Notes from 2015, Art Science Museum. 

(This has been sitting in my phone for the longest time, because they are just facts. I took them down when I visited the Art Science Museum for the Deep Sea exhibition. I loved it so much that after attending the press conference, I went back. Here’s what fascinated me the most.) 

Blue is the colour that travels furthest in water. 

Soundtrack at art installation – from space, NASA. Similar to underwater? There are a lot to discover. 

Red is the first colour to disappear in water. 

Deep sea corals can live 3000 years down. 

Record: animal/living organism – 4200 years. Deep sea corals. 

Sea mounts – deeply affected by industrial fishing. 

Having whole new way to develop life – Toxic Oases. The sun can disappear and it can all be dark but there will still be life. Extremophiles. 

Heritage of the sea – wiping out years of ecosystems in a second. 

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29th May. 

I have this bad habit of leaving my thoughts all fragmented and broken on the notes app on my phone. 

Unformed and left unprocessed. 

I leave them in these half-baked states, and let myself discover them months later. Only to feel puzzled, lost and wondering what exactly made me think of those things on that particular day. 

This post is again, one of those “let’s get this on the Internet and clear up the phone” kind of thing. 

I recall crying and sitting in a corner not talking to anyone. I had work to do, and did do the work in the end since it was a responsibility. I was in the shadows, everyone left me alone and I sat there being more alive internally than externally. 

I was sitting in the silence with my skin on fire. 

I am crying for no reason. Maybe it is the darkness wringing me on the inside. Stagnant water coming free. 
How can I not know the emotions that belong to me, or do I belong to them?
Running away from myself.
And the romance keeps killing itself. Again. 

Ruins of 2015. 

Familiar skins pry themselves away And now the distance between us 

Are light years and moons apart 

– 

“I think we are better off friends.” 

No longer is the longing of tongue on tongue 

And Palm to palm appealing 

Our lips – do I still remember how they feel like – only for forming words and completing our expressionless faces 

Our eyes look but never meeting 

Feet on the same ground but heads in different skies 

– 

Your fingers and mine have gaps between them 

Grasping air, not flesh, now seems new

Now we have all the space to stay in silence 

Holding on to everything and nothing 

In a single breath

Mild Breakdown. 

First, the eyes start to sting. 

Then your nose feels tight at the bridge and it gets harder to breathe. 

You lick your lips a couple of times, but it keeps getting a bit too dry. 

Your head starts to hurt a little bit and the ears start to burn up. 

(Not again.)

Subconsciously pick at the dead skin of your young fingers. 

Pop the tiny pimples on your cheeks and aggressively get rid of the lost tears. 

Your mind spaces out or gets crammed up with too many thoughts all at once, and the heart just cracks. 

A centimetre at a time. 

(It’s just a phase. It’ll pass.)

A centimetre.