Song from a young heart.

I've got lots to say... But yet I couldn't say.

Weighed down by the weight of secrets

Promises

That I've sworn not to break.

How I wish

That there'd be that someday

When my eyes could truly capture

Moments.

That touched my heart so......

Like that of the laughter of friends

The smile of a stranger

Familiar familial embraces 

And the touch of a darling's hand.

Oh... As little life may be

As I am by now

Coming out to be the adult me

I've felt younger and older

than the age of seventeen.

But sometimes 

when I look across the deep blue sea,

and think back on how far I've come and gone

I sit back and wonder

if I should believe

I've ever felt so much...... of life itself.

A chapter of my life

comes to a close.

A chapter that I find hard to leave

Behind me

For how much

I've bled, loved, hated, lost, fought and loved again

I hope

to reread this chapter one day.

And feel like I'm seventeen again.

A call to the fallen.

****************

The phone rang and broke the silence in the room.

"Aren't you going to pick that up?"
"Shut the fuck up, Jack." Debbie spat at her ex-best friend as he stared at her blankly in return. "You're not authorized to tell me what to do in my house,"

Debbie moved clumsily, knocking over a plastic vase as she reached out for the handset and with her lips trembling slightly apart, "Hello, this is Deborah Ryans speaking,"

"Hey Debbie, is Jack there?" It was Hugh's voice.
"No, he isn't. I haven't spoken to him since the move,"
"He did say that he'd come and visit though,"
"He's not here; I'm telling you. And even if he is, I wouldn't have let him in. Thanks for calling man, bye."

And with that, she hung up.

Jack seemed to be focusing too intently on the fallen flower vase. "I overheard everything, you know,"
"I know," Debbie said in her too good as a matter-of-factly tone. "I wanted you to hear everything,"

******************

A short story broken.

He looked to his left, then to his right, turned his head around once more to make sure that no one was spying on him. Then, he dropped his writing equipment and collapsed onto the floor.

You had that one fucking opportunity to prove yourself. 

Sure, in life we make many endeavours, but what we were never taught is that if we were like most people, we are likely to fail a lot of those endeavours. He thought that he had it too. He took a hard knock to his head and felt the pain oozing down from his head, spreading a message across his entire body......

I want to forget about this. Fast.

He took another swing to the head until it got so addictive that he depended on it to feel good. The pain had suddenly vanished and was replaced by an odd sense of relief that brought upon ecstasy. It dawned down on him that chances were that if he punished himself enough for his mistake, perhaps it would be easier for him to forgive. So yeah, he'd continue to do it.

Release me......

It wasn't enough. He had to scream his lungs out, or maybe let something tear his voice apart. He wanted to destroy something and make it scary. He craved for a stronger sensation to overcome the draggy aftermath feeling of fucking disappointment. He knew what he was capable of doing. He had the odds in his favour. It just wasn't his day. Such cruelty and unfairness playing him like a toy in God's ever fair game.

Alas, his eyes became watery and he succumbed to his own tears for the first time since the longest time. It was like as if he needed some form of permission to cry, or to let go of what he had been fighting so hard to hold back for a long time, and down went the waterfall like whoosh...... OH YEAH, YOU BET HE CRIED. He cried as if tomorrow was over, banging his fists onto the floor again and again until he grew tired of repeating himself.

Is it over yet?

She peered from behind one of those nearby pillars, and waited. She watched him tear himself apart, from bit to bit and held her breath in. She was there, but only did she watch. Like one of those million stars in the sky, she would probably wonder when he's going to stop, but not want to approach him. It wasn't that she was afraid, or that she hated the fact that she was just another passer by who happened to see someone want to destruct himself and is torn between what to do. She knew that she couldn't help him.

If you can't fix something and make it better, at least don't make it worse.

She patiently waited until he pulled himself together, wiped every last tear drop off his sunken face which was still red from all the pressure he had exerted upon himself, and watched him leave, leaving nothing more than his broken and faltered memory of today's failure behind. Her eyes never left his scarred back, and as she tried not to shed any more emotion than how a stranger would feel to see another beautiful passer by leave forever on a bus which will end the light hearted moment as the bus drifts further and further away, she let out a sigh, swept up the fallen leaves from the broken pavement, and walked away.


The End,
CCM.

Chapter of Goodbye.

Few weeks back, you've probably heard from a girl who's tried her luck at sounding like, "Oh, I know so much,".

Two days ago, the same girl had graduated from high school.

This is really the most amazing process, change. Pretty much it's like flowing down the waterfall instead of fighting against the current, seeing where it takes you next. While you're in the midst of moving along the stream, you'd never notice your surroundings changing because you're just too caught up in the movement. Everything just moves so quickly that it absorbs you- until you'd eventually become a part of it. For me, that was my school life. Every day, I'd walk down the same corridors, make the same turns at every right corner and look into every window that I could to meet my own reflection to just to figure how I would look like that day. Yes, I'm secretly a vain child. Mornings would start off with me walking hand in hand with my 7 year old pretend-son named Keith to his block and I'll watch his back until he dissolves into a crowd of his own kind. He's the brightest and sweetest 7 year old boy I've ever met, even the guys in my year can't be half as sensible as he. Then, I'd walk past people, like lots of people, and feel like I'm a part of their lives for that one millisecond before...... We part each other.

Finally, I reach my classroom.

For easily more than 600 days and counting, I've walked into a room full of people whom I've considered as a regular part of my life, like that set of keys you'll need to unlock your front door. I'd walk in, find my current seat at the time, slump down and take a look at the class again, wondering if they're thinking the same way. Deep down, we were all absorbed in our own worlds, so much that we forgot where we actually are. I used to get that a lot when I was younger. Okay, fine...... Still do.

And there'll be faces; faces that will stick in your mind even while you'll in school as you think thoughts of them coming up in your head but you'll push them to one side and think more deeply about them later for dessert. I'd experience all of that, knowing that I wouldn't be the only one doing so. Sometimes, it makes me happy to know that there'll be someone I could literally "come back home to" and look forward to pouring my heart out later on to make up for the worst days. It used to be like that. Nowadays, it's a little different in the sense that my "someone" might not be there all the time.

A friend told me this, "No matter what you do, you shouldn't depend on someone else for happiness,".

I fully agree with that. When I look back at previous posts, I'd always have that tinge of regret, as the posts get harder and harder to read every time. It's almost as if it were to be coming from a different person, as I tore out bits of the depths of my thoughts and lay them out on a platter for everyone to taste. Basically, it feels like as if there was a panel waiting to judge me, as I also judge myself. But when I think back to the time when I said what I had to, as if to throw off a huge burden being laid on my shoulders, that sense of relief brings closure and washes out everything like epidural- with marks to prove that you've lived through it.

Throughout the entire process of trying to live with a broken heart, I've learnt life lessons that I'd never know about if I were to be entirely wholesome and happy all along. At the time, it really felt like shit trying to live in the moment of drowning but after resurfacing, you'd breathe again for the first time. Like how sometimes it's better to say nothing rather than to say something at all. How less was more. And how the strongest form of love- is letting go of what you want, and thinking of what the other does. You'll hurt, of course, to think that you're burying your losses but hey, love was never a fair game. Take it as a joke but this is the only field where even all of the hard work could get you to no where at all. "Laughs" Rest assured that there won't be any "School" for this. How straining it could be for a feeling to drag on to the extent of nothingness, the greatest loss.

"Like that of the winter wind, our lives will gently linger on......"

Last Friday, I was given just one night to end this chapter of my life. There were all of the people who'd once taken places in my life, all dressed up to look beautiful and handsome just to say "happily ever after". Really! Everyone looked great, but somehow when I look them in the eye, I still see them the way I do everyday at school; which is being all dorky in school uniforms and with crazy, weird walks or maybe teachers with their own funny character...... but that's the way I'll remember them forever. Honestly, I had to wait for those tears to come; and to my displeasure, they only came later at night when I replayed every single heart wrenching scene and realised that everything was really over. Even with one third of a bottle of red wine, I tossed and turned in bed, trying to cling on to the aftermath of it all but I gave in  to sleep soon after. Perhaps it was the realisation that I did feel that much but kept it all inside to be concealed from everyone else. Maybe all those times of doing so in the past has lead up to the day when my wall will slowly crumble and fall apart and reveal how weak I really was.

The truth was that I loved ...... and cared, but never shown it.

As I turn around to look at the beautiful disaster that I've left behind for myself,
but how it has become someone else's sparkling sunset......
This is my gift to you.

I love you.

-End of Chapter-

CCM.

Late night chronicles.

Okay.
I'M NOT OKAY.
I'm fucking screwed up, inside out.
And I do know exactly why.

Is it denial? Or merely a dilemma, to put it in short; as to why I seem to be having more "emotional imbalances" as compared to say... a few months back. Back to a time when it was easier to feel lighted-hearted, and open up to a world full of possibilities huh? I don't know, really. Thinking about it, memories of a golden era such as that one seemed to have happened light years ago. Do I recall those days with fondness?

No. I reminisce them, and grief.

Like, it's a resounding, "Come back" and "Don't leave me" that I hear pounding within my ear drums, making my blood pressure shoot up every time I remembered something that had made me feel happy before in the past. And that really sucks because it sort of ruins the whole beauty of retaining a sweet memory in the first place. The purpose of remembering had been defeated. Instead, it shaped a new learning curve that- (Yes, here comes my classic, favourite line)-

Never would I have thought 17 years of living a simple life will lead me up to this day, when I would contemplate about the depths of a relationship. It's amazing how pretty much there hasn't been a conclusion as to how love works... Because the matter of love sets itself on a scale between what's illogical, nonsensical and passion-able. Sometimes, we make choices based on feeling- actually I'm sure majority of our human population does - and label it as "natural instincts". We trust our hearts more than the call of our brains basically; because THE HEART'S WHERE ALL THE LOVE GOES~

Hear this: A destined tie would knot itself naturally. That's the only natural instinct "law" that I would believe in. And past fluttery moments that had once made your heart pace like a F1 race car may have created moments you'll hold on to for the rest of your life but it won't be strong enough to justify itself as a "natural pull".

The right person to make that kind of a difference in our lives is someone who would bring out the best in ourselves.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

See that line above? It's to split the post apart due to timing differences; you see, that was written the week before past my school bedtime hour when well...

Sleep won't come.

And now, I just can't continue ranting about relationships anymore because I know that I would end up feeling like a virgin trying to preach about sex and such. I felt naked. So vulnerable under my skin. And yet I let you exploit me, filling me throughout with passion only to slowly let it come to the day when it all falls apart, so basically... A BROKEN LOVE IS LIKE MENSTRUATION. The bits and pieces that once used to build a wall of comfort and assurance just melts down. No thanks to progesterone. Shucks, Bio is killing me.

There were many occasions in the past where something out of the usual daily routine would come up and I wouldn't have written about it. Hence, the special thing is forgotten. What I realised is that these days my special things seem to center about me not thinking about the painful love drug that's literally, actually REALLY sucking the life out of me. Like, my standards of fulfilment have dropped a great deal- I'm actually just about happy to hear my Mom's endless tales about the noise or traffic outside our house, highly confidential secrets about her shot at forbidden love and talks of just any other piece of landed property that we can call home- I feel like I've aged significantly in a time span of what... few months? The beauty that came out of it was that finally, I think that I've forged that kind of attachment bond between me and my Mom that I would trust her as not just my mother, but also a friend. And yes, Mama's always going to be your No.1 supporter.

Just so you know, Hae, I'll be skipping school tomorrow but somewhat my gut feeling's told me to go- I gave in to my inflamed throat though- because deep down, I dread school so much that I would prefer to jail myself so as to not return to my ultimate cause of misery which had lately evolved into depression. I couldn't help it. Cried once before an Add Math paper and another time last week because I felt the same 'pang' in my heart that would trigger off the old "fork piercing through my heart" scene again that replays itself until I succumb to my tears. Yes, it is that hard for me these days. And it had to be the way I end my schooling life, less than 3 weeks away to Graduation. Why the gut feeling then? Because I hate the idea of running away or trying to escape pain. Tried it for years and all that I've learnt is that you get more from shredding yourself because you learn how to be tougher, at least.

To cool off from excessive brain damaging from virus S-T-U-D-Y-I-N-G, I would grab my hands onto anything that does not have anything to do with my evil phone, because the evil phone would bring back scarred memories of times when I would use it more often for, you know "dot dot dot". Facebook is getting to be like a "No-Book" on my notebook, and my Twitter and Instagram accounts have been long MIA since touring with the Band Perry singing "If I Die Young" a gazillion times since they died themselves, in 2012 when I was that annoying 15 year old kid who would retweet Harry Styles's tweets in hopes of getting a follow back. So I've been pouring my heart and soul into bit and pieces of music, a lot of articles be it newspapers, magazines, books, and my recent fetish of streaming movies and Youtube videos is back. Very unhealthy indeed. I can't take "precious" time for granted now.(BTW Silver Lining's Playbook is an amazing movie, Jen Lawrence is a true gem)

Today's weird activity was that I tried Googling up quotes for the broken hearted and stumbled upon this quote, "Silence is the best way to tell someone that he/she's done wrong,". The question is, will it linger on forever? Like that of the swift howl of the winter wind, that will come and go, as it readily seduces with its body-like sensuality spiralling around head... Until it disappears. Leaving with no trace, no goodbye.

That, is the feeling of losing someone whom you will remember for good.

As The Script's new album heads "No Sound Without Silence"
I've decided to be the common rebel with the introduction of-
"Break the Silence" songs by the likes of Nick Jonas, Metal band Firewind, Thousand Foot Krutch, and Jason Hartman.


Well...... Fuck it. Break it.


Your "once in a while" one night stand,
CCM.

Since morning.

The past two days have been rather interesting.

Considering the fact that I've skipped the after-school bus twice in a row and trading in my usual lonely evenings for some company... In the hospital. It's hard to describe my feelings towards these white, sombre buildings but hospitals will always have that kind of effect on me- such that the world would suddenly stop spinning and all attention would be focused onto people from all walks of life, and by that I mean, ALL WALKS OF LIFE, for being at that very place for different reasons.

There's the Mercedes Benz that sits in its regular bay, always first to come and last to go; with an extra white coat kept in the boot. A lady walks out of the car, with an air of great importance as her mind is running twice as fast as her strides, mentally matching names of patients needing endoscopy and colonoscopy so as not to mix them up. She makes her rounds, gives out prescriptions, prepares for an emergency surgery and makes her way back to her Merces, mind still running on the face of her last patient.

Then you'll have the average Myvi that parks alongside every other visiting car, and along with one car comes out at least four young women all dressed in uniform colour and bringing up their daily "butter and bread" to the people, and for the people they serve. These are the fairies that make up an enchanted garden, even though our human nature has made it such that-not all of what we see is pure goodness but still- Thank God for nurses. From my personal experience of being a patient and seeing my Potato friend be a patient herself, the nurses are there to lighten up the grim, dark hallways and make people feel better about being there. They say more than hello upon greeting, cracks joke once in a while, or even if no words are said, the smile would always come. Maybe it was a compulsory part of their nursing course. Oh, but the senior nurses smile like a pro, Kate Middleton style.

There's also the motorcycle, that comes every two hours with a new takeaway of food, pillows, blankets and a visitor's pass as the rider makes his way to a general ward, grabbing the daily news as he'd go. He comes into Ward 103, with a new code to remember due to the lastest change in ward seating, and takes a seat beside a woman in her early twenties, his hand gently stroking her temples as she sleeps through another afternoon before she would wake up two hours later and not recognize the man holding her hand any more.

Well, trips to the hospital might come to me as a "once in a while" occurrence, but for Potato, it was second home and has always been and will be, a part of her life. Today, we watched "Memento" as she still had a bag of blood left to go. I asked her for how long she has been in the ward for-

"Since morning,"
"I wonder how you go through all these hours of just waiting,"

She has no choice. But from how I see it, years and years of going through the same thing moulds her for the long waits. It's just the thought of having of to be alone. When loneliness hits, it's really like a state of desolate isolation, and you're one person against the world. People can come and go, but you wonder if there's someone who would come just for you. Urgh... My nonsensical side is showing... Crap.

I'll tell you a bit about a friend, who would say that he always felt lonely in the past, and lived walking past dark corridors with no one to understand him. It wasn't just loneliness but on his half, he felt like he had no purpose;and that he wasn't important. It's really funny how the people most worthy of love never think that they are capable of giving so much, and how precious the value of trust is, as fragile as a dying heart... All I can say is that those deserving of love, will eventually receive love when it comes. And dear friend, I pray that no matter where you'll end up in the tide of times, love will always come to your side.

I'm trying to learn up the art of writing in the NOW. Yesterday, my trials ended with a rainy evening. Today, I bring my results home to a dreamy, sunny evening and I get the expected downplaying from my dear old folks-

"It's an improvement, no doubt. But to say that we are proud... Hmm..."

SNAP.
I KNEW IT.
Always "nearly" there, but never crossed the line of satisfactory.
Looks like, until then...

I'll be having higher priorities to attend to.
It hurts me so much to give up what I love for something that I am forced to love.
Sigh.
Looks like God's already preparing me for adulthood.

Well, really, all I need:

Is to learn how to hold my liquor better.

That's it. Then, I live as a real woman.


Put your cups up,
and down...
Goodnight Hae.

I swear that I'm not drunk now.

Raw meat.

Hey Hae.

I just thought that penning down my raw thoughts might prove to be a harder thing to do, compared to the usual writing of one of those long life episodes where I'll normally moan and groan about the very amazing cycle of life at 17.

Well, let's try doing this.

Time to get
down and dirty and bloody...

RAW.

Raw meat. 

The first I ask for whenever I come home 

after a long hard day of survival in a sea

 a sea full of jellyfish, turtles, sea horses 

or maybe a SCHOOL of fish

I'd crave for the same plate

of gravy filled rat tails
Rat tails that twirl around oodles of noodles

topped with egg

and all of that one egg

just the yellowness of its sunny flavour

could bring back the light into...
Hallways.

Those hallways are always so dark.

Why? Why? Oh...

Shit.

I see shit everywhere. 

I look into a car window

I see a face that shames me.

For I knew that it would come back to me,

growing stronger and darker in its form...

Shit. Bloodstains everywhere.
Oh, holy mama I've bled,
and made others bleed too.
I'm bleeding of a broken, fractured,
very fragile heart.

I've got a head.
A head that can think up
the unimaginable
the illogical
the obsessions
the compulsions
and I would fall prey to my headly predators.

It's been such a long time
since my last relapsing period.
 For I thought
that my thoughts were better trusted
with all that I've ever concurred,
I would be granted relief
and closure 
from battle scars bound to haunt me repeatedly, irregularly, and surely
with no purpose
for no purpose.

So yeah. 
I am weakened.
During this crucial time of pressure, pressure, tension, pressure,
I can't let go of this game
of tug of war.
You know the feeling 
of having your heart
being stroked at ever so gently 
by the tip of a fork
before it penetrates the thinnest lining 
and pokes back again and again and again
with your heart flapping to the beat of a dying fish
Pulse still there... there... stop.
It is immensely difficult
to let one's heart decide at times.


I am not born a poet.
Nor am I a chef.
For the art of serving raw meat on a platter,
is done by the butchers.
Raw, fresh, bloody.
OR
Ever seen those Japanese sushi chefs?
Slicing Sashimi is a rather refined art too...

Though I may have sliced my fish one inch too thick tonight.

Speaking of which, I still owe a full "raw" account of a special day.
Don't worry, Potato. I'll get to you.


With blood marks, no sweat,
and yellow tears,
CCM.

Ships that sail far.

*Checks picture taken by her cousin*

"Crap, Car-Men... We both look like freakin MOMS,"

I just laughed, "Gosh... We do, eh?,"

It was her wearing a white sun dress with blue flower prints and me clad in a pair of shorts that matched my flowing white beach blouse posed next to a half eaten birthday cake bearing the picture of the entire boyband One Direction. My birthday girl was to turn sixteen that day.

She's still one year younger than me... I always forget that.

It's not like what we wore really flaunted our post-teenage stage figures to the extent people would gasp and go, "Oh spring chickens" and all; it was nothing of that sort! "Laughs to myself" To my horror and good grief, we've simply not seen each other in a while. Make that a very long while. Long term separation and suddenly, reuniting out of the blue does this to people. If I were to contrast that very picture with all of the other pictures taken along the years; years when we both bore skin tones one shade darker than original and when we spent most of our time lazing under the heat of the Sunday sun watching golf balls fly past us, each ball carrying a spoken secret between ourselves and sharing weekly stories our life...... I would end up sailing in my sea of nostalgia, adding tears to the water beneath me as I go. We looked somewhat more wholesome back then, smiling without any holding back, just forcefully expressing ourselves knowing that we could. One year later and here we are, unable to accept the fact that...

ARGH. We are "old".

But what matters is that we grow old together. Two little girls holding hands walking down the boulevard of life. Even though I am unable to be as close to my Bij as to how we were before, everything else would remain unchanged. It is rare to find friendships of that sort. I knew it when she sat amongst her class of friends but still pulled me in their circle and held on to my hand. I would have done the same for her too :') 

In life, we sometimes have to make the wrong choices first, before knowing what the right ones are. With this year being the last year of having to endure school life, I've found my own little circle of people whose names I know that I'll carry with me, carved in my heart, wherever our paths will lead us in this very scary thing called- the future. It's funny how I tend to nickname every one of those people in the name of food,  most of them being fruits in particular :P And thanks to a very loyal Potato who would send almost daily reminders for a weekly update, this blog is still alive and Hae does not feel abandoned so much any more. I like that she's taking up the whole of my Tuesday evenings as well, doing fittier things like hosting our own All England Badminton finals or slow running past houses around a neighbourhood we'll call our "old neighbourhood" someday and swinging swings that'll reach beyond the skies. One day I'll recall these days and add more tears to my sea of nostalgia.

You see... Potato's leaving me next year.

It's hard for me to say it in front of her but even though the time we had together was short, and I may not have known her long enough to be there during the peaks and lows of her life; I want to thank her for our short everyday. So Potato, I want to thank you for every day, down to every missed call which I never answered, or days when you made me do things that I would have never dared to do "cough failed auditions", spicy Pan Mee Fridays and the times when you gave me pillar of strength (although short but it works) to lean on to. I could think of a thousand sorrys to say to you, but I wouldn't because I want to keep on making you feel pissed at me until the day we're say goodbye. You giving me an angry slap to my face is still better than any wet sobby tears.

I always talk about harsh realities and always try to make wistful foresights on what the future will bring and everything but in brutal honesty: I JUST DON'T KNOW. And I am VERY AFRAID of the future because if it's going to involve me having to talk about Bij, Potato and many many more people whom I care about in a past tense, I would rather not live in the chronicles of the future. Yes, I still have those days when I craved the past, and crave it so bad that I could still taste the bittersweetness of what yesterday had left behind. It feels like holding on to dead body of a loved one. You know it's wrong, and would do nothing better for the future but you would do it as a last time thing.

As a Buddhist, I feel like I've failed time and time again because I cling too much and couldn't let go of things. Things of the past in particular. Like the time when I would look back again and again at crowds of strangers trying to make sure that they're okay. The time when I had to give in to the monster in my head. The times when I fail to get the better end of things. Every pointless argument trying to win over nothing. Every lost friend, even those that I still want to keep. And sunken ships of an old love that almost seemed to have drowned too soon...

Gone, going too soon.
I heard it in your voice when your love died...
"Stay just a little"
I love that song from Kina Grannis.

With all the time that's left,
it's time to cherish...
all that's left.
"Sea breeze blows"
Before we reach the harbours.


Sails apart,
CCM.

Light years and Light hearts.

Many light years ago, I, CCM, genuinely believed that the world and universe revolved around me, and hence, all of life's greatest events will eventually fall in place, in co-ordinance with the alignment of the planets in the universe, and everything will always be in my favour. Hae. Forgive me... For being a spoilt brat.

I was a selfish and self-centered little monster; and if it weren't for today's blabbermouthing, chatterbox session with a table full of the women who once witnessed my lifelong habits, I would have forgotten the little faggot whom I used to be.

And true to be honest, I feel glad to be reminded of sillier times and light hearted moments.

I was the 7 year old girl who had to wave goodbye hysterically like a lunatic to my mum every time she drove out for work and if I missed my daily opportunity, I would call her another 4 times to repeat the word GOODBYE over the phone with my mum begging on the other end to hang up. I was the one year old baby who nearly gave my uncle a heart attack in the car because I was afraid of the darkness of the still night; which resulted in him buying a battery functioned lantern just to shut me up. Yes, the ones that played funny folk songs along with it, so it was turned on and off throughout the whole journey because it sounded THAT agitating. I was also the 5 year old who tried to chase a house full of relatives out of my grandparent's house during Chinese New Year because I could not stand the thought of strangers sitting on my favourite swing, and I got a generous red "ang pau"(aka caning) on my buttocks for that, compliments from my beloved grandfather. To top things up, I was the only lucky offspring to have received the "rotan"'s kiss(aka caning) from every adult in my extended family, which means a big deal because that puts me on the top of the naughty naughty list.

Looking back, I was a weird kid. The weird kid who gave everyone headaches and bitterbitter memories, since none of them were considerably sweet. As I write this, the father of one of my childhood friend just walked past me and exclaimed,"Waa it's so late, you're another Lester now, bedtime for him's 3 am," and that was coming from the same uncle who cleaned my runny nose after jumping out of a pool during my of those regular beach trips we would make with his family of two sons then, and looking at him now my thoughts just go into a state of full nostalgia. Sigh, how much he's aged. He used to look so handsome, being at the prime of his late thirties with more hair and shine in his skin. Now, he's older, I'm older, and Lester's probably sixteen and God, I have not seen him in ages. We would all roll in sand, along the shore until we touched the rim of the tiny waves that came up to the shore. Days of island hopping, island after island with seas of greenish blue and sands that felt like powder and being the children we were, we cared about nothing but the fun.

I still do have a recollection of fragmented memories, memories that shrink along as the days go by, pictures in my head that grow blurrer as I grow along with time. Like all of us, I believe that more and more of these jewels will disappear slowly as we try to create more treasures to keep in our jewellery box of life; so that's why it's important to find a way to remember them. Remember that every one of those bitterbitter and sweetsweet moments count. In fact, by experience the more you try to forget something, the more you'll remember it. It's life in paradoxical effect, and we can't deny that, or fall victim to life's greatest suffering- which is life itself.

Life, is FULL of suffering.

I learnt that from 17 years of being a Buddhist. You live, you suffer and you feel happiness. Same goes with emotions. To be able to feel hatred in any way, there must have been love, once. My strongest belief is that the love-hate relationships are the only ones to last forever. There's never full love and full hate for anything or anyone; because when two elements are in play, they need each other to forge the strongest bond or the tie will breakeven (Yes, love The Script).

Love, love, skinny love...
Because it's another one of those sleepless nights, I'll talk bedtime stories.

Being the idealist I was back then, eleven years old and wanting to be queen, I also wanted to be some else's princess. Such years were filled with innocence and naivety, I became prey... to my first puppy love. I called it my first because I started the chase, that stupid gimmick "LOVE AT FIRST SIGHT"... I liked that bastard. I wanted him so bad that I would cuddle up in blankets and hug my baby bolster wondering why he had to be so "good looking" and why can't God just make us cousins so that I didn't have to feel anymore for him than a cousin or nephew or something. Even up until today, I still remember that he sat in front of me, left seat, and how he turned out and sang Love story out to me not knowing how hard my heart beat when he did and how I would walk halfway across the class just to catch his scent. One thing that I couldn't remember was how the chase died. Well, thinking about those years make me smile now.

You think back to yourself going, "Stupid little girl,". That's puppy love for me. It's that phrase of life when you're undergoing a small part of an epidermic change that seemed like a milestone life event and you'll think that you've known nearly everything or maybe EVERYTHING. So that was why I believed that true love is all about feel and emotion, and whatever I saw that made my eye twinkle was all that mattered.

The 17 year old me now would pinch that eleven year old girl's cheeks and go, "You'll see what you'll think about that bastard when you turn seventeen,".

And for the sake of older times, I'll keep my lips sealed about what I think. But if I were to be able to travel in time, I would remind my younger self of my dear cousins words in one of her letters to me, "Unless if you're ready for it, don't,". I have felt deeply, before. But I was never ready, Hae. The one thing that could completely destruct me were my emotions, and time and time again, I was always the prisoner of love.

Trying to break away from its chains,
but we all know
that life's a circle and cycle
of sufferings
bittersweet
heartfelt moments......
And the more you resist,
the more you feel.
Still stuck.

Goodnight Hae,
CCM.

That's the thing about growing up...

It sucks. It's the most important stage of your life.

Because everything that has happened, or is yet to happen at this phrase of life, will eventually define the kind of person we'll turn out to be. Every mistake, fragment of soon to be forgotten memories, even the ones that don't matter much; will come back to haunt us someday. And when that someday comes, we could only wish that we were the same young batch of seventeen year old hopefuls trying to find our rightful places in this world right?

...Right?

... I'm honestly not so sure about that. At the moment, that is.

Hae.

I owe it up to you so much, for I should have written more. For deep down inside, I know that I'm no longer the same girl who wrote that depressing post about my nanny's suicidal attempt three months ago. It's only been less than a hundred days, but it feels like as though I've aged a hundred years. You know it when you look into a mirror.

Mirrors of time.

And feel like you've lost something. What was once a look of timeless innocence, a flower that's never withered once but stayed in its season of full bloom... Gone. There really is no explanation for it, except for the fact that sometimes, we really do lose ourselves in the midst of trying to find ourselves. In this phrase of time, living life in such routine, but the occasional hard bumps and knock downs that REALLY push you out there; to conquer the roughest and deepest waters and give you a chance to resurface...

Only to find that you're still searching.

Alas, forgive me, Hae, for being seventeen. However, I would remember to make a mental note to always and always remember how difficult it is to be seventeen and trying seek solace in this mad, crazy and world of ours. I want to look back and laugh at the tearful wet moments and cry over the moments that I'd swore that I'll never forget. 

Here's an interesting way to see "change": Music.

Hard to believe but inevitably true. Music is like another language, that does all of the talking through songs being sung by voice, maybe even a voice that does not belong to you, but when you replay the song in your head and literally feel in your veins, you feel that connection. Without knowing it, you start singing too. The world's biggest joke will be me rebooting my old phone to find that my 2011 playlist screamed nothing but what's loud and crazy- young renaissance. Don't get me wrong on this... I still have High School Musical tracks in my current playlist and yes, I'm never deleting those tracks. There's nothing so nostalgic as to listening to a song that drowns you into a pool of memories and you smile that silly smile to yourself. Crazy reminiscing. 

New Heights. Kina Grannis. Paradise Fears. The younger Coldplay. The older songs. The six string beauties I have at home.

I say, thank you for the music, the songs that made me sway against the wind instead of being blown away.

It's 12.23 am on my lappy, and it calls for another sleepless night.

However, I promise with all I have in and out and all over me...

Then I'll write about every other sleepless night,
what's...

innermost 

deepest

darkest

sweetest

"sour"iest

lightest

hardest

even the ones that I'd rather forget...

I'll tell all of them to you.

Because sometimes even I tend to forget...

That I made you to serve the very purpose...

Of remembering.

To remember who I am.

Love you,

CCM.

April of Awakening.

I'll speak to you casually, Hae, like how casual friends do.
Because I honestly don't know how else you're gonna digest all that I have to say about April 2014.

You see... 17 years of life experience taught me many things. It's like a flow of past events running down a long funnel, where everything grows along with you as your world expands and you dive in deeper, into the depths of harsh and sweet reality that you never saw coming. Even now, as I think back to the day when it all happened, it's still hard to believe that it really did.

Because when someone dear to you tries to commit suicide and actually tried to... It numbs a person.

What I remembered was a loud voice screaming,"I'll be home," in the hallways outside Aunty Maureen's door and as if we were trying to trap time by the seconds, Daddy and I left as soon as we cleared the counter, with Aunty Maureen hurrying after us to give her last "Goodbye" for it was to be my last time to be seeing her in hopefully a long time. I also remembered how Lyn screamed over the phone, her 12 year old self sounding years younger than she already was, how little her voice echoed through the fear of losing a life; that an ambulance was coming for the first time. Then, Lee's voice came quivering with words like "medicine", "your medicine", "too much" and "Mummy unable to speak" and then came Daddy's voice booming "I'm coming" once more. And I, for once, wished I hadn't had a heart that'll suddenly weigh so much that the thought of wanting to be home never hit me as hard as it did then. Everything felt out of place during then, it suddenly became unfair that cars were blocking our long journey home, it suddenly became unfair that I had to sacrifice making long trips to Cheras just to see Aunty Maureen, it suddenly became unfair that Lyn and Lee had to be in the midst of everything happening at home, and it was unfair, so very wrong for us to have pushed Nanny to her limit, until she gave in and surrendered herself.

I started chanting. Daddy turned off the radio and let me chant out loud, taking in every word. I don't think I've ever been more earnest in my chanting before, for all I could think of was Nanny. After the last of my prayer, I felt one or two tear drops form and clung on to my belt from time to time, pulling tighter as Daddy made cuts, swerves, possible illegal turns and only let go once we reached our gate.

The ambulance arrived just before us; and the doors were already swung open with a stretcher in the kitchen. Then, out came the girls who ran into my arms crying and I stood there, feeling just as vulnerable as they, but I can't show it. Three big-sized grown men carried Nanny's stretcher and for one long moment, I met her eyes but that couldn't be the Nanny who once cried outside my mum's room when Mummy forced me to sleep with her as a baby, for she got jealous of the way I always stop crying whenever Nanny held me in her arms. Her beautiful nut brown face was white for the very first time with her mouth hanging upwards and eyes seemingly looking into a far distance, slowly fading...

My heart really did stop beating. I wanted to run onto the stretcher and join her, but Mummy wanted to escort her so I watch them go. Lyn's face was still buried in my shirt but I couldn't assure that all was well. It was only until we hopped into the car that Daddy assured us,"She'll be fine. She took mostly fever pills and some of the cough tablets, in large amounts but she'll be okay. The big-sized Uncle took her blood and said so," Lyn was so cute though, she still kept on talking about how sorry she was for ever being a bad girl and screaming at Nanny and she swore that she'll never misbehave again. Everyone laughed for the first time.

The next sentimental moment came when we entered the ICU unit with a loud pump making pump sounds in our wake. Only that it wasn't a pump, it was Nanny's squealing. There was a pump, but it was the cause of her pain, trying to suck out everything they could before it digests into her system. It was extremely painful to hear and watch, soon after we were kicked out for being a "disturbance". Finally, I leaned back against the wall of the second hospital of the day, and let it all out. I wasn't one to cry in public, but doing so at the time brought upon closure; the more tears streamed, the better it felt after.

When they were finally done with Nanny, we poured into the ward, surrounding a very very very remorseful Nanny. The Hallmark scene played, but I witnessed all including Daddy, who I've never seen cry before, shed tears for Nanny, with Nanny doing most of the crying herself. She said sorry so many times I lost count, and we lifted her with our love. Forgiveness. Another I love you. And assurance that it's another nightmare that's going to end soon. And then, we got kicked out for being a "disturbance" again.

Over days of slow healing, we learned how to heal a wounded heart and to heal our own wounded hearts ourselves. Regarding why Nanny did what she did, I'll keep that answer sealed inside my heart for her sake; but all I have to say on the behalf of the many many other people who once felt the same way, is that we're only human. And those words go beyond Christina Perri's song, for it's okay to surrender sometimes. Surrender every wish or desire, but never surrender the very gift of life, for every life loss will make a difference, even in the littlest ways possible. Remember that you were once a daughter or son. Maybe you have a daughter or son. Or that childhood friend that thinks of you every time she sees a playground. The one teacher who was once so fond of you that she treated you like her own. The same boy who waited all his life to say hello and more.

An April of Awakening it was for me.
These days, seeing the whole family just being their happy selves bring on a new meaning.
I go to school, and still dread school but
seeing friends, whether if they're angry, frowning or laughing so hard
that they outshine the Sun (Inside Joke ;)
and teachers
as they come in and out of class
Feeling their every emotion...
I feel blessed.
For I feel blessed that emotions are being wasted on
the memorable things worth remembering,
leaving the ones meant to be forgotten, like the nightmare above,
Far, far behind.
Truly out of sight,
Out of mind.
That... is eternal bliss.


Goodbye, April.

Yours,
CCM.

Looking into a mirror.

"Okay, now imagine that I'm a mirror being right in front of you and you're staring into me,"

I raised an eyebrow and gave Aunty Maureen a bemused look in return. This was by far the most "out of the world"ish therapy we had to do yet, and by that I mean after 8 months of having embarked on this "marathon to healing one's self",this particular gesture came out of the blue.

"What? Why..."
"Now speak to me. Speak to your reflection, and say the things that you're good at, your best qualities or anything positive about yourself. Like maybe, 'I'm a kind person', 'I have a friendly personality' or maybe 'I'm beautiful' but bear in mind, it has to come from YOU and not anyone else okay?"

I was struck. It had never occurred to me once that she'll have to go to such measures to make me feel better about myself. Deep down, I'll say that this is more of a depression treatment therapy instead but lately, I can't deny that it is generally getting harder for me to feel like I do have a standing out there, Hae. I mean, seeing everyone around drift further and further away from ground zero and being better and better at what their "destined" to do; they just seemed to be blossoming while I'm stuck between those lines of not knowing what to do with my life, really. So when a milestone question like that being's thrown at me, what am I supposed to say?

I tell people that I never gave it much thought, but the truth was that it's always wandering through the back of my mind. Where will I end up in 10 years time. What will I end up doing? The kind of person I want to be in life. Or as I am, will I ever blossom like everyone else if I can't even muster the confidence to say one good thing about myself?

"I'm not so sure actually..."
"Just be honest with yourself, Car-Men. Say it without any judgement,"

To be dead honest, the word "judge" should never cease to exist in the first place. Then, there won't be any right and wrongs and people will roam around the planet feeling like they're all kings and queens. Yes, Hae. I enjoy those moments where I get to showcase my 'long' standards of immaturity for the sake of harmless fun~

Unfortunately, that will never happen. Modern day society just forbids it. Whether if it's spoken, spoken behind backs or never spoken, the whole world is waiting to judge you.

I don't know what to say for myself really.

It's been a rough time for me these few weeks. Those hard blows keep on coming to knock me down and some of them still hit me hard in the chest whenever I think about them today.

"You make no sense,"
"I see you being the Head of Nurses in a hospital someday,"
"You still make no sense,"
"Lawyer? Lawyer buruk?"
"Car-Men makes no sense,"
"I see you being a kindergarten teacher,"

Degrading isn't the word. Or maybe it is. I felt like the world suddenly became a smaller and bigger place at the same time. It shrank because I suddenly felt like as if the 57,308,738 Sq. Miles (148,429,000 Sq. Km) that cover the surface of planet Earth won't be enough to contain the exploding lava that's due to shoot out from Car-Men's volcano of outraged emotions anytime. Deep down, I know that I made sacrifices that meant saying goodbye to a school of teachers and friends that mean a whole other world to me just to stand a chance to receive better education at a strange new institution where I'll have to start learning EVERYTHING from ground zero again. And I know that I managed to make the cut because I was worth that sacrifice. 

I will make a stand and prove the odds wrong. 
You wait and see.
Here's what happened next in the mirror, Hae.

It took me a huge breath and a leapt of courage to say..

"I think that I'm good at writing,"
Aunty Maureen smiled. And pointed out that that was the first smile coming from me that morning too.
"Why do you think so?"
Smiling at the time felt great. It was like a rush of sudden positive energy flowing through my veins and my heart felt light enough to muster a laugh.
"Writing's the way I express myself best. I feel like it is something that I'll leave in my jewelry box of life and make sure it stays there until the day I die regardless of how people judge the way I write. It is the strongest and most powerful voice I have woven inside of me,"

I can't remember if I said anything else, Hae. But here's another thing I've learnt about life in all 17 years of living. If need be, praise yourself. Even if the whole world disapproves and makes every positive emotion in you flow down the drain, to every living monster out there, you ARE worth it. Everyone deserves a little time to feel self absorbed once in a while, even if it'll hurt to find out that your jewelry box is really empty, just smile at it to feel grateful that you at least still do have a box to call your own.

Your own box of life.

Hae, it is admittedly getting harder for me to feel good these days.
Even if I try to make it sound heroic,
there is no joy in seeing everyone spring forward first,
leaving you standing behind thinking...
What do I do now?

My thoughts for now, are wiser spent grieving along with the entire nation.
Deepest condolences go out to the family and friends of the passengers onboard MH370.
And to CHS for their loss of a prefect, he was only 17.
It's getting harder to walk about with a peace of mind too.

Peace out,
CCM.

I'm here to let go of things.

There's been a lot happening lately... No, that's not it. They're one of those little little bothersome stuff that might mean no sense to everyone else but it makes a big big impact on how you think about yourself.
I hate to say it but today's the day when I demonstrate why people can't stand reading a teenager's diary. Hae, my one and only beloved diary-like friend, I'll admit that the purpose of your creation was to serve this purpose. So like it or not, you'll have to bear with me. I'll take it as you've agreed to our terms and conditions here.

So first off, I think I'm having trouble being honest with myself.
And to be honest, I feel like I'm never good enough. Being the world's most indecisive person doesn't help either because to begin with, I do not know what I want to be good at as well. I know that I want to be someone's good friend. I also want to make sure my old friends won't forget me for who I used to be. Maybe I have a tinge of regret whenever I think of the "him" that could have been my other half but always end up wondering how that "No" came about and ruined all hopes of us being "you and me". Maybe I do have strong feelings for someone now but I'm dying not to take the next step. Then questions that prompts me to make every final decision will always be the standard:

WILL YOU REGRET MORE TAKING UP A CHANCE OR BACKING AWAY?

And Car-Men's standard answer will forever be the latter. I mean why risk all those emotions on what could be a mere disappointment in the end? But we were taught to be optimistic in life so recently I did things the other way round and guess what? I still regret. Okay to put it in layman terms...

I HAD A SERIES OF EMBARRASSING EVENTS happening lately >.<

Oh and second off, let me introduce a new name to you, Hae, Agent Mash Potato. She lives roughly 9 stone throws away from my yellow hole and I am proud to say that we inspired Potato to write to her own non-existent beloved, Kevin~ I would promote them to the whole world if I could but having a victim who lives just 9 stone throws away can put me in a really dangerous position too. Pfft, forget it. Anyway, it was thanks to her that I managed to get over Embarrassing event No.1 so I'll continue to express my love for her by telling you that she is special for many reasons. For one, she goes for a heart transplant every month but hates it whenever I keep her homework for her but doesn't react to other people doing it~ For another, she has a normal obsession for good looking boys and and strange one for the weirdest shit out there that only the highest of the most brilliant class of brains can ever think of wanting to do, like Escape Room Puzzles and The Tower of Hanoi (Yeah I can imagine you trying to Google that, Hae). And she has a beautiful but mischievous sister too, who screams words of what's related to "Free" that'll annoy the hell outta me whenever I walk pass her in school. She brought Paradise Fears, lots of unnecessary slapping and Fluffy into my life, and so yeah, I just hope that wherever you are in the near future you will at least think of me every once in a while whenever you eat your banana split.

Okay, now back to the main topic.

I'll shorten things because talking about my potato friend made me feel a lot better so urm... Basically I went for a singing audition with Cheese and a Big Tomato and well, regretted it more in the end. Potato did better, but chances are our only hopes of joining would be if the whole school had a case of Monkey Pox and that only people who are half-mutated with Fruit, Vegetable or Dairy Product genes were the last ones standing so pretty much I felt darn horrible about it afterwards. There is always a consolation to every regretful thing though, that I can proudly tell my grandchildren that your grandma dared to face the world and make a difference and that SHE HAD NO SHAME IN DOING SO.

Embarrassing event No.2 happened less than 5 hours ago when I felt really sad walking out of the music room at my regular temple feeling like the word ego never once existed. I mean, you won't expect to feel good about yourself once your dear mother bursts into a room full of other enthusiastic potential young leaders all gathered for a camp meeting and there she goes, howling like the wind across the seven seas because she had to release her anger at you for being a 15 minutes late and not answering your phone. I am main at fault but this is when I ponder about what have I ever done wrong in 17 years of my life to have acquired such karma...
The wrong thing about embarrassing events is that somewhat, somehow, they will always be thrown back at you and the fact that you actually did have something to do with that embarrassing thing will shatter you dignity to pieces like urgh... How I feel about myself now. Worse thing is...
I REGRET THEM SO MUCH.
Back to the stage where you'll go playing around with words like,
"I should have, could have, SHOULDN'T HAD..."
But meh. It's too little too late.
Oh about those little mentions of "hims" up there?
The last thing I feel like at the moment is romantic.
And maybe next time I'll disappoint you more, Hae.
Fair enough I think my sweet Hae had enough for one day.
Thank you for you, Hae. <3

Yes, Daddy did a great job capturing the beauty of nature and the value of gaining "free happiness" from what you see. So treasure those little things before they melt away~
(Taken in a busy city and the soul of Asia, Seoul. Pretty huh? If you have the money, fly there for a bowl of kimchi while you're at it and if you don't, have no fear. There's still the Korean drama websites "cough cough" free happiness.)

Lots of love and tears,
CCM.

Three months later...

Merry Christmas, Hae. Happy New Year Hae. Happy Chinese New Year, Hae. And oh, did I mention that I spent 11 days thinking about what I could have said to you 11 days ago on Valentines?

So much for commitment...

Honestly speaking, a lot has happened since my last post about meeting Sari and that Goddamn beautiful chicken of my creation. Yes, I survived what was supposed to be an all memorable family trip to Taiwan where the antagonist turned out to be one of the more peaceful ones throughout our entire journey. Uncle H, you surely did surprise me, you managed to keep out of everyone else's way after all. I credit the good food for it though. Otherwise, and I swear by it, drama would have been GUARANTEED. 

However, let's not remember Taiwan like that. I shall not rip off travel books by saying that it is one of the true gems of Asia; but for a country where the young are vibrant and the old, gracefully ageing and all living harmoniously in the same place, it is for a fact- a gem, and a beautiful sight to behold. Night markets come to life in the brightest of lights that emerge from the many many stands, sometimes accompanied by odours of all sorts (Including the all classic for a Chinee tongue, SMELLY TOFU), or if not, gift shops with huge and i mean freaking HUGE. YELLOW. DUCKS. It seems to be a Taiwanese craze, and having said that, it is virtually possible to find a duck version of ANYTHING there. Socks, umbrellas, hairbands, lighters, boxers, underwear... You get the main idea. I wonder if Mama found it amusing too ^^ Mama, I have no regrets bringing you along for Taiwan 2013. You gave me a chance to be a better granddaughter, and look like a teen with more heart or otherwise, I would have just been some average teenage thug with a face bombarded with Hiroshima bomb like pimples, scowling behind the back of Uncle H. 

Flash forward...

New Year's Eve party. Okay, there was a mistletoe but no kissing. Unless if you would include me and my sister's epic-failed skit of Romeo and Juliet. It would have been a real happy occasion if well for starters, Little Nick had acted better than his 7 year old self (But then again, his charming 7 year old self gets into me every time) or if a friend didn't have give it the ambience of a farewell party as well. And because I'm so obsessed with nicknames, I'm calling you Sungha Jung because I'm secretly jealous of your musical talent. It was a day of gain and loss, to have tied loose ends and finally let go of a friendship that's always been there, although not always but it is that familiar feeling you get every time you grab hold of that string, when memories of what seems like long time back, what's not so memorable and what's not to be forgotten flows back to you and you feel a sudden urge to never let go of that string at all. It took me a stiff hug and a few pictures and many many yells of "Goodbye" and "Take care over there" to loosen my grip on that string. I thank the heavens above for hiding my tears that day, I mean, night. It has always been a nature for me to cry over someone saying goodbye, according to mum, regardless if it's a long term or short term goodbye.

So this is where I'll hide my tears Hae, in your arms. Goodbye Sungha, don't ever take off that 6-string on your back yeah? :')

Then... I guess that'll make it 2014.

I would go on... 

But that'll break the emotional flow here.

I'm not really one to say in Malaysian terms,

POTONG STEAM.

No, I'll stop here.

Because sometimes,

"You only know you're high when you're feeling low"

You'll need to be honest with yourself.

"Only hate the road when you're missing home"

And do not simply let go of what you once loved so much.

"Only know you love her when you let her go"

We, always seem to forget...

And regret forgetting.

Regrettably yours,

CCM.