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?