Scatteredfafa

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...

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 ...

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. 

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. 

"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."

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...

My favourite movie is Little Women. I read the book before I watched the movie, and I love the storyline so much just as it is, but Little Women (2019) by Greta Gerwig catapulted the story to a whole new level, adding on modern twists of feminism and giving us a satisfying ending. It's my comfort movie. Sometimes I just watch my favourite scenes, just to remind myself I'm not alone in feeling the way I feel. I strongly urge everyone to watch it, starring Emma Watson, Timothee Chalamet and Saoirse Ronan and all the other actors are wonderful as well.  The storyline is simple, nothing exciting, but it's definitely not boring. Centering around the four March sisters and the boy next door, taking us through their childhood and stepping into adulthood. It's relatable, we all go through the same threshold, saying goodbye to childhood. But like Jo, it's more difficult for me to move on, and it's comforting to know Jo feels the same way. Although she's fictional, th...

22k cases. My mind can't wrap around the logic of how this is happening. I believe everyone is as fed up as I am. It's a frustration that's brimming and even the lid is flying off, the whole being about to explode. It's an invisible itch that appears to be crawling along every inch of the skin. The question that haunts me, driving me up the wall to yell at everyone: "how the fuck did we get to this point?"  I've been like a lunatic. Randomly saying how life is meaningless and making jokes about how stupid everyone is. Fake it till you make it they say. Waiting for someone to inject hope into the wound swollen with pus of despair. I have a great imagination, but it has failed me, because I cannot imagine what could make me happy today or even in the future.  I love being busy, I don't like my mind. Ever since the lockdown, it has just been a constant inner fight. I can never go to therapy because I'd feel bad for wasting the therapist's time and...

It was the peak of the Perseid meteor shower a few days ago. Growing up watching Disney, I've always wanted to see a shooting star. Even as a young adult, having spent my whole life learning about logic and reason, there's still this small light of hope inside that if I wish hard enough, a shooting star would hear me and make my wish come true. My wishes have grown bigger and bolder; from the desire of turning into a princess to being happy everyday. There's so much I want to wish for. I want to wish for everyone I love. I wish I could write them all down on a piece of paper and throw it up into the sky and a star would reach for it.  We all could use a wish, especially this year. And so on that day, I waited for the dark sky to rain stars. I waited since 8pm, craning my neck and straining my eyes, just staring at the black sky. But there wasn't even one star in sight, just the moon lonely hanging, surrounded by the polluted air. I wanted to be sad alone, to bathe in my...

I’ve watched a domestic abuse happened right infront of me before. I was just a visitor, I was just a child, I was just there at the wrong time. I remember it vividly how I could feel the fear before the strike happened. The tension in the air as the abuser paced back and forth, his voice raising as harsh words are spewed out and how in a rush he strode in and repeatedly slap her. How it ended was a blur, but I remember the look of the bruises.   The memory never goes away. And I wasn’t even part of it. It has been years and when that person is around, all I can think is that moment. I got a glimpse at the monster he is just for a few minutes, and that’s who he is to me for the rest of my life. I can never forgive him for what he did, and luckily I never need to. I’ve read many books on domestic abuse. Even if the victim tries to convince us readers to look at the good side of the abusers, nothing can soften the steel voice in my mind that they need to leave. But I’ve been re...

I stared at my bookshelves. A haphazard collection of books from different genres. My eyes skimmed through the titles and I caught myself regretting buying some of them even when I know I shouldn't be. I plucked out a book wedged so deeply among others, one that I read when I was in primary school. My fingers left their mark on the dusty cover, I have no recollection of what the book was about, and after reading the description, I cannot remember why I found that book interesting enough to buy it. I hate my younger self for buying such an expensive book which I don't even want to read. I don't remember whether I used to love it. It's one of the signs that I've grown up. Another proof that people change.  With a heavy heart, I wipe off the sheen of dust on the books, flipping through the weathered pages, trying to remember at what age did I meet and hold them for the first time. Books are just objects but to put them away, they mean more than that, it's a reminde...

Miley Cyrus, the one I loved. I loved both Hannah Montana and Miley Cyrus. Hannah Montana The Movie was my comfort movie. I've watched it a thousand times. I have DVDs of her shows and her books. I have Hannah Montana stickers. I drew posters of her. My MP3 had only her songs. I knew all of her songs. I cried when we couldn't find a bag with her face on it. I used her photos as profile pictures and got angry when my other friend (who was also a fan) had better photos of her. My pencil case was her, my bag was her, my life evolved around her. She made me very happy.  Then she grew up and became very hot. She had very long mermaid hair. I cried when Hannah Montana show ended but I embraced the new her and her movies. I've watched LOL and The Last Song more times than raesonable. I liked those movies solely because she was in them. I loved her love story with Liam Hemsworth. I obssessed over her. I loved the way she looked and her style. She was so lowkey and her songs were am...

One of the sweetest scenes I've ever watched I watched this movie because it's suggested as a love story between an INFP and ENFJ. I love 90s movies. Notting Hill, My Girl, 10 things I hate about you, When Harry Met Sally, 13 going 30 etc. I've watched them all,I don't know why I've never heard of this movie, but I'm happy to have something new to watch. I don't know anyone else who I can have a 90s movie marathon with, it's really sad. I can't quite put my finger on the difference between old movies and now, there's just this classical element in old movies which just makes them valuable and meaningful. Maybe it's the dialogue or the originality of the plot. I love the 90s fashion! The movies now are just full of sex and weird. I digress.  What I love most about this movie is their conversation. Nothing exciting really happens in the movie. It's just them talking and walking around Venice. The chemistry is blinding. From the beginning to...

Olympic drama, politics, plague, people etc! So many things! So many problems! So many hate! So many evil! I'm moving to another planet, where love grows flowers and tears heal all wounds. I'm just tired, knowing very well that I have not done anything for the fight against evil and contributed nothing to the world but I still wish I can bring joy and hope amidst the chaos. I don't care about drama where it just involves pure hate, not scandals and conspiracy theories. Politics hurts my feelings, I can't believe how selfish politicians can sleep at night. If I think too much about the coronavirus, I don't think I can function. It seems like everyone is preoccupied with either one of those things right now, I wouldn't want to be a bother. And so I isolate myself and I write. I've been writing everyday, but I never finish any of them. Conversations with myself has increased tenfold and I have this nagging feeling to be a whole new person and start a new life. ...

'Begonia' is a type of flower symbolising caution, bringing with it ominous warnings of grave dangers and horrible consequences.  Dull colours and dire opening monologue, foretelling us this is for those who have been touched by sadness: everyone. It's the kind of movie that leaves you floating on the ocean, surrounded by your own feelings which threatens drown you when the closing song plays and you're still stuck in the movie long after it ends. There's a similarity with japanese anime especially Studio Ghibli's 'Spirited Away' but it's actually a Chinese animated fantasy movie. Before credits can be given to the movie itself, the story behind the birth of this presumed unlikely success, is enough to draw an oviation. It took more than a decade to produce this movie, with meager finance and powered by just a few people with nothing but talent and a dream. Perfection does not bloom overnight. The sky beneath the sea is gloomy and it domes over the ...

Just watched the news, it's heartbreaking to see the devastating condition we are in. We can cry and we can be angry, but we must never lose hope. We must do the best we can with the bitter lemons thrown at us. We have to focus on things that matter in life and appreciate every little thing that is good. Be kinder and more thoughtful of others. Care more, it doesn't hurt. Be there for someone who needs you. Make someone laugh, make sure they know you're there for them.  Because right now, everyone could use with a little love and laughter.