't let me off even after an apology for something I didn't agree with, but yet still apologised for-
Afraid of his anger and how he would walk off in the middle of a fight to punch a wall, or hit his head, or scratch himself aggressively, before he came back to continue arguing with me.

I remember thinking about how it was at least a good thing that he wasn't hitting me...
But now that I'm away from him I finally see that it was how he made me *feel*.

I was constantly filled with thoughts of his sadness and anger, and how I could relieve that. I wqas addicted to the feeling of being loved after I planned surprises; so on a night I knew he would be back late- I cleaned his room up, pasted glow in the dark stars on the ceiling, and put sparkly Christmas lights and a Christmas tree in his room. I decorated little portions with golden piping, used cider bottles I saved up, made his bed, and wrote a little card.

That night, I felt treasured and happy and safe.

The next afternoon, the novelty had begun wearing off-
His depression was kicking in, and I was trying to be understanding.

The day after that, we fought because of one wrong thing I did, made up, made out, then had another huge fight because of another thing I said wrongly.
He even got so angry he refused to go out to dinner with me even though I was leaving directly after for a family trip overseas.

In that moment, the stress and feelings of loneliness, like I wasnt treasured enough- because he valued winning the fights so much, and failed to control his neediness and feeling so much, that it became a huge burden to me...
All that, accumulated over the 8 months, inclusive of the dating period- came crashing down on me,

And i went off to the family trip completely burnt out and broken.

In the 2 days that I was away I kept sending him selfies and messages, refusing to use being overseas as an excuse for being an irresponsible and unloving girlfriend, but I kept getting snappy replies.I held onto my phone, naked and waiting for the bath to fill up, telling him I was sorry for not having responded in a way previously that made him feel understood, telling him I would be there if he needed me, that I would be waiting for his replies.

I got snappy, one word replies. When I returned, it occurred to me thar this ws never what a relationship should have been, that I had dedicated myself to someone who didnt love me enough to treasure our time together...


And I met hm trying to give a second chance by telling him my feelings, what I hoped for to change, and to ask for a two weeks break before we started anew.

But he interrupted me when I was telling im my feelings, choosing to walk away. I made him stay by saying things like "I came here to work things out. and you're just leaving because you're hearing thing you don't wanna hear? once you leave, this is over. Stay if you still want to work this out, if you truly love me as you say you do."

He stayed, but didnt even apologise.
I then left, and he told me to stay and "wait and listen to my silence".

I stayed, and waited. Then left.

The summary of what happened next was he called me again later that day, asking to meet again to "confirm that we broke up"; then got into a fight again, then had the ultimatum "yknow what, let's fucking break up", before texting me again at night to tell me how unfair it was for him that I had set convictions and wasn't listening to his side, that I had no love in me anymore, that he wasn't sure if he wanted to continue this, now that i have brought up a break up.

Long story short, he kept trying to call me- but I refused to pick up, knowing the effect of his words and how much guilt I would be in if I took that call. I had done what I could; met him twice and it was concluded. I didn't owe him anything anymore.

That happened on Christmas.
The day after, I received an apology text, saying that he doesn't want to lose me due to his pride. I rejected him, telling him its too late, that his true self was what I saw on Christmas...
but that night he camped beneath my block, and on my way home I had no choice but to talk to him in person.

He apologised, and promised to make changes.
Still lovestruck, and willing to work things out, but wary, wary now of how blind I could be around him, I said I would consider away from him.

The moment I left,I knew this was not the same guy who called me names in fights, who called me child and a bitch and insisted that he was right for saying that, then trying to justify that it was what I said that was bitchy, not me itself.... bla bla.

The change was too drastic; people don't change overnight, and that was mere talk. And talk is cheap.

So, I rejected him.
Summary is he came and stayed beneath my block every night for the next 4 days, refusing to cab home even with the money I gave him- crying and pleading for a second chance. Day 3 I went down to meet him for his closure, returning him his books and shirts and money, stuffing him 20 bucks and telling him to go back home because I was still very in love and wanted to give a second chance... just not right now.

Did I mention that I told him to come back to me again, a few months or years in the future, when he has become a balanced and better person, because feelings dont change that easily, much as people don't?


However, the sight of him crying completely broke me, and after rejecting him countless times, and having him sob really hard and keep pulling me back physically into his arms, I agreed to be with him.


The next morning I woke up panicking- I knew I had made the wrong choice, out of love, softness of heart, or pure weakness.

Because I had been sleeping at 5/6am daily for the past 2 weeks, after falling sick from pushing myself too hard for the surprises.

So I apologised for having softness of heart, then rejected him again.

He refused, choosing to come beneath my block and sending me crying voice messages and pleads and calling me over and over. Day 4 I refused to go down, but I picked up his call- and again couldn't hang up when he kept pleading.

Eventually after an hour, I was completely broken, so I hung up. And didn't pick up his calls afterward. I did, however, stay up with him and listen to every voice message because I still couldn't bear the thought of him shivering and crying beneath my block, alone.

The next day he planned to come down again, with flowers.

And all my heartbreak turned to rage, because when we were together I stayed over often at his place- never really slept well because of insomnia in a foreign place, his loud snoring, and the lack of comfort in general- had to travel 2 hrs to and 2hrs fro when I was rushing from school to his place, and back- just so I could balance everything.
The truth was I wasn't meeting friends at all (though I finally met good people in university, like I've always wanted) and I was always working, or at school, or with him.
I went for an entire month without heading home once.

And during this period, I would ask to watch a movie together, and he would say that he wanted to watch separate movies, because he;s "picky". I compromised and watched his movies with him because I wanted so much to be with him, but that feeling of love was never reciprocated.

Sure he did good things like calm me down during anxiety attacks, but when I was healthy and well- I didn't feel loved. When he was in a bad mood, I felt like I was dating someone irritable and toxic. And I was constantly in fear of his reactions to words I didn't even know were wrong.
I could bring up how unhappy I felt, but somehow in the fights that ensued he would confuse me with those words, words, words-
and I would end up apologizing for having wrong inferences that I didn't know were wrong.

 And when I was angry I told him that flowers aren't the solution because when we were together- he didn't treasure me. And I was profoundly lonely and unhappy.

I didn't tell people what was going on until it was too late and I was breaking down in my room, panicking and crying in front of my brother.
I held it all in, kept giving chances, till it was too late.

I told him to stop, because otherwise I would block him.
He didn't, so I blocked him on Whatsapp- then, on New Year's Eve he sms-ed me and asked to meet again.
Since then I have blocked him on every platform available,
so he doesn't know from my instastories, the things that I've been up to.


But I can see his...
and he lugs around the little Stitch plushie I got him, taking pictures with it wherever he goes.

I still miss him.
Irreverently so, stupidly so.

But I know that he is a douche and an idiot from the things he used to say-
the cringey stuffs he used to whisper into my ear, like "I wanna impregnate you", and uh... so on.

He will probably go around telling people that he loved me, but didn't know how to express it, and that he tried his best at putting me above himself.

But no, if he really did-
he wouldn't have tried to win the arguments for the sake of it, because the fights were always just, for him. Even him stalking me beneath my block and keeping me awake till 6am. It was all to make him feel better, at the expense of my feelings.

He never did have the maturity or control over his own emotions and decisions, and he victimises himself.

I fell in love, fell too deep...


And I couldn't see.

Not until it broke me inside out, anyway.

I still have the pens I got him, which he forgot to bring with him. I still have the online surprise I ordered for him and spent 90 bucks on, which hasn't arrived yet and is most likely a scam.
I still have the 2 bags of candy I got on my family trip, because all I could think about was him.

Yes, I fell in love.
At age 19 I fell deeply, carelessly,
And again I kept up my trend of bad first experiences and picked me a guy with too much baggage and too little strength and maturity...

I fell in love,
And I loved him more than I loved myself.

Walking away from the toxic relationship was a wise decision,
but I can't help but miss someone I shouldn't miss.

And amidst all that, I am both enraged and heartbroken,
and I wish for him to suffer the same heartache I felt
but I also

wish for him to be happy.


First love...

I just wish I'd picked the right person.

I wish I hadn't gone for someone who goaded me with his words, who didn't followup with action, who victimised himself both during and after the relationship, and gave me great grief.

I wish I'd stayed single, focused on my dreams...

I wish I wasnt so full of optimism and love that I kept slogging away at rotten wood, trying to build it into a wholesome house.

I wish I didn't give him so much room and power to break me.

I wish I hadn't fallen in love and become the fool for his happiness;

But midst all this- I don't regret it.
Because from the way he is, I was the only person to get that close- to see all that about him- and I would never have found out had I stayed a friend.

At least I gave it everything I could.
And yes I'm broken, but I'm no longer hollow.

I have friends now. Hopes, dreams.
I have dance, hosting, acting, english tuition, modelling, my hobbies of painting, my hopes at becoming a psychologist, my actions at trying to pick up Japanese and possibly, baking.

I have my family, I have- Me.

I'll find a way out,
because when I was all alone, I built a new life from scratch-

And I can,
Now. Again,
Build another life from scratch, without him,

The way I always envisioned it to be,
The way I was well on my path to being before I met him.

I'll be staying away from love before I find myself enough to be able to say 'No' to someone and not feel guilty, treasure myself enough to get angry when someone yells at me to shut up, and balanced enough to not throw away all my time that was meant for my dreams and hopes at having people in my life- on one solitary person who only kept wanting more.

I will grow, and become a better person.

Yes my first love was anything *but* the light-hearted, shallow puppy love that everyone told me about,
But hey.
I am scarred and I am sad,
But I won't be bitter.

Not again,
Not when I once threw my life into the shithole because of that.

Perhaps trust will still be hard for people to earn when it comes to me, but..

Oh well.

We all climb to higher heights one day.

And since I've only been meeting shitty people, mostly..

It can only go uphill from here.

And lastly..

I am so so so glad we didn't have sex.
I am so glad to have listened to my gut when I didnt feel emotionally secure enough to invest in a guy to the point to throwing in the last of my emotional strength.

I don't think I would have emerged broken but still somewhat whole,
had I done that.

Call it Asian, or traditional if you will-

To me its more about feeling emotionally safe enough that you know you can love without hesitation.