Scatteredfafa

 Dear readers, They used to say "time flies" and I thought I understood what they meant, but really I didn't. And now I'm here, just realizing it has been 3 years since I've last written here, and I'm wondering how did that happen. How did I not write for 3 years but it felt like I just posted my first blog last week. It's the first day of 2026 and I'm in my late twenties now. I was tidying up my google drives and basically just getting ready for the year ahead when I suddenly remembered about this long forgotten blog. I'd like to tell myself that this year I would set a goal to write again, but years of breaking that promise to myself has taught me to distrust my own words.  But would it hurt to try again? To place my faith in myself. Perhaps one year I might actually honor the promise and came through.  I shall try. As usual, I have a few goals and plans for the new year. It might seem silly to try and "rebrand" myself every time the ne...

Came across a picture book with remarkable illustrations. I don't remember the name, just that it was about a tiger and its smile. I don't know what other people think when they flip through the pages of jungles and arrive on the last page showing the imaginative, unrealistic grin of a tiger, but here's what popped into my mind: I am going to learn how to draw. I highly suspect that the main reason why I have barely accomplished anything with my life has to do with the fact that I want to do too many things, be too many Mes, and of course another reason could quite easily be that I have a genetic disease of procrastinating. I want to learn so many things and sometimes I wish I could rewind time and redo life.  I think a lot of things, but mostly I dream. I dream about all the possibilities, all the versions of me. A cartoonist, a film director, a writer, a pilot, a chef, a tree... Yes, a tree, with barks and leaves. Then I overthink and ruffle myself up to a state of melanc...

My favourite store at the moment. Puzzle Planet.  ​Solving a puzzle is not typically considered fun. To be honest, I'd agree. It's not easy, it's definitely at times frustrating, but I mostly love it for the art and the psychological effect.  Puzzles requires patience. To see the big picture, puzzles trains one to have faith that everything will come together. To put each piece one by one, believing you will see something beautiful soon. Solving a puzzle reminds me life is like that too. Sometimes we can't see the big picture, we can't imagine how things will get better, but we just need to keep putting one foot in front of the other and slowly we will see how everything falls into place.  Solving a puzzle angrily is somehow impossible. We have to be calm. It reminds me we need to take breaks so that we can tackle every knot and tangle we face as we weave through life.  Solving a puzzle is not just a hobby. It's catharsis, it's therapy. It's a safe place...

I consider myself a very secretive person. I admit, I'm not good at hiding my feelings and emotions. Annoying Karens can see the roll of my eyes behind my forced smile, and my crushes can detect the blush hiding underneath my expressionless face. The whole world (actually just people who read my blog or makes an effort to know me) knows that I'm both happy and sad, an embodiment of summer and winter, a still heat or a wrecking torpedo, only the extremes, no in betweens. I'm not good at hiding my emotions, and I don't intend to. I'm very vain despite the bouts of insecurities; the sky needs to know I'm in a bad mood and thus should rain accordingly, the sun needs to know that I'm happy and so should dim its light as I will be bright enough.  But I only ever reveal that much. I don't tell people the reasons behind the absent-minded smile or the sudden burst of tears. I feel the urge to keep this to myself, these reasons. Why? Because if people don't kn...

It has been a while since I've written anything. I guess no one reading what I have to say has discouraged me from writing. The truth is, no one wants to perform in the dark for their whole lives, no one wants to sing to only deaf people, and I don't want to write letters only to myself.  But I realised, I believe one day people will read my work. I should keep on writing like Van Gogh who kept on painting even though no one appreciated his work and even mocked him. I will write as if no one is reading.

I'm back. It's 2am. And I have things I want to say to everyone. I'd probably regret it, I mean regretting being vulnerable, not the things I am going to say. But who's going to read this anyways? My blog is like my diary, which I secretly hope someone would read but no one will.  I've missed writing. I didn't realise this until tonight. What have I been doing? So preoccupied to the point I've negected what sets my soul on fire. I'm disappointed in myself, but I've just learned a new word:  "Amor fati", it means love of one's fate, and I intend to practise this stoic way of life. It's Nietzche by the way. Is it fate that I didn't write? Is it fate that it just so happened that I had time to write but didn't feel inspired to? I don't know, it clearly stems directly from my choice to not write, but I'd like to blame it on fate.  I should probably write a little something each night. Maybe I should write stories.  Okay ...

The world is vast beneath me. The awareness that I'm just a speck in the universe hightens yet I feel much more alive and seen than I've ever felt. I stretch my wings wide as the fast wind ruffles through my feathers, urging me to leap off the tallest building in the world and trust my wings will carry me somewhere and my heart will soar. Do I trust the wind? Do I trust my wings? Do I trust the place I'm going? Would trust be enough? I turn my head around and squint my small eyes against the torrent of the wind, just enough time for courage to dissipate and self doubts barges in. Do I really need to do this now? What if I can't do it? What if I fall? Suddenly I can't breathe. My heart's drumming in more fear with each deafening beat.  I close my eyes and take a deep breath, trying to push the fear down. It is now or never. I will always be afraid, it will still be scary the next time, but each time I survive the jump, I will be braver and stronger. I lift one le...

In a tiny little cottage obscured deep in the forest, with two chimneys and walls made up of twigs and stones, there lives Effie who loves nonsense more than anyone else. She has a head of colourful long hair tied into three ponytails because two makes too much sense and one makes her sad. She has a laugh too loud from a little girl like her and sometimes it comes with tears and a snort that seems to be infectious to those around her.   Her friends live together in the crowded village, because they had said it made much more sense to always be with people you care about. They had frown and tutted at Effie’s cottage when they came to visit, saying it is nonsense to live so far alone. Effie had simply tutted back and ran around her cottage, singing at the top of her lungs.   “Stop it Effie! You’re being too loud!”, her friends had shouted through her singing, but Effie paid no heed because she had moved on to hit on her drums, playing the most impressive beats. When she ...

I stepped onto this crochet journey in Novermber 2021. I'm totally hooked now (pun intended) and I would like to share the learning process, the mistakes I've made and my thoughts alongs the ups and downs.   Click the link below and follow me for updates! Thank you                                                             Instragram link- Crochetcrody Cottoncrody, crody stands for crochet candy. I wanted to name my instagram account (fingers crossed my side hustle which can sustain my sweet tooth cravings in the future) Crochet Candy but apparently this name is already taken, so I had to improvise. I grew to like the name Cottoncrody more. So there's that. After my exams, I was trying to find new hobbies to pick up and something crafty that I can make as gifts for loved ones. I actually wanted to learn how to make scrunchies...

My mind has been swarming with negative thoughts, and the familiar feeling of doom is back. My pores are clogged up with toxicity oozing out from inside me, and the air around me feels heavy, clinging on to my skin, anchoring me to the dark clouds that surround me, drowning myself in a torpedo that no one else can see. I feel very bad about myself. There's so much limiting beliefs that I cannot shake off. People say self-awareness is the first step towards healing, but I feel like I'm still stuck in square one. I'm confused and lost but most of all, I'm scared. I'm afraid of the future.  I'm stuck inside too long. I wonder whether the sun misses me, but then I doubt that, who am I anyways. There goes the problematic self-deprecating way of how I talk to myself these days. There's no need to contemplate on whether or not I think too much, I'm a known overthinker.  Delving in deeper, all I see are my flaws, and I don't know how to look somewhere else. ...

Ending scene from the movie Background music:  Exile-Taylor Swift and Bon Iver I twist the ring on my finger nervously. A new ring,a sophisticated wedding ring. Not the ring she gave me when we were kids. I can feel its unfamiliar edges, encircling my finger a bit too tight, squeezing my heart. I continue ascending the rickety spiral stairs which I’ve bounded excitedly up so many times before. She, always in the front, me, right at her heels. “I would have followed you anywhere and everywhere”, a melancholy thought, weighing down every step and something inside me. I shrug it off, “This is right, this is what I want. I am happy now”, I said to myself absent-mindedly and put on a bright smile. When I reach the attic, it is more empty than usual. The trace of notes and scripts that used to be strewn everywhere on the floor has been covered up by a thin film of dust.   I can see a crumpled form covered under a blanket, sleeping on the worn-out couch by the attic window. I kno...

Everything is in pink. Love songs blare inside my brain as soon as I open my eyes in the morning. Sometimes I wonder whether my eyes turn into pulsating heart shaped balloons like in cartoons.  The cold and critical persona which I liked to wear is finally stripped and thrown away, revealing the true romantic and passionate person that I am. I am in love. And it's such a great feeling. I am in love with another human being. A human who glitches between being a boy and a man. When he is a boy,  I have the most adorable child with me and my heart would swell in promise to protect him from any evil and give him all the love I have. As a man, his eyes shine with kindness and his steps radiate courage, when our eyes lock, I swear my heart stops and whispers, 'He's superman'.  This is better than winning the lottery. Having met him and then being loved by him, it feels like I've won the whole world. 

It feels as though I've stumbled through the months and have bewilderingly arrived at the last journey of the year. I'm having mixed feelings of excitement tinged with the ever present melancholy when the year comes to a close. Will I ever escape this sadness when things end? I doubt it. 

I have arrived again at a crossroad. The arrow signs are crooked and unwieldy. My compass has gone haywire and I can feel the invisible tugs coming from every direction. A choice has to be made, but my heart is heavy and my legs refuse to take another step forward nor backward. It's a strange predicament to be in. Knowing the sky is the limit but yet struggling to fight off the feeling of being chained and restrained. I've been standing at the same intersection for some time, trying to calm the nerves that frizzled at every bird that flutters past and to hold on to hope that dwindles at every light that dims. Time flies, ignoring my silent hopeless pleas of stopping just for me, a wretchedly lost girl.  And so I come, to the comfort of words, to listen to my heart. I've come back to swim in the swirl of my thoughts. I shall now sit and listen at the crossroad. Soon, I'll see my path and walk it with faith. 

 "One who loves nothing and no one, would not be afraid of death."

"A lifetime ago, my heart tore and my blood dyed my soul black, but on one moon, the emptiness drained and colour seeped in again, and suddenly I saw you, standing there, bright yellow and blue, and I blushed red."

It came from the sea.  The man, but not exactly a man, one who's standing stiffly at the other end of the swimming pool. It shall be referred to as a "he" to avoid confusion, but readers beware, always keep in mind that he was not a human and it is dangerous to forget that he was not, because you'll have empathy, and empathy is a weakness, and such weakness kills. His hair was slick and slimy, tangled with kelps, crusted with barnacles. Lips tinted blue and fish scales at the elbows and neck glistened in the sunlight. Muttering under his breath, he lifted his head up and stared at me with his bloodshot eyes.  "We're...here...Frances. Now you... drown.", he gasped, like he's shocked that he had a voice. Just a slave, a sacrifice and I could see fear in his eyes, pleading for an escape from his fate. But we both know, only the sweet kiss of death could help us both. It would have been pitiful if it wasn't for the death threat and the fact that he w...

I've been incredibly busy and overwhelmed. With my sister's 21st birthday coming up, personal projects and school, I find myself locked and tied, yet again. Some heavy anchors and locks, some ribbons and heart strings. They said life would get easier, you'll have time to be who you are one day. I thought one day the sacrifices and regrets would make sense. But 5 years later, I only realised, life doesn't get easier, you only get stronger and most of the time, good things don't come twice. Sometimes the only thing you can do is move on from mistakes when you find yourself repeating them over and over again.  I don't really know where I'm going with this post. I'm just itching to write something, anything at all. It's no secret that I have a problem with commitment and hence all the short stories that I never finish because my mind is buzzing with too many ideas. I'd post the half-hearted writings, maybe finish them someday.  Dear readers, I need t...

As someone who gets taunted at night by the ghost of past mistakes, a lot, I'm writing this on a bright sunny afternoon with a clear conscience, to remind you and myself that we are not our past. We get to evolve, we get to be someone new and better.  We all have those moments when we turn around and briefly look again at the past. Sometimes it can start with something small like spilling coffee, and we start travelling to the bad parts of the past. If we don’t stop it, we will find ourselves stumbling through the rabbit hole, landing in the underground archive of our mistakes and regrets in life. Ornaments from an embarassing thing we said, souvenirs from broken friendships. We’re no Alice, there’s no ‘Eat me’ cake or ‘Drink me’ potion to save us into finding a way out. We will be left a crumpled mess, too absorbed in self-pity to realise we fit through the door to leave afterall. But we can leave, and we'll get better and faster at finding the way out.

In a blink of an eye, there are only 4 months left to another new year.  I would like to first congratulate all of us for surviving. Survival has been the ultimate goal these two years. Despite the many disappointments and regrets over what-could-haves, I am immensely grateful to be alive. I'll leave the more thoughtful and tear-jerking 'essay' reflecting the year in December, I just want to whip up something short about my thoughts and feelings on these past 8 months. The first 3 months was me being burned out and busy with moot competition. People say, "To do one thing that scares you every year", I've gotten that out of the way early on. They were dark days filled with anxiety and nervousness. Surprisingly in the midst of it all, I still had a lot of fun. It's the first time in many years that I finally allowed myself to relax over studying and not to punish myself too hard. I'm really glad I took that leapt to step out of my comfort zone, even thou...