How Am I Today? 

That is a question I seldom ask myself. 

I used to, probably. Once upon a time. When I probably still cared for myself a little bit more than now. It is not that I do not love myself anymore. That’s not the problem. Everyone has good days, and bad, so sometimes you feel amazing about yourself. Other days, you just want to lie in bed all day and wonder what exactly are you doing with your life. 

Today, is one of those miserable days. Dime a dozen, for me. Stress, tiredness chews at my soul, then proceeds to spit me out every now and again. Bouts of non-clinical depression and severe sadness born out of nowhere but the core of my being. 

Maybe I simply woke up on the wrong side of the bed today, but my heart feels empty. My mind is a routine of fixed rhythms that no longer breathes. My lungs merely a function, as with my life at this point. My eyes go through the low and high tides of emotions. 

Can you believe that I can read a single unexpected message the moment I wake up, burst into tears almost immediately and not want to leave bed? 

It is ridiculous. I wonder why I behave the way I do, or why I feel things so deeply to a point of being close to crazy. 

I am probably not dead yet since my optimism kicks in after my days of hitting rock bottom. Yes, my resilience and tenacity are really something, sometimes. 

But, yes. How am I today? 

Not good at all. 

Too many naggy voices in my head. Too many worries and stress clouding my min. Too many people coming and going. Too many, too many, too many. 

But life goes on. 

(School starts in less than a week. What am I to do then? Hahaha. Life’s a messed up joke, and my sense of humour is dead.)



You are a Helvetica 

With the blood of Times New Roman 

Neutral face with a sharp tongue 

Licking wounds under paper skin 

Dog-eared and coffee stained 

Femininity lost in 

Subtle serifs 

Laced between contradictions and clarity 

Seeking softness only in meanings 

Two faced and shameless

No longer hiding

Just brutally honest 

Typewritten in ink for permanence 

For remembrance 

Afraid of commitment in a book that rewrites 

History in fonts ever-changing 

Burning bridges and striking words off 

Smudging lines by typing over them 

Again and again 

Move on 

The world is starting on a fresh page 

You were a Helvetica 

With the blood of Times New Roman 

(Where’s your tribe? Who are you?) 

Reduced to words on burning paper 

Ashes scattered at sea 

Sunk and swallowed 

Just A Body. 

(Fair share of body woes. Never satisfied and you just keep going at it, even if it kills you inside. Because out of sight, out of mind, and here we go all over again.) 

The body is always subjected to 


And it is almost as if 

I live in a borrowed shell 

Belonging to anybody else but 


Always too fat too skinny too tall too short too tan too fair too ripped too whole too old too young 

To care about health 

So an apple a day 

Keeps the critics at bay 
But what do I do about the colour I was given 
Bleached hair bleached skin bleached eyes 


To fit 


“life is so much more beautiful and complex than a number on a scale” 
This empowerment 

New-age of enlightenment 

Hopeful wonderment 
“nothing tastes as good as skinny feels”  
This perpetuation 

Reinforcing perfection 


A body





Flesh and blood. 

Is that not enough?