100 Dumb Ways to Die

I've always appreciated the portrayal of friendship in The Hangover movie series, and I often fantasized about being able to do the outrageous things the guys did. But, as societal norms dictate, girls and women are typically not expected to visit strip clubs, drink too much, or openly discuss their sexual encounters. This means I often feel confined to nail salons, spa treatments, and sipping overpriced, girly cocktails in my designer heels.

While I don’t mind that lifestyle, I can’t help but envy the freedom that men seem to have to engage in reckless fun—and get away with it. Even when they be wearing bermudas and flip flops and look like Stu. 

So, it’s no surprise that in 2018, I found myself drink driving in Malaysia without a proper license. When the police pulled me over and asked for my ID, I knew I had to think fast.

“How much?” I asked, half-joking.

He laughed and said, “Whoa, wait. Let me talk to my colleague.”

He returned with a straight face. “200.”

“Ringgit? OK.”

And just like that, we were off. This was supposed to be a post about "100 Dumb Ways to Die," but clearly, we survived my reckless driving and blatant bribery. If the officer had been a stickler for the law, I might have ended up in some grim Malaysian prison where, as a friend once told me, everyone shares the same water pitcher. I could have easily succumbed to my fear of bacteria and viruses and died by anxiety attacks in there.

Just the other day, I was out with Pw, and we briefly discussed "100 Dumb Ways to Die."

“Hey, I saw a TikTok that said if you fall out of a plane, aim for the forest or swamps instead of water, since water can be like hitting concrete from that height,” I said.

“Huh, so trees would cushion the fall?” she asked.

“Supposedly. But imagine getting impaled by a thick branch high up in a tree. You’d be stuck, bleeding out slowly, in excruciating pain, and no one would hear your cries for help. HAHAHAHAHA.”

“But don’t worry bruv, if that happens to you, I’ll call the rescue team. I’ll tell them exactly where you are. Just look for the trees near the crash site!”

Just like in The Hangover, with my current placement, I believe I have the ability now to do outrageous things and get away with them. The best part? I have a friend who’s just as cock, ready to join me in all my shenanigans. I'm just not too sure how her husband would feel if he had to come bail us out of jail one day. 

The Day Chrissy Got Too Much In Her Head

Reading back through my past entries, I realized I’m quite a funny person—and not a bad writer, either. I found myself laughing out loud at some parts, feeling a thrill reading the steamy encounters with K, and even tearing up at the little goodbye love letter to Carl. 

Carl. Carl. Carl.

In 2025, it would have been ten years since we parted, yet here I am, still saying his name after all this time. A decade—10 years, 3,650 days—and his name has never left my heart or my lips. To be honest, I was certain no one could ever replace him when he decided to leave. I didn't hold anyone to his standards because what he did for me and how he completed my life back then was unparalleled. No one really wants to know, because those standards were hard to live up to. 

My brother came over earlier to check on me and we ended up watching his church’s sermons together. I am pretty pathetic. I’m 39, and I’ve been using alcohol to numb the pain from this current ordeal I’m facing. I should be popping champagne and celebrating this new milestone at work, but instead, I’m not. I even finished a bottle of Shiraz last night. The evening before that was whiskey and Chianti, and the night before that was three-quarters of a bottle of Chianti. Before that, just more whiskey. This is bad. This is really bad. My liver hates me.

I refuse to write this person's name here (the person who's put me in this current painful situation) because doing so would mean he’s a prominent part of my life. I hate that you can easily Google him and find his search results all over the place. I hate that there are videos of him on YouTube. I’m just not going to engage with that because one thing’s for sure: if I read this entry later, I’d be asking myself, “Who is this person I’m talking about?” And so, I am not allowing myself to remember this person. But it doesn't mean my mind and heart are not screaming his name right now. It will pass. I will heal. I will move on. I must forget that he exists. 

My sex drive is a little all over the place now. I currently own two very expensive sex toys--one which I had ordered a few days ago and requested for same-day delivery. 

"You know it's like when you get so horny and they know that you can't wait to have an orgasm and so they provided the same-day delivery option," I said to PW. 

"Dude, the uncle who delivered it, did he throw you any dirty looks?" she asked. 

"No it was wrapped but he probably went to the sex shop and picked it up so he probably knows what's inside." 

"Wow, imagine he had known that you needed the toy urgently and asked if he could help, 'Xiao mei, uncle dao kar chiu ai mai?'" (Hokkien; translates to "little girl, uncle help you want or not?") 

We then burst into hysterical laughter. I then proceeded to show her the new toy which is a dildo that has a thrusting function. Apart from the Internet and ChatGPT, thrusting dildos might just be the best invention to have come from the tech boom. 

I had opened my bedside table and took the toys out and showed her. 

"Bruv, why do you have Ruyi oil and Yoko Yoko in here as well?" she exclaimed while examining the two bottles of lubes that were beside.  

"You know there was once I was pretty wasted, I wanted to take the Ruyi oil to rub my nose with, then I accidentally took the lube and rubbed it on my nostrils. Fuck, imagine if I had wanted to use the lube instead with my toy, and I had by mistake taken the Yoko Yoko instead and rub it on my pussy!" 

We both laughed so hard that I had forgotten this pain I was nursing inside me for a good one minute.

I still have Bo as my FwB but I think he's a bit pissed off with me now cause the last time when he asked to fuck, I ignored his text. So I texted him yesterday, "Hey, wotcha doing later? Wanna hook up?" 

"I'm not in Singapore, in Dubai." 

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. 

Where's a good, reliable fuck when you need one? I’ve never been a fan of having different partners—STDs are a real concern—but I might have come to realize we need more than one FwB! Unfortunately, my expectations for these arrangements mean I can’t just swipe right on Tinder and jump into bed with someone.

So, I thought of K (read my 2017 entries, and you’ll know who he is). He was, without a doubt, the best fuck I ever had, and I hated myself for deleting his number. I don’t even know if he still works for Apple or if he’s still in Singapore. I can still picture his half-naked body in those jogging tights, standing at his bedroom window with a cup of coffee—and that marvelous ass. If he’s nine years younger than me, he must be 30 now. Oh my god, has he gotten married and is he giving some woman the best fucks of her life? I find myself feeling a little jealous; why do all the good things never happen to me?

I used to be someone who was never without a relationship for long but since 2015, I have been very single. Mf was long-distance so it didn't feel like I had a partner as well. Though we've been together for a year, we only saw each other less than 15 times. 

“What do you really want? Don’t you think you’d want someone like Carl—someone who can see you every weekend, celebrate festivities with you, and take vacations overseas together like a proper boyfriend?” my brother asked earlier.

"I don't know," I responded. 

Maybe I don’t even know what I want when it comes to love and relationships. Perhaps I don’t want to be married at all. I kind of think marriages are overrated and a bit too fairytale-like for me. But the idea of having someone to laugh, cry and fuck with remains endearing.

Maybe, just maybe… I’m meant to be a player? The Butterfly was what I read obsessively while I was growing up, and I’m still fascinated by those encounters and stories today. When did I tire of going out on dates and meeting new people? I used to be properly wined and dined all the time. Michelin restaurants, fine dining, wealthy men, celebrities... What the fuck exactly happened to me since COVID-19?

Chrissy's Woes and Rants as a 33yo

They say when you feel like you've hit rock bottom, the only way you can move is 'up'.

When I was younger, I remember I had better resilience dealing with setbacks. When I felt sad, betrayed or unwanted, I'd go into a long slumber. And the next day I'd wake with so much hope and positivity, ready to take on the world again even when I had nothing to my name and was absolutely broke. It turns out, while many out there seem to think that you get stronger as you grow older, it's not the case for me. The damn turn of wheels, I'm the opposite of what everyone is--I get weaker inside with each day I inch toward death. What a pathetic way to morph, if you ask me.

Yes, I'm the one who carved a name for myself even when I am not the most highly educated person around. Yes, I give my all in whatever I do because I'm achievement-hungry. I am motivated and eager to be recognised by those who I think are high up there. The successful people around me think I'm strong, fiercely independent and there's nothing in this world that can take me down.

When old friends ask how I'm doing these days, I'd go about with the answer "Probably successful in career, friends and family but always a big failure in relationships". And they'd respond with "Don't be greedy. You can't have it all in life." Cut the patronising and the sake of saying something when you have nothing better to say. The fact we all know is: you can. There are so many around us who have managed to excel in all these aspects which are fundamental (I say fundamental) to one's over all wellbeing. Puhlease...

They say I'm not whole and this is why I keep scoring a big fat zero in my romance department. Again, if we take a long hard look at everyone around us, the fact remains, there are a lot more people out there who aren't whole who are together with somebody. So where's the argument in this? Let's take a look at my Life Score Card here...

So I know what you're all thinking here. And I can flatly tell you here are what my friends always say to me:

"You fall too fast, too hard."

"You don't hold back when you fall."

"You trust people too easily."

"You need to have better taste in men." 

"You get too intense. People don't like it."

I'm a nice person. I don't outrightly talk back to my friends so whenever I hear someone saying anything along the lines of these here, here's what I'll be saying (screaming) in my head... 

"You fall too fast, too hard." (I'M A DIE HARD ROMANTIC!)

"You don't hold back when you fall." (I'M A DIE HARD ROMANTIC!!!)

"You trust people too easily." (YOU SAID I DON'T TRUST PEOPLE WHICH RESULTED IN THE INSECURITIES I HAVE IN ME. NOW YOU SAID I TRUST PEOPLE TOO EASILY?)

"You need to have better taste in men." (I'VE BEEN SINGLE FOR CLOSE TO 4 YEARS! AND WHY IS THIS SO?)

"You get too intense. People don't like it." (I AM PUMPING WITH BLOOD, ALIVE AND AM PASSIONATE IN THE THINGS I FEEL FOR. I'M A LEO, LEAVE ME ALONE.)

Be thankful for what you got.

August motherfucking 23rd 2017.

The stretch of time that has intervened between then and now, has once again brought forth the light of things. Fighting to swallow the fact that I'm once again on another crossroad, I resisted pouring myself a glass of Malbec to wash it down. I really need to cut back on the drinking.

Life has a way to fuck all of us up. Biding farewell to Kn was hard. Having to think of biding farewell to Cs next week is even harder. I admit, I'll feel alone. Probably feel like the only saint surrounded by a sea of monsters. And the thought of having to dance daily with so many devils just fucking depresses me.

It's ok. Like attracts like. Let's just be positive and have faith that things will take a pivotal turn around toward the light.

I don't remember Carl anymore. Thinking of him now feels different. And looking at his photos certainly does not evoke any emotions. Time has its way to heal every wound. Lesson learnt: when you fucking feel like you're going to die, chant 7577878 times to yourself TIME WILL HEAL. The only downside is, and I am not going to sugarcoat my words here, that you'll find time between now and the future a pain in the ass to live through. You'll bawl, you'll go insane and you'll even do things you won't typically do. And this will just mean, when the future has finally come, you'll be someone different.

"What doesn't kill you won't make you stronger. It just makes you funnier."

Falling in love when you're older is tough. Think about the times where you had easily felt for someone -- exchange looks, smile, BAM. That was easy. When you're older, you exchange death stares, scowl, BAM, "next". I find people a total turn off these days. I don't get excited about people, and neither do I get excited looking at designer shoes and bags anymore. The only excitement I have these days is to see the money rolling in, and knowing I will retire with a million dollars on hand in another 30 years' time. I would however, be thankful, if I don't have to wait thirty years for that to happen. I am officially a rat in the race now. /18 year-old me laughing at 32 year-old me now

People typically whine about the things they don't have. Why can't you just suck it up and work towards that? If you don't like how you look, change it. If you don't like what you do, change it. Happiness is not something that just happen to you. You got to find it. So what makes you happy? Jot them all down and envision that end goal. Then work out a gap analysis that will help you move towards that -- step by step.

I really like how my 2017 is unfolding thus far, though I might want to change up 90% of things. I swear having met Kn and Cs is one of the few good things that have happened to me. And I plan to keep them very close for a long period of time. I am happy too, having met Mikki, cause he made me feel alive for a month. Waking up smiling has been something I hadn't been able to do for two years and a half. And I am thankful for that. He just doesn't know how significant this is to me. But fuck him nonetheless.

So, I'm back to being the girl who goes to work every Monday to Friday, goes for her Muay Thai practice every Tuesday, Thursday and Saturday, then swim on Sundays.

I guess there's a difference between then and now -- me then and me now. Definitely more independent, stronger, and very possibly kicking more ass in the corporate world.

I ought to feel happy, don't I?

All Hail Chrissy!

Ah, another Monday has ended. Another 19 of June gone just like that -- in a bat of an eye. As much as I had wanted to hold on to time, half of 2017 gone. Just like that.

Time -- since the beginning of my time -- has always been my nemesis. The one which I've been battling with and the only one who I can never defeat (and the weighing scale). We're all victims of Time. Not ageing, not cancer, and not death. These are merely what Time brings forth. Our one true enemy is Time.

Time was the culprit for breaking up your ex lover and you. He was the mastermind behind you saying goodbye to all your friends in school. He also was the cause of you failing your exams. Lastly, he took Brownie and Sparky away, took whoever I cared for away and brought them to a place where I can never be reunited with them again. 

Time, our one true enemy. He steals memories away from you no matter how painstakingly you try to hold on to, past the point of no return. With time, everything eventually fades into nothingness. With time, we will soon too slip into the unknown.

With my 9 month old niece now in this world, I feel myself slipping into the abyssal darkness of the unknown quicker than before. Her innocence reminds me of the times where days were easier -- no love, no sentiments. Just mom and dad, food and exams. Life's simple, we got complicated. 

Half a year gone just like that and I find myself struggling with finding another job again. In less than eight months, I'm once again on the road of doubts and measuring my self worth with the number of phone-calls I get back from the sending of the CVs. I don't want to leave Colin and I don't want him to leave us. Why did Time once again take something so precious away from me? I finally found a boss, a place where I see myself growing professionally with for a good few years. This, is hard to come by because if you look through my CV, you will waste no time to emblazon a CHRONIC JOB-HOPPER label over it.

Fuck. 

I hate having to explain myself to all the recruiters on why I left this job, that job. If I'm unhappy at work, I leave. It's that simple. Why would anyone drag her feet into a cesspit every day? God have mercy on that poor soul who does. Love yourself a little. If you're not happy for 260 days in a year minus the weekends where you don't have to work, you will be in a mental institute eventually. Not to visit but as a patient. Unless you enjoy taking Xanax like Skittles, no one should ever have to work in a place where they are miserable. Period. It's just that fucking simple, why can't hiring managers and recruiters get it? I'm a millennial, duh.

I'm turning 32 in July and I'm very much single. I still enjoy listening to the Phantom of the Opera soundtrack. I'm doing very well for a high school dropout and I have recently gained 4kg. I guess this is how 2017 unfolds and I am sure it will continue to be this mediocre. 

If you're asking about my sex life, let's just say burning the bridge between K and I has got to be one of the biggest mistakes I've committed in life. He was such a wonderful fuck and how I regret, how I regret now. 

The Ghost

It's been probably a long time since I last saw and spoke to Carl. Yeah, if you've been a friend (don't even need you to be a close one), you WILL definitely know who he is. 

He's after all, my 'the one who got away'. 

Life's mysterious and the world's small. Putting Law of Attraction a case in point, it seems I am still in a world that has him in it. Having moved on from what was the perfect relationship in my opinion, I have learnt to live on my own independently with much effort made in being alone. It was never my forte but I learnt never to settle for less because I know what I truly deserve. 

Coincidentally, my boss was a secondary school mate of his and I learnt this today. What are the odds? There are a ton too many secondary schools in Singapore and both of them just have to be born in the same year, went to the same school, and share a close friend -- Terry Lee. 

I can't comprehend the reasoning behind this arrangement. I cannot keep up with the number of people around me who know him. I got envious of my boss this afternoon upon learning they spent 4 years together in high school though they weren't chummy. I didn't even get four years of his time and very obviously, if my boss was to chance upon him on the streets again, I will definitely be one of the many things they would share. 

I don't even want him to know that I'm doing well. He does not deserve to know. 

I don't want him back, and neither do I want to be someone who he will think of from time to time while looking at his current girlfriend. I don't want him to be reminded of me at all. For he doesn't deserve any bit concerning me -- not even memories. 

So please, let you be the one thing I talk about from time to time, think about sometimes when I can't sleep at night, picture on the punching bag at my Muay Thai training and the one thing I desire which I can never have. Just so I can fully grasp the concept of letting go, and that there are many times in life where things are out of our control and out of reach.

At night before bed

late at night before bed

my soul unrest, I remain wide awake.

fade into an abyss, often my thoughts did,

--my fears, my tears, my solitude years

I miss the presence of love

its warmth and burning hope it unearths 

I miss having someone to hold

to feel complete, hopeful and whole

knowing I'll never settle; 

what I expect is what I deserve.

I can't do grays, I can't do less,

and never second to best

all while knowing too, 

that my wishes are simple
yet akin to a pair of outstretched hands into the horizon of blue

This is Me. This is 31.

I have a barrage of thoughts that I could go on visiting in my head again and again but I'm unable to actually write a proper article on them so I'm just going to have to break them up. Which would probably make it easier to read anyway.

2016
Great year indeed. Made a few good friends. Keep having breakthroughs in career (or at least I think), bad dates and reconnections of a couple of people who I had thought were lost. Got crazy, really angry, egged a car (the shame). Called a few people losers, one 'an arrogant prick' and decided to drop people like they are totally invaluable to me. Starting to really love myself a whole damn lot and I think that's what made me the way I am today -- no bullshit.

Sex
Sahara. Oh, but checked out a line item on the bucket list and did it with a local celebrity. A hot one mind you, and no, it's not Gurmit Singh or Mark Lee.

Love
As I've mentioned above, I went out on a few bad dates. And didn't really enjoy myself even when the dates weren't bad. I think 'unavailable' is now a tattoo on my forehead. Funny how it traveled from the back of my mind to be out exposed. Oh wait, but...

I met Benjamin a few nights ago. I think I've grown a helluva lot in the last three years. I've grown to be really different from the person who he fell for -- he doesn't has to say it because I noticed it. Still, there's a little part of me which aches for him (though I don't admit it and though I think he's not exactly the person who I thought I had been madly in love with all these years). Like I keep wondering how it's like to kiss him again. Is it the hormones?

Books
Reading 'Think Rich & Grow Rich' by Napoleon Hill now. Contextually speaking, it's as good as reading 'The Secret' again but it's more long-winded and convincing in a sense, and it's amazing how the great richest people of the world practise the belief unknowingly -- the law of attraction. You know what they say, that like attracts like and you're the person you perceive to be. I'm a sucker for LOA. Everyone knows this. It's probably the reason why I'm this strong these days.

Downed a few books earlier in the year but haven't been able to get started on the fiction that are currently sitting on the shelf. Because in my nature of work where we get to see probably thousands of words every day, you just fucking don't want to see any more of them when you have the time to yourself.

But when I do have time to myself, I lie in bed and surf the web. Dafuq?

Money
Pittance.

Alcohol
When you don't remember a thing, it doesn't count.

Merry Christmas Mr Lawrence

I love this piano piece by Ryuichi Sakamoto. It very well depicts the chaos amidst calm, much like how I'm always inside. Counting down to the big 31, I am beginning to feel I've lost the drive to seek better days for myself. I'm busy devouring whatever there's out there everyday in the digital marketing world. That seems to be the only thing I'm programmed to seek these days.

I no longer feel hyped about anything anymore. I don't remember waking up feeling I'm on top of the world. It seems, as I slowly wither, I lose myself too, bit by bit.

I do admit though, a big part of me is still living in the past. Making believe that I still go to Keppel Club, Sunrise Terrace and Snoop was still around. And when reality sets in, I could only hold all the pain in. I look indifferent on the outside, but little do people know that I'm in pain.

Why does everyone think I'm fine?

I'm not. I'm sad, lonely and most of the time I just feel like crying. But I keep telling myself not to. Because I'm well aware that being miserable isn't going to change anything. Happiness is a state of mind and not something to seek. Crying is only an amplified expression of pain and that the more you cry, the more weight it'd be on you.

She ain't you.

I don't exactly feel anything right now and neither am I occupied by any thoughts but I just really feel like writing. Maybe this will be an entry of pure randomness and it might not make sense to you, but I don't really care if it even make any sense to me at all.

I briefly went through my entries from 09 and I actually discovered something rather disturbing about myself. My writing has deteriorated. Long gone was the florid display of wordplay and that pompous tone. My vocabulary is stuck at where it used to be, if not took a downhill turn. Haven't I been reading? I have been. That's the thing.

Anyhow, I'm so sick of having to deal with men and their desire to try to get to know me. Not because I'm totally frozen inside but I think my bars are rather raised now. And it really takes a lot for me to notice you. I think I AM going to die a spinster. Doesn't really matter. Anyhow, if it's any comfort to myself (and you), I think I have a crush on somebody. Ridiculous it is, unlikely it seemed, but it happened. I am not too sure if I should tell him this? Sorry to disappoint you, it's not a her. But whatever. I just am not too sure if I should do anything at all. Cause I'm not really interested in another failure. Yes, this time around, I'm really scarred. Carl, you happy now? You managed to hurt me to this extent, push me to this far end where I lost all hopes in finding my Mr. Right. And I am not even remotely positive or confident that there is after all a Mr. Right out there for me.

Whenever I hear people say, 'your time will come. You will meet somebody right and meant for you,' I shutter. I tremble at the thought of that somebody being not good enough for me (anyone who knows me well knows that I get bored easily if you're not mentally stimulating enough) and I somewhat know that I could possibly be alone for the rest of my life? I mean, there are people who never got married, who's single and has three cats.

Carl.

Hey,

That was how we first greeted each other. You sent me a long message on OkCupid telling me how you love grooving to Disney tunes in response to what I've written on my profile. And I sent you a message only one month after, telling you to holler at me at my mobile number. Which you did, of course you did.

When we first met, I thought we hit it off well. While I didn't exactly find you attractive on our first date, your charm grew on me like a bud in spring. It was only natural it blossomed. And it sure did. You brought me to my first IMAX movie knowing I've never been to one. You were so thoughtful and kind. You still are.

As time passed, we started seeing each other very regularly and we quietly slipped into dating each other exclusively. We slipped into a relationship in a very subtle, gentle manner which seemed only natural and right. We were like long lost friends who share identical lifestyle, interests and core values. I can't remember when it was exactly but I do know this, that it didn't take long for me to fall in love with you. You're the kindest, most patient and understanding person I've ever known. You always listen to me attentively and you provided me with a support I never had. I felt safe, understood and loved.

On one early morning before dawn breaks, I told you that I love you before we bid each other goodbye. While I stood remained in your embrace, you didn't say you love me back. That's when I felt you struggling inside, trying to find a way to ease yourself out of the situation. You didn't want to lie, yet you couldn't bear to hurt me to tell me the truth. I understood this and I let go of you, bidding you goodbye as I headed home. "Maybe not now but perhaps soon" was all I could tell myself the next day and the following weeks after.

The day came when I asked if you love me. By then, I have fallen for you. I knew if you say 'no', you would have crushed me. You said 'no' but it didn't just crush just me, the both of us were. You cried because you know you really like me and you care a great deal about me. And you know you couldn't let me go because of this. So we established the understanding that we would try. We would try to build this even when we know that it was a one-sided love of mine. I took the risk, I wanted to try working things out with you because you were so dear to me. I didn't want to let you go.

Time passed us by and we built something. We shared memorable times together and took trips overseas. We hopped around town, enjoying each other's company and bringing nothing but joy to each other's life. You treated me well and with utmost respect. I tried my very best to be the best version of myself for you. We were at ease in each other's company as we pushed each other towards our dreams. I wanted us to have a future and I know if you could, you would have wanted that for us too. But the day finally arrived where you realized you couldn't do it anymore. And in order to be fair, you decided to set us free.

We've broken up for more than a year now. And we haven't heard from each other for months. Never had we been away from each other for this long. And I do know, that this void will continue to stretch into the horizon, with no arrangements of an expiry date. We will continue living this way, creating a bigger void that will only stretch further into an abyss. We might one day forget each other. We just might.

While I still remember you vividly at present, I want you to know how thankful I am to have found you; to have spent a considerable amount of time with you. Those days we had were easily the bestof my life. Even at then, I was thanking the universe for having brought you into my life. I still remain grateful today to have met you even though we have gone our separate ways.

I still think about you every day. I still miss you being around. I still miss the in-jokes we have which no one but us will ever get. I miss the chemistry of us finishing each other's sentences. And I miss so dearly, the times we goofed around at all the places we went to. Our carpool karaoke was my favourite and I know there won't be another who I'll do it with.

You mean a lot to me and you still do even after all this time. That is why I am almost certain that I will continue loving you in this quiet fashion, from afar, and in a corner on this great great world where you won't see me. I guess this is the best I can do for you now.

You still visit me in my dreams at night -- most of the times waking me up in tears. But I guess that's how I get to see you now, that's the only way I can ever be close to you again. And I think I have to live with that. I think I can live with that.

You mean so much to me. And I know you wanted so badly to be able to love me and to give me a
future. But you couldn't. Love didn't begin for you and it didn't want to be found despite you having tried for more than a year. It's not your fault. It was never your fault. You did try your best for me -- no one else but me.

I once told you that whoever has your love is one lucky girl. I remember this. And I still stand by it firmly today. Whoever she is, she has the one thing we lacked in us which we tried so painstakingly to find -- that one thing that was missing which was the only thing we ever needed in order for us to keep going.

We tried but we failed. While it's hard to say goodbye to yesterday, we had managed to. And we've come this far without each other. We've grown, aged a little and we're now back to the old days where we're strangers. I hope you'll succeed one day in finding the one for you. I know you will. And I'm happy knowing you will. I'll be happy when you do.

I love you, so very dearly and in ways you will never know. I still say this today and I'm sure I will say the same until I grow old. 98 and 3/4 percent.

You are the best, remember that.

Love, evermore,
Bunneh

The Momentum of Conundrum

I can sum up my life in three words -- no more.

"Work, workout and eat clean."

I've been living the life of an almost-recluse for as long as I remember. This is the story.

Last Christmas eve, I met Calvin. Someone who was really into me and purused me relentlessly. Then on one fine night, he kissed me and I didn't push him away. That was how he started saying we're in a relationship. Seriously.

That week, because my time was pretty much occupied by him, I strayed from Carl for a good while. We didn't talk for days, we didn't even seen each other for a while. For clarification's sake, I was trying to move on and heeding what they say about getting a rebound to do so. It worked! On the surface that is, God knows how much I was beating for Carl deep down in my heart during those times with Calvin.

Calvin and I didn't work out. Turns out he was an arrogant prick who couldn't care more about people around him besides himself. I should have noticed the signs. Who the fuck blew up his own picture in A3 size, framed and hanged it up on the wall? Who the fuck put together a collage of photos of himself on another wall? I was a little taken aback when I first went over to his place but I thought to myself that it's pretty common to love yourself this much especially after you've had all the achievements under your belt. But no. It's fucking not fucking common. Narcissism was what echoes day in and out at his place, bounces off the four walls and onto the windows then ricochet off the door. He took narcissism to a whole new level. And to think I thought I was pretty narcissistic. He put people who love taking selfies to shame.

When I ruminated over this mistake of mine, I understand why the Universe has planned for Calvin's existence in my life. He was here to help Carl and I move on. What was I thinking? Carl and I broke up a year ago and for the entire year, I had the both of us stuck at the same spot. It wasn't working out. He just wants out and I kept him around in hope that he'd change his mind. Which he never did. I imprisoned the both of us for a year. On a selfish note, I had successfully plonked a huge boulder on my life path.

You know, I miss Carl a damn lot but at the same time, I am fucking mad at him for having me replaced. The story goes... he met someone new and he's interested to know her better. They even went out on a date! But who am I to interfere? We're no longer in a relationship and I slept with Calvin and I dated Calvin for a month! So it's only fair right?

In my previous entry, I had mentioned that I haven't been single for 13 years. Which is very true. I was never single for too long and this time around, I think I'm ready to discover the true meaning of being alone. I'm just going to focus on my career, my weight loss plan and my ageing face. I will casually date men without any expectations that I'll find my happily-ever-after. I'll read a lot of books, compose poetry and learn coding. I'll spend less time on social media, the internet and cut back on drinks. I should quit smoking too.

Yup, that has been a real bad habit that I've been trying to kick for almost two decades. I think I could have lived till 80. But I think I'm going to be dead by 75.

We don't live forever do we? Thirty years later, where will we be?

The Honest Truth About Love

Today is the 15th of February of the year 2016. Exactly two years ago, Carl and I were at Sentosa. We celebrated our first Valentine's Day together at Movenpick Heritage Hotel. He had made the trip down to Lauren Bernard to get me a box of expensive chocolates. Exactly one year ago, this time I was having dinner with him at Coastes. He had arranged for this surprise dinner one week after we returned from Bali. He did it because he knows I love the sea. He knows I love Bali. Twelve days later after the Valentine Dinner by the sea, he left me.

If time is the only instrument to measure everything, if there's an unknown dimension it brings, then we're still living out our known history despite this current point of consciousness. Just that we no longer feel what we used to feel. And we no longer see what we used to see.

I read that love is a verb and it involves conscious effort from two parties so that it could live. I read that what will bring two strangers together is a perfect marriage of mutual physical, emotional and mental attraction. Love will then develop between the two as time proves. Time will measure the depth of feelings. It will take into consideration the number of breaths you two share, the number of times you fall asleep in each other's arms and all the laughter and tears. Love will find its way if the three aspects of attraction come together. 

The writer was wrong. 

When time travel in a linear fashion, love doesn't. It implodes within one then engulfs two. For Carl and I, it never imploded within him at all even when the three aspects of attraction were perfectly in place. After this whole time of trying and the number of breaths and secrets we share, I was greeted by a strange yet familiar sense of loneliness. I am now, once again, without him. I'm back to where I began initially before I met him. If we take Benjamin into count, I had Benjamin before I met Carl. And I had to leave Benjamin because 'we' were killing us both. 

And before Benjamin there was Mairah. And before Mairah there was Simon. And before Simon, there was Andy. And before Andy, there was Desmond. Going way back, I realized an honest piece of truth about myself. That is, I haven't been alone since the age of 18. 13 years in the making and I found myself sniggering at my dependency for a presence in my life. Whether having someone in my life makes me feel wanted and validate my need to feel it, or whether having someone in my life helps bring excitement into what I regard as conundrum, it all doesn't matter. It just means I need someone in my life to feel alive. Which is pretty shitty if you ask me. 

You need to love yourself in order to love someone else. If this is true, then maybe Carl doesn't love himself. 

I cannot remember when was the last time my heart aches this way. Probably when Bennett and I parted ways. If Bennett was my first true love, then Carl is the second. I guess. 

"How about Carl & You 2016," asked A. 

"It will not happen. We're off. He doesn't love me, remember?" I responded with clearly audible shattering noise of my heart and soul. 

Carl was my best friend, my partner in crime and we share the same jokes. He clearly doesn't think much of this but I think a great deal of this. I know, that it's near impossible to find someone who shares the same sense of humour. I just know this. But he's more into the new chick he met and probably he could adapt to whatever sense of humour she has and make it theirs. He's adaptive, he's a Libra. 

With tears in my eyes as I write, I can literally hear the sound of silence engulfing me with no mercy. Like a blanket, it wraps me up in the coldest fashion I've ever known and chill me down to bones. For once in my heart, there is no joy, rapture or conviviality. The dancer in me broke her legs. The singer in me got throat cancer. And the funambulist fell off the tightrope finally. Therefore, it brought out the poet and writer in me. If you've been following me for years, you would have known this about me, that I happen to have the most tragically beautiful poems and an endless stream of words whenever I'm down at the bottom. 

Fate always likes to throw me to the bottom of the dried up well. And with compliments without fail, she will always throw in a notebook and a pencil. That's how she starves me for all she ever wanted was my words of sorrow. That's how she gets her satisfaction.

I wonder what of me I will find

if I just try to,

all in the absence of you.

Oh wait... Isn't it?

I give birth to many thoughts in the wee hours. And most of these thoughts are plain horrifyingly regretful ones. I kinda am feeling pretty awesome yet shitty about myself these days. You know, takin yet another downtime from work, twice in a year is a luxury not a lot of people wish to claim their own. No Monday blues, just Mom's stares. All good and cruising.

I really HATE the initial phase of dating, getting to know someone, wanting to plunge soul deep into the person yet having to keep constantly reminding myself to hit the brakes. But wait... Am I not a strong independent woman of the 21st century who obviously can hold her ground? So why should I be holding back like a little coy peasant girl and not make any bold move at all?

"No darling, that's not how it works", said all the single women who call themselves love gurus. The other night I wailed to a friend, "I am so tired of having to have a relationship. I am so tired of games, guessing what he's thinking and all. I OBVIOUSLY want to have an earth shattering relationship and tower shaking sex (not forgetting trippy morning kisses and kitchen sex yup) all at full throttle but that's not how the game is played. I have to wear the shrimp costume and beautifully position myself at the end of the fishing line, waiting for him to come take a bite --- and mind you, one bite at a time! Don't we all live in the digital age now? This is WHY I'm so tired! I am so tired of being scared that I'll scare him away, I am so tired of having to pull the brakes. And most of the time, that just makes me feel I'm better off having a toy boy. No relationship, no love, no inordinate fascination of marriage, and hallucinations of us exchanging wedding vows."

Oh, but an honest piece of truth here: I didn't pull the brakes this time when it comes to sex. Maybe it's because of the 10-month celibacy I had, having someone desires me this way was such a big turn on. And so I couldn't keep my panties on. What a shame. Built up sexual tension is so sexy and I think I just heard you say you forgive me.

So I slept with Calvin on our sixth date. Statistically speaking, in the eyes of everyone, six dates sounds about right. But hang on, we had our six dates all in a week -- how's that? He was so into me that he had to see me every day. And I guess that did the trick for me. I got more and more into him (boy knows what he's doing oh yeah) and wanted to see him too. So before we even did the act, I pranced up and down in his living room for a good five minutes while he's in the shower (his neighbours prolly thought I was working out), recalling every dating tips and articles I have ever read on the Internet and kept questioning if I should sleep with him or not. 

"Yo, you only knew him on the 7th Dec. You first met him on the 24th Dec. Today is the 1st Jan 2016. Isn't it a little too soon? But we already had six dates! And it's perfectly fine if I check if he's a girl in disguise or not! If he's not, it's perfectly fine for me to check his package too!" 

In the end, I succumbed to my raging hormones and blamed it on New Year's Day. On a consolation note, at least, it's special. It happened on New Year's Day. And we first met on Christmas Eve. THESE must mean SOMETHING right?

And I think I am in love. 

P/S I so don't want yet another failure. 

My Epiphany

Maybe it's the weather, maybe it's the time of the year. I had a sudden realization as I walked down busy streets all by myself with a haversack on my back and converse sneakers on my feet.

I realized I have been living my life wrong. Maybe not wrong but not in the way my heart tells me to.

All along I had thought I wanted fame, sense of importance and everything else that comes with having a rather reputable job. The corporate ladder is not for me, I don't wear heels. And I'm not for earning the riches and driving fast cars. I want to create and make something that will change the world. I want to save something. I want to help.

So last evening before bed, I made myself promise that I will never buy another leather bag or purse. I told myself I will cut down on my meat intake and I will try to be a vegetarian. I told myself that no animal have to die just so I could enjoy its meat. (Carl and my mom are going to be rather sad over this)

I saw yet another article on sport hunting of the largest elephant in Africa killed. I saw its lifeless body, its long white beautiful tusks. Then I saw a disgusting human being squatting next to it, posing for the camera. With a smile so wide that I just feel like giving him the Joker's scars.

I realized I have a vigilante in me. I can't stand watching the helpless being bullied. I can't stand not helping anyone.

So I promised myself that I will give unconditionally from today onwards. Do my best to protect those who can't protect themselves and help whenever I could. I will save the animals. I will.

I will even speak up for the rape victims in India. I will and I will.

I will be the voice for those who can't speak or tell a story. I will and I will.

I will save the world. Even if it means me being murdered. I will not live and die like this. I will live a true life, a meaningful one. I will not leave this world without contributing anything to it.

P/S Tony, if you're reading this, please lend me one of your suits?

Closure of Cs

I left Carl today. 

Left whatever we have built over the last two years. Left Keppel Club, Snoop, Sunrise Terrace and all the feeling of him being around, the memories and his smile. 

Love is a choice. Leaving is also a choice. 

I did my best. I really did this time. 

29th September 2015

On this fateful day, something rather big happened.

It is to me.

I had duly gone to the Superdry store at VivoCity to meet up with Alicia for a product sponsorship. Before that, I had gone to La Senza to check on the new arrivals and returned the goods I had previously loaned. Met up with Alicia at about 5:05pm and spoke with her a little on what our requirements are. Managed to catch up a little on our common friends and went on to talk about Yoga Movement.

Then the phone ranged, ding ding.

I had to look at it again. For a good 10 seconds I couldn't believe my eyes.

"[WhatsApp] B K. Siew Hi, xxxxxxxxxx"

I took the SuperdrySport collection I've picked out for Alicia and told her to go try them out. Spoke with her a little while my brain was racing up and down, to and back. And I said bye to her.

But I didn't leave the store. I had to breathe.

I hid in the storeroom and reread the message a good ten times. I was panting very heavily and for a moment I thought I was going to faint. If I were to faint there, I am sure my colleagues would have sent me to the hospital. And they will notify my boss in the office. Which will then be ridiculous so I tried hard not to pass out.

Thank god I didn't.

So it finally happened. The day I always somewhat knew would come.

He had dreamt about us the night about, about our quarrels and fights that were surely, unforgettable in his words. To me, I had let go of the unpleasant times and remembered the good ones for these two years.

Glad he remembers it's been more than two years since we last spoke. Not pleased to know that he has only been able to think about the bad times we've had for the past couple of years.

If fate has a nickname, let's dub it wicked OK? Let's agree on the existence of sheer coincidence as well because two nights before, I had dreamt about him vividly.

If I had subconsciously been practising LOA on him, and even in my dreams, I've manifested him back into my life again. Not trying to sound arrogant or cocky here, but I've always known that Thor Tan Tui and Mrs Thor will always find their way back to each other somehow. Maybe not in the romantic way, maybe not even on friendship basis. But maybe for a closure.

And this is our closure.

He had decided to let go of all the resentment and anger that he has been keeping for two years.

"Are you serious? For two years, he's only been able to think about the anger?" asked Tracy.

Later that day, I went home and had a good long stare at the diary he had previously gotten for me when he went to Germany for some military training exchange. I took it out from the box that usually sits at this corner on my bookshelf. Inside were his photos, our photos, air tickets, receipts, a couple of letters, a card and March 2013 tore off from the calendar. I am a sentimental freak.

I opened the diary and skimped through some of its pages. The last entry was dated 28th September 2015. The day after I had dreamt about him.

Through the years, there were a few entries written. Sporadically.

"Wow, I was so childish," I felt disgusted with myself.

For the next three days, I contemplated whether to return everything to him which I had meant to for the past two years. Imagine if I had given the diary back to him in 2013, there would never have been entries dated 2014. There wouldn't have been entries written just because I had wanted so much to talk to him.

You see, we did really talk a lot when we first met each other and when we're not fighting. We usually talk to each other as soon as we wake to when we sleep. Never for more than an hour did we not text each other. We have endless subjects to talk about, ideas to share and identical habits to discover in each other. That was us. We're almost like best friends. Or I would like to think now, we used to be best friends in our past life. But not this life. The Universe had decided that this is the end of this arrangement which has spanned across a few lifetimes.

On 3 October when Carl left for LA, I picked up my phone and told Benjamin I have something for him. I have my closure and that was it. I want to return everything to him, the piece of him that he had given me. And if by reading all the entries I've written him all these years could give him the bit of solace he's been seeking for for years, then please let him read it. Please let him know how I felt, how I used to think and perhaps, allow him to understand why I reacted the way I did, which resulted him in not being able to let go of the resentment and hatred he has been habouring for two years.

I wanted us to say goodbye. I know we can never live with each other. Have we been thoroughly happy for the last couple of years? At least, I would like to think so. Even though Carl and I aren't officially back together, I know and hope we will one day be able to commit to spending the rest of my life together. Whether will I be thinking about Benjamin on my deathbed when I'm 85, I don't know.

***
14th March 2013 Thursday

It was a warm night. We took off to Sentosa after our dinner at Piedra Negra. You had a beer and I had a sangria. We sat by the beach and listened to the waves. For a good moment, we both kept quiet and allowed ourselves to be, to just be in the presence of the moment, right next to each other.

"When I went to the states for this military training, Schofield Barracks to be exact, we had potatoes for meals all the time. But the food was good, they were good."

Silence

It was September 12, 2015 that I decided to disappear and live a life of a recluse. I didn’t want to take a shower but decided to because I desperately wanted to brush my teeth. I had this unspeakable paranoia that if I don’t brush my teeth for a day, they will all be gone the next day. Sitting on the toilet bowl and emptying the little of which I’ve consumed the day before, I found out that the bathroom felt safer than my bedroom. It’s where I smoke and clean myself.

“Since you’re taking a shower anyway, why don’t you make sure you clean every inch of your body real clean?”

I have a habit of buying and keeping toiletries as and when I visit Watson’s. I always have a fear of running out of toiletries. Even when I do have a lot of travel sized ones, I still feel safer with the full sized version. I am worried about having no shampoo, no shower gel, no toothbrush and no facial foam. Funny thing is, I never worried about running out of toothpaste. My youngest sister was the one who worries about that so she always has it covered. I guess I take this for granted.

*

How could one who live in the light of day comprehend the depths of night?

*

I had to put away the Haruki Murakami book that I was reading. Once again, I fear that if I ran out of his books to read, I’ll be lost again in the depressed funk that I’m very familiar with and start crying. I made myself noodles and coffee for breakfast this morning. When I was still hungry, I had three crackers and felt bad for having nothing nutritional but carbohydrates.

*

“Hey, are you OK?”

“No.”

“OK.”

The phone ranged and exchanged were three short sentences that lies a whole lot of underlying meaning beneath. The display of concern at the beginning, followed by something which the asker didn’t want to hear, followed by something which the respondent didn’t want to hear. What’s the point of checking in on someone when you know you are incapable of doing anything if she’s not OK? Don’t anyone realize it makes people feel more helpless than she already is?

*
I can’t talk today. Or rather, I’m tired of talking and I have nothing I want to have a control of anymore. Things are not expressed don’t exist. If we strictly abide by the learning of this, reality will crumple. Kingdoms will fall and the government will cease to exist. It’s as simple as that.

“If you don’t say it, how will anyone know it?”

“It exists within me and I know it.”

“Bullshit.”

Goodbye Kitteh.

Everyone damn girl I see;

they look like they will make you happy.

They look like your dream girl...

one of them must be. 

Everyone, anyone

but me.

When Is Too Much Too Much?

I've been sitting alone pondering about the failures I've had in life and asked if I'm indeed as what they have labeled me to be - not strong enough. If I take away the self blaming element of this entire career saga that I've been going through, I realized it isn't me who's flawed. It's the work and elitism system here in Singapore that is. Having been out and about MNCs and SMEs, I noticed the huge jaw dropping difference in both. MNCs care a great deal about employee welfare, SMEs only care about the business. And when you only care about your business, guess what, you shall forever remain as an SME.

I've been down in the rut recently questioning myself once again what is the matter with me. I ran a barrage of questions I had with my friends who worked or work in creative agencies in hope to determine if I've being fairly treated at work. The answer they gave was no. I'm on the client side and rightfully speaking, it shouldn't be as taxing as it is on the agency side. Yet my friends from agencies can tell me, that they think it's too much.

No more self reproach. For I've taken far too much medication to calm myself when I wake in the middle of my sleep to weep like a child. I haven't been sleeping well that's to say. No, I haven't been sleeping at all without the aid of my medication. I'm most probably labelled as flawed and weak in the eyes of workaholics and control freaks. But in all honesty, I don't give a damn. This is my life after all.

Paying Dues

The saying, "You'll never know what you got till it's gone," truly resonates with me.

Not long ago, I enjoyed the surreal luxury of leaving work on time every day, with public holidays and weekends off, and not having to work during sick leave, on paid holidays, or after hours. Now, I find myself grappling with the chaos of modern life. The deeper I dive into social media, the more I lose the precious "me-time" I once had. It feels like I’m always on call—emails and WhatsApp messages flood in no matter where I am or what time it is.

It seems many Singaporeans struggle to grasp the concept of work-life balance. I was fortunate to spend two years at John Wiley & Sons, where I learned what true balance looks like. We were actively discouraged from working after hours, on weekends, and during public holidays. When we were sick, we were expected to focus on recuperating, not replying to emails. If you were working after hours, it raised questions about your productivity during the day. This was their culture.

Additionally, we were granted an extra half day off before every major holiday, recognizing the diverse cultural landscape in Singapore. The UK and US teams understood that when Malays and Indians enjoyed a half day off before CNY and Christmas, the Chinese deserved the same before their New Year. It made sense.

Ironically, I haven’t encountered this kind of understanding in any Singaporean company I’ve worked for, despite the nation’s pride in its multiculturalism.

There’s a misguided belief among some Singaporeans that if you’re sick, you should still be answering emails and texts. If you don’t work after hours or on weekends, you’re seen as lazy. I find this cynical mindset baffling.

I miss my life in the publishing industry, where authors, professors, and doctors were a more pleasant group to work with. The perks that John Wiley offered have set a standard that few companies—except perhaps Google—can match.

I fondly recall walking into the office free from political tension, headphones in, working in a peaceful, conducive environment. I miss the two-hour lunches with colleagues, sharing ideas and discussing politics instead of gossip. I long for the simple pleasure of finishing work at 5:30 PM and walking to the lobby to see my black Mazda waiting for me.

I've come to realize that fame and prestige aren't what I seek. I want to be carefree, yet recognized as an academic—someone who loves books and literature. I’m not interested in writing ostentatious press releases or fancy copy. The spotlight of social media feels overwhelming, and dealing with the online crowd can be stressful. If you’ve spent time on social media, you know exactly what I mean—some people seem to revel in negativity, and there are those who thrive on being cruel.

Becoming Freer

I've always believed there's something more in me. The ability to put thoughts into words without sounding phony, the crisp style of words usage without flamboyance. But the funny thing is, I always thought I was never good enough until I read how Haruki Murakami started writing.

I remember vividly when I was 11, I received my marked English essay and was very surprised that I had scored a high 38/40. The teacher then announced that my essay was the highest in class and also I had topped all combined 4 classes. I wasn't very impressed with myself but I was nonetheless surprised. Because on the day when I handed in the essay, I had thought I was going to flunk it or score really low. My classmate who sat next to me borrowed my essay to read and then returned it together with a black facial expression. I returned the favour with a blank expression as well.

The both of us clearly didn't know how I had managed to top all classes.

The writing style was nothing to boast, the story plot was nothing spectacular where there's a hidden plot twist at the end, the main character was named John.

I had a thought just earlier today (I always have a lot of thoughts) that I could live on $50 a month at a backward village where if I want to drink, I would have to fetch water from the well. That way maybe I could write something, figure out my life and quit smoking altogether.

My Sacrifice

I think this little speck here in the cyberspace is the most brilliant example of paradox. You see, I fucking well know there's no one reading whatever I write here YET at the same time, these words are possibly the truest form of my reality. No pretense, no lies and a whole load of swear words. Yes yes, and whatever that has taken place in the last TEN years of my life. So I am honestly documenting every thoughts I have, every struggle I go through, every breakup, every men I've known and the list goes on.

Ten years later, check back and you might find baby photos. Fifty years later, my writer daughter is going to turn this into a book.

I have 198 songs in my favourite playlist on iTunes that I can never tire of listening. It should be 199. I had forgotten to pull Foo Fighters - Everlong in.

It's 9 August today. One more day and Carl and I would have known each other for two years. He's been really sweet today. It feels like we are back together. Alas, we are not. According to him, he needs this space to be on his own to figure himself out, as well as his future. I mean... What's there to figure out about his future? I am YOUR future babe. But it's okay, you'll see it in due time. You'll never meet another person like me. You know this all too well. How often does one meet someone who's:

1. all your friends love (without having to buy them rounds of shots)
2. watches football with you
3. plays games with you (and bought you Football Manager before anyone in SG gets to play)
4. debates whether 2pac or Biggie was the best rapper ever lived with you
5. eats whatever shit you eat
6. travels with you and carries her own bag
7. fashion savvy enough to style you
8. has a Mensa IQ
9. almost became a Googler
10. am the best in bed that some call her Sex Goddess
11. has a fucking wicked sense of humour

And the list goes on.

So babe, if you're ever reading this, you're really just plain stupid if you never come back. If you did, which you will, you're being wise.

If you're the new girl of his, well, I have a longer list. You might even start to think I'm perfect for him, not you.

12. i speak my mind all the time.

50 Years Into The Future

Lying semi awake in bed, I can't help but to log in here to write down some of the much random and melancholic thoughts I have. As Singapore ushers in her 50th birthday, I tried to flash back as much as I can, peering into my childhood and teenage years, all since the year 1985 in which I was born in. 

Hello 30. 

Time has its way. Whether you think of it having a good horsepower or one akin to a Picanto, it travels linear without showing a tinge of mercy on us. Hitting 30 made me realize I am no longer young. While the days of incessant partying has long gone, I can still smell the sweetness of the residue left behind by the days of my 20s. The rebel, the carefree, and the careless. My body has failed me quite a tremendous bit where four hours of sleep no longer suffice. Aging is real and so is our race against time, the one thing we can never beat.

50 years into the future, Singapore will be celebrating her 100th birthday. Technology would have taken yet another huge evolution and the politicians we see now would have long died. Without doubt, my parents would have also died. And I, will be 80 years old. The idea of losing my parents is devastating in an abstract fashion I would call my own. I do believe there's a paradise which we all go to after our time here is up. That thought makes me happy. Alas, before I can confirm whether this is true, the absence of their presence would be a thing I will notice with regret. They were after all, once roaming on this land, living in the same dimension.

What would I be like when I'm 80? Will I have a lot of children? Grandchildren? Will I still remember this feeling I have right now when I'm old and feeble? Will I be placed in a nursing home thinking about my husband who had died before me? Will I be a happy elder? Will I still remember I do social media for a living? Would I have, by then, be able to decide whether 2pac was a better rapper or Biggie? 

How will Singapore change? How will the world change? Will it be an apocalyptic one which Interstellar best depicts? Will mankind be struggling to find a chance to live in the unknown dimension? 

With so many questions on hand and I have no answers for. I know I can only wait to find out. Knowing that we are all in fact dying, and time is the one which will eventually kills us, I no longer wish to chase fame, prestige and money. 

I only want more time.

Just One of Those Days.

I have heard this saying for a million times, "When something doesn't kill you, it makes you stronger," and I have a very opposing view of this. Sans the belief that everyone lives a life that's akin to a bed of rose, I am absolutely certain that you too have had something in your life that didn't kill you. It may have made you stronger, it may have made you a better person but sure, you would have changed quite a bit from the experience. To quote a book that I read years ago by Marian Keyes, this sentence she wrote has been deeply etched in my head which I stand proud to believe even until today: 

"When something doesn't kill you, it makes you funnier."

I have always thought that from the photographs one takes, you're able to sorta tell what kind of emotional landscape she happens to have at the moment. I have always wished that I was a better photographer, but on a self-comforting thought here, I perhaps fare better at words than capturing moments. 

Today is one of the days where I will work once again. After a newly found disgust for weekends, #TGIF hasn't meant anything to me since. I find myself empty and lost on Friday evenings, not having the same dose of joy that once meant a lot ot me. So I diverted a lot of attention to work, online and offline shopping and also alcohol and cigarettes. 

I had successfully quit smoking for about a hundred days. Kicking an 18-year addiction, I became a social smoke with a snap of a finger, just because I had wished to be healthier, a lovelier person for Carl. At the end of the day, I realized when I'm in need of company and something to do, cigarettes never betrays. And alcohol is my temporary solace that I could have from all the madness I have within myself when I am sober. 

Who the fuck says it's wrong to drink to escape from problems and woes? Does this person even understand how it feels like to be miserable and yet pretending to be positive and strong on the outside for 150 days? Does this person know how it feels like to cry for 150 nights? 

My escape consists nothing short of alcohol, cigarettes and the utmost desire to run from the reality that's right before me to a past where I was carefree and happy. 

Good Woman

I have a thing for giving the title of any entry here the name of the song I happen to be listening to. When others think of it as nothing special, I think there's a lot to it. If the Universe chose to play the song (Spotify) when the urge in me to write was brought forth, then it must damn mean something. I believe, in some extent, that this is how the Universe is communicating with me. At this point of time, the Universe is telling me something.

I don't want be a bad woman

And I can't stand to see you be a bad man

I will miss your heart so tender

And I will love

This love forever

And this is why I am leaving

And this is why I can't see you no more

This is why I am lying when I say

That I don't love you no more

'Cause I want (to) be a good women

And I want for you to be a good man

And I was right wasn't I?

These four months have come and gone in a fashion that is not favoured by me. During this period of time that has passed, I have cried and bawled more than I ever did in my life. I have cried in the shower, I have cried before bed, I have cried when I took the train, I have cried when I was on the bus, I have cried at work, I have cried in all places you could possibly thought of. And surprisingly, I am still crying today after Carl and I have broken up for four months.

I have not gone on a holiday, reserving myself for him. I have not gone on any dates and I haven't had the desire to find someone new. They say the best way to get over someone is to find someone new. But what happens when you are sure you want no one else but that one person who doesn't want you? Do we give up and let go just because it's easier to do so, or do we stay put standing at the same spot because pain is the only feeling that you could feel in order to feel closer to the person? Whether it's walking away from a love you cherish so dear or staying put, it hurts nonetheless isn't it? Crying is my expression of hurt and pain.

"Yes, you can leave and hope for the best," I thought to myself on the train ride home this evening. I can hope for the best. But I too wish to fight for what I really want. It's my way of survival and I was taught that this is the way to do things. I have fought for who I am now, what I have now, and possibly the little achievements I have now. So when it comes to matters of the heart, why shouldn't I put up a fight? Isn't perseverance the only ingredient anyone need to achieve anything?

It's 2 July today and Carl and I are still not back together. It's my birthday soon and I don't want a new bag, not riches, not fancy dinner at fancy restaurants. I only ever want Carl and I to be back together. Not the same manner we were before but better.

Is this too much to ask for?

Opera Ghost

It's Saturday and I'm at home reading A Wild Sheep Chase by Haruki Murakami while listening to The Phantom of the Opera. How long have I not listened to it? Quite a substantial amount of time. How long haven't I stayed home on a Saturday to read, have coffee and listen to the opera? I can't remember but this doesn't feel brand new at all. This feels like I've once again returned home.

[At this point of time, Prima Donna came on. It's one of my favourite segments of the opera. Mainly because, if you realized, there were six of them intersecting one another at the same time. How they managed to keep up to the arrangement while not forgetting a beat and remember their cues while not getting distracted by others absolutely amazes me. Wait, there were six of them right?]

It's once again Saturday. What used to excite me a hefty lot now hurts me. There is anger building in me and I can feel myself gradually slipping away, choosing to be angry while I try to regain my worth by being myself -- the same and only bed of roses that Carl has managed to trample on and destroy. I'm a train that has run out of steam. The irony is while there's something burning inside, it's not the same kind of fuel that's pushing me forward to chase my dream. On the contrary, it's the kind of fuel that's pushing me the other direction. 

Of late, I found myself thinking about Ben a lot. Maybe because I've started to listen to The Phantom of the Opera again. I suppose one can hurt thinking about one man and seek comfort in another who used to hurt you. With time, all anger has dissipated and faint are the memories of the both of us fighting every night. All that are brought forth now are fond memories of the both of us together. But we're over isn't it? We will never have our paths crossed again. One thing I don't understand is why are people generally OK with loving someone who had once betrayed them mentally, physically and emotionally? I can't do that. Maybe because I'm a Leo and I pride loyalty above everything else. 

Never say Never

I wonder who still visit this space of mine here, one that I've been diligently updating every now and then since 2006. It's been 9 years and this space could well be the only thing I can easily trace back the forgotten past and the perhaps revisit emotions trapped somewhere if they are ever found again.

My insides are churning as I pen this now. My eyes are welled up with tears yet I am not crying. My heart rests the same, surrounded by my rib cage, beating in clockwork. We know a heart is a fist that pumps blood but at this moment, I wonder how a broken heart is able to do that. Still, I am living, I am breathing and I am in pain. 

So much has happened since February. I have lost the man of my dreams, the one who I thought I'll be with forever, the one who told me that all he's ever wanted of me is for me to be happy. Yet, all this unhappiness I am going through right now is summoned by his decision to end us. If our relationship is as what he's claimed, cherished, memorable and precious, why was the decision made in the first place? If I am one, who he's claimed to be, significant, important and valued, why did he choose to lose me? If this isn't love that he's feeling, to be crying, to be caring a damn lot about what I feel and think even until this day, then what is it? 

God, Universe, I wonder if you had heard me the other night where I pray to release me of this grief and pain. I would rather forget everything than to go through this again and again. I want to forget. I want to forget every thing. I want to forget him. 

So it seems,
the way you feel,
your frustration,
your patience running thin,
is all that matters to you.

And what I've been through,
what I'm going through,
doesn't call for a chink in your armor,
doesn't call for a bat of eyelid,
doesn't send a wrench to your heart,

You're the human.
And I'm only an object.
I have no feelings,
no thoughts,
no voice,
of any sorts.

Fortune Telling

There was a year I went to have my fortune read.

"In the future, you will meet someone who you will love a lot but he won't reciprocate. When that happens, it's crucial you surround yourself with family and friends for you might do something foolish."

He then continued, "You will never be happy working. And you will only be happy when you are in your 40s."

At this moment, I refused to let him be right. He then went on to pass away the year after.