Valentine's

"I cannot behold you without emotion; my heart still answers to your voice, my blood in my veins to your footsteps."

I love how love letters were written in the past, where people conveyed their emotions with just pen and paper, in the most primitive fashion. So few words, yet with so much feelings. Diction that's so powerfully strong it reaches the depths of hearts.

I've always loved pouring out my musings on paper but I really wished I could write like that. So personal and delicate. I need to stop and listen more quietly. And forget the world that I'm in.

Almost clear

Recently I've been thinking a lot about the notion of love. Everybody interprets it differently. And I think I'm getting my answer soon. Blurred images of how love looks like are gradually becoming more vivid. Took me years. I'd soon come to realise what exactly love is in my mind and heart. And I'm most honest when I say I'm really writing these thoughts down because I want to face myself clearly. Unafraid, to reveal that a part of me may indeed be vulnerable.

Notes of the past

I was reading my previous blog -- well yes previous blog that had a blogskin and tagboard and which I left off about 2 years ago?-- and I feel that people should never delete blogs they have started even if they decide to abandon them because they bring back so much flashbacks. I used to blog in a more casual manner with random insertion of hysteria that revolves around school, friends and God. Comparing myself now with that of the past, I must say I have indeed grown so much more in my thoughts. Deeper, more sensitive. And I like it that God's such a big part of my life I blog with Him written either explicitly or in between the lines in my posts.
People do change but some things always stay the same - The immense amount of words on both blogs remind me that I have always loved writing. I wonder if anybody could ever understand this quiet passion of mine.

Hello 2010

Photos always remind you of the past because that's when the fun in that instant is captured to remind us years down the road why we shouldn't stop taking them.

I was just looking through the tons of albums we have on Facebook and I really miss you all 5 babies.

>:(

Euphoria

2 facts about me that most wouldn't know:

1. Yellow is my favourite colour.

2. I love Hello Kitty.

So, look what I received in one package for christmas!

Apparently the bottle is of limited edition and costs over fifty bucks.

It's Hello Kitty and it's Yellow (!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!)

Am feeling very ecstatic ^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

Christmas

It's been a while since I've spent time alone like this. I enjoy every bit of solitude because it provides silence for my thoughts to run. I'm getting a lot of DejaVu nowadays and I still can't decide if I like it. Something happens, and I start to see similar images in my head. Vague ones. I try to focus so I can get a clearer sense but they flicker and leave too quickly every time I do it. So I give up. It's way too exhausting having to chase after several images that may merely be figments of my imagination. But they inspire me to write because I'd like to think of them as subtle and delicate. So there, clarity may not be well-received by me all the time. Maybe it is through picking up scattered pieces everywhere that makes everything so much clearer for ourselves. Because such little occasions reveal part of the truth, one by one. And till today, I'm still collecting them. It feels like it never ends because when I think it has I'm always thrown off guard when a new one springs up and fits in so appropriately. I've always missed you and I guess it's the most during christmastime. Shimmering lights that dazzle and confuse me at the same time. They fade in, fade out. Almost hesitant, but keeping up with the beat of my heart. Your favourite tracks and I sing along. Reminds me of your voice which I haven't heard since you left. Every bit of christmas is like a trigger that tugs at my memory. I close my eyes and I see myself sitting under the tree eagerly looking for my name on the glitzy labels. Then I give you a hand with your gifts because you always have difficulty with unwrapping. Then to the one flashback I always have - your favourite question when the bottom of the tree is filled with all the shiny paper and ribbons.

"Do you know who the gifts are from?"

"Er, you, mom ---"

"Wrong. They're all from Jesus."

And I always got befuddled because obviously Jesus didn't buy them. But years have passed and helped me to see beyond what I could only think of as a child. Indeed, every gift, material or non-material, is from Him. He who does not change like shifting shadows. And you're one of the best. You must be having a great time with Jesus. Christmas reminds me of real joy. Real eternal gifts. Real spirit of giving. So this is really what it means to me, and I thank God for feeling this way because I know it's real and it can never be taken away.

Camp

A big blast, I'd say. I was never a fan of camps but this made things a little different. So I'm writing before I forget.
Majority of my memory lies in the busyness of it all. People passing by repeatedly. Swarms gathering, swarms dispersing. Words spoken hurriedly, cacophonies of voices and running footsteps. A request for help through an electronic device and the next second, a man scoots out of the door. A busy morning, then afternoon. All soaked and sticky. But you can't fall. Like an endurance race. Closure for the day and the corridors are silent. Bunks devoid of noise. Phone screen flickers occasionally to tell the time. A new day arrives, and it's the rush again. Greetings, invigorated expressions everywhere. A gentle breeze wafts through my hair, and I thank God. Everything reminds me of His unfailing love. Quiet, subtle, but with such great force. Across the days, rapport builds, people grow. Fruits of seeds sown many months ago. Contacts and messages exchanged. I feel a surge in adrenalin and my hand flies to my heart, which God has just touched when a boy expresses his gratitude. When another young man remarks, 'No regrets'. And I know, this has to be God. Nothing could be so perfect. All the little pieces over the months-fell into place so flawlessly. All the intricacies become intertwined so seamlessly. I marvel. I thank Him. Everything feels right, feels so good. And I know, it's His love. I'm so thankful for that decision made before anything was even planned out. Because He has brought me to and through an experience that will always remind me of His love, His grace and His providence. He has made it all so perfect. Thank you God for your kindness, and your love.

Tendencies

I drew a stickman. Accidentally gave it hands too long. I frowned at the deformed shape of its body. Quickly turned into a genius and drew more stickmen around. When I ran out of white space to sketch the head, the entire paper was littered with stickmen. All the same. Lifted the marker off the sheet and bit my lip. Eyes furiously scanning...........Futile search for the one I first drew. Held the paper up and scrutinized each man, one by one. My eyes grew tired and I gave up. Maybe there wasn't any in the first place. But I couldn't be mistaken. Then I knew. A matter of perception. When it's alone and presented singly, it screams the difference. It looks wrong. While in company, it starts to seem ordinary. With every increase, the difference shrinks. Boundary blurs. Clarity, previously indicated by red, is now replaced by a faded, washed out bluish-grey. That represents insignificance. Then disarray. When we allow ourselves to be deceived by the false callings of our hearts that in truth, originate from what we hear and form in our heads. That's how we lose ourselves.

Solitude

I tilt my head slightly. Propped against the wall. The wind chills the unshielded pallor of my face. I instinctively place a palm down on the cheek. While I allow my eyelids get a tad heavier. Until they fall..and shut. And I’m gently lulled to sleep. Sometimes I wish things just stop here. Where I’m all alone with nobody else. Where the only sound I hear comes from the iPod. Where I chase after my every thought to put it down on paper. Because this is when my heart becomes the loudest. Its every jolt, trip, plummet – amplified. It’s where the centre of my life lies. Where the only one I want to please in this world is. I wonder if people ever listen to their hearts anymore. Sometimes when it’s mind over matter, things lose control. But the heart never fails to find its way.

^^

"For am I now seeking the favour of men, or of God? Or am I striving to please men? For if I were still pleasing men, I wouldn't be a servant of Christ."
Galatians 1:10

And God never fails to remind me. Everytime I feel like I'm gonna break, He's here to prevent me from falling.
It's amazing how beneath all this tension and angst, I am able to feel at peace. Quiet, still. Slightly resigned but at ease.
So I think I'm able to put up with anything.

What the world will never take

"You are the best thing that has happened to me,

And the world will never take it away."

Past

A walk past the trees in the backyard, out of the familiar gate we used so often. The air smells of fresh apples and cinnamon, so sweet I couldn't help taking a few more breaths. Steps ahead of the mud wall, a figure shifts herself with difficulty and finally staggers out of the cab. In her late sixties, I thought. Her face was gaunt, sunken with creases at her chin and at the side of her eyes, so intricately connected as if they were scripted right there from the start. A wave of nostalgia hits me unannounced and I shift my previously static gaze to the tree that towered above the flats. Sunlight flickers through the leaves and warms my cheeks. I move a few steps forward, onto the sidewalk. The road has become unusually quiet. The old lady has gone. I am left on my own. I look up into the horizon and somewhere among the tinge of blue, I caught a glimmer of your presence.

Passion

A flashback. Two years ago. I recall the first time when I read that poem. The theme was love-hate. I couldn't interpret it. Because I never imagined one could love and hate someone at the same time. I used to think love always exists by itself. Without any speckles of impurities. But that moment changed my entire mindset and made me ponder for a while. A long while. Love, does come in many forms. Sometimes more than you could imagine. Mostly a combination of emotions.
My emotions are easily affected by the poems I read and feel deeply for. I was just wondering, maybe I'm contented with dying while I pen down the last word of my life. I never want to stop writing.

NCU!

Chinese lessons are our favourite because we don't attend any.

:)

Twilight

The usual brown scrunchie in her hair, a dingy little bag slung at her front. Black diminutive sneakers that she wears. I see her every morning, wonder if she realises that. She takes a few steps forward, and the doors slide open. Habits are hard to change, aren't they? I take the same spot every morning. She too. She leans her head against the glass, and I do the same. Across me, a mirror image. I'm falling fast asleep, the music in my ipod segueing from rock to slow, the train swaying lightly as though it has no wheels beneath. Occasional rocking back and forth, like a merciful lullaby. I look at the row of seats a few metres away. Fully occupied. Shoulder to shoulder. All eyes closed. Oblivious to the distracting blare coming from those speakers. It makes me sad to see the world so tired. World including myself. Because we know ultimately all that we have on Earth, we can't take them to our graves. If I were one of those naive girls who believed in magic, I'd wish for the world to remain in dark forever. That way, we never have to wake up. That way, the resigned expressions on our faces will never be exchanged. That way, there will be no reflection to see ours for ourselves.

Last laugh

Dear Physics,

I'm truly surprised you chose to be my foe this time. Does my love for Lit intimidate you? Are you so desperate for my attention that you took a deep plunge this time round? Frankly, I find it disturbing because there is no way you can thwart my passion. Try as you might, Lit will never be replaced. Not by you, you desperado. You're inciting regretful thoughts in me but you can't stay this way for long. I've decided to befriend you and maybe look at you with minimal affection, does this satisfy you now? You're looking like a loser, it puts you to shame. Maybe you'll plead for my forgiveness. Maybe you'll continue harbouring your evil intentions. Whatever the case, you're nowhere near Lit. I may include you in my daily schedules but between us there will never be love. Only responsibility. For the choice I made. Look, you have now won my time, not me, over. How pathetic is this?
You have made a great mistake- you belittled love.

I'm giving you a chance to repent, because Shakespeare once wrote "Kill me with spites, yet we must not be foes."
I don't have to spell it out for you; What I just said above, that's Lit.

And what have I just done? I've personified you. What's that again?
Clearly, it shows my love has gone through the depths which you can only dream of reaching.

Through

I’m seated right at the front. Resting my chin on the bottle. Eyelids are weighing down. Limbs are almost motionless. Except for my right hand, because it’s the only thing that’s keeping me awake. I stare down at my paper. Red ink scrawled all over. While the lady before me speaks, I sense a veneer of hypocrisy. Not her, of course. How can she be blamed? It’s the way society functions. With the perpetuator invisible. While everyone runs this rat race. Aimlessly. Got me wondering, why do people bother running when they have absolutely no idea where they’ll reach ultimately? But this point is moot. Maybe in life, there is no answer because we are all brought up this way, accustomed to competing albeit we have no idea why. Maybe we have to search for the answer, but ultimately, what does it matter? Do we have a choice, even? To disqualify ourselves? Many have sought but never found. But truth is, I don’t think I’ll ever need any answer. Because He has found me. His grace alone, suffices. Life is just so overrated sometimes.

Round trip

Head against the glass pane, staring out at the chilly scene. The wind is howling. People are whipping out umbrellas, dashing to that busstop. The busstop where I've been to countless times last year. I adjust my heavy head a little and my gaze shoots straight to that building. Hasn't changed much, has it? I haven't forgotten how much it wrecked my heart every time I walked out of it, how I fought to quell those tears that just wouldn't go away, how the humid air choked my throat. I remember the night when I tucked you in bed while I sang Jesus loves me with the kids. You were falling fast asleep........that looked so peaceful. I really wished time stopped there. On the night when I walked out of the hospital for the last time, I finally let go of those selfish thoughts. I knew you'd have it so much better in heaven. I cried the hardest in my entire life. It's been a year since.....How have you been? Maybe you're reading this with Jesus now. Just wanted to let you know, I miss you and definitely love you still, every day. One year has passed. Means a step closer to heaven, a step closer to you. Thank God there's Him, or I would never know how to face this. You've always been in my thoughts, dearest grandmom.

Identity

I encountered a rush of familiarity during GP class. Something warm, something that made my adrenalin sprint. Prejudice. Social divides. Like literature class. My thoughts wouldn't stop returning. Surface, superficiality. Women in Maycomb. Society. I picked up my pen and it went from there. Took me a while to realise Prejudice has been one of those topics I favoured. Sensitive issues, what people often tend to avoid and turn a blind eye to. But knowing well it doesn't drive them away. Tackling them has always been a favourite - the memory remains vivid. Because it reminds me of where I stand. I'm clear. And it's calling for me to face it - my passion has never waned. Maybe a second chance will make a difference. Guess I'll never know, because I never dwell on 'What-ifs'. And recalling the decision was not made without prayer, I feel safe. Perhaps I never liked taking my passion to be the ordinary. Because it’s my own keep, it belongs to myself and it should never be examined. Subjected to the judgment of others who may not even share my thoughts. Had I left it this way, passion wouldn’t remain pure then, would it? I’m clearer. No regrets, because I am my passion’s keeper.

WWID w/o you?

My every move, every thought. Every trigger, every slightest judgment that goes on inside. When my heart plummets, when my jaws clench. When I feel like every ounce of my strength is battered, when every breath feels like the last, you know them. You see me right through my emotions, it's as if you were me. You know me, way more than myself. Distractions, disorientation. I lose focus and forget that even so you'd know. It's amazing when I look away from everything else and turn my eyes entirely, solely, onto you. Because you always make things fall in place. No one.. could ever make me feel so safe. That's when I know you're God. I know you're spurring me on whenever I feel like I'm losing it. Whenever I try to rely on myself. My weak self. I know I can't. The cheesy line goes, my life would suck without you. But you're different. Without you, my life wouldn't just suck. It'd be over. Way, way over.
That's why I'd have it no other way.

It's such a bliss to have you in my life.