430 days. 

I kept counting. 

My fingers flicking open in order and hands always switching. Bent, crooked and flexed. New lines have formed on my palms. My fingers are no exception. I am slowly ageing without careful observation. My hands are still soft. 

My hands have always been one of the parts of my body I love. Very dainty, with clear lines and structure. Soft in texture but tough enough to fight. 

Anyway, I kept counting. 

I would deduct the dates and add the hours. Announcing it to him before smiling to myself. Encouragement is essential, and it would show him that I appreciate his effort. I really do. 

Going clean is just so difficult when it is a habit lasting for years. 

Any habit is hard to break. Even a person’s will might be weaker than the reliance on habit. 

430 days. 

The last number counted to, on 25th August 2016. And somehow I just stopped. The number still lying somewhere among the rest of my disorganised notes. Funny how I stopped then. 

I remember planning something. When it hits a bigger number. Maybe 500? But when is someone ever truly clean though? 

So naïve, I am. So misunderstood about cructhes, vices and addiction. 

Now I know that too much faith can break you. Especially when it is outside of your control. Especially when your own hands cannot tell the future that is someone else. 

But I knew. I remember asking questions every time I saw a cigarette in photographs, moments digitally recorded or a pack lying on the table. 

Perhaps my gut knew, and I chose to turn my observations to something else. Like the new scars on my right hand, from the dog bites. 

430 days of being in a grey area unknowingly. Neither here nor there. A space of unknowing and false comfort. 

How strange to look back at this now. Am I really out of this space now, even in my head? Or do I never really get to leave? 

Relative blindness. 

Untitled #47. 

I scare myself when I am reminded of how human I am. 

In the ways of piercing words and the urge to cut open to this skin. 

To bleed in more ways than one. 

How my mood can be ruined when one thing goes wrong. When a disturbance happens, and the undercurrents come rushing to the surface. 

Flushed skin and crazed eyes. 

Never calm inside. Never. 

How does it feel to be a genuinely happy person? 

Change. 


Shaved on 2nd August, then again (self-done with my mother’s help) on 3rd August 2017. 

I didn’t have to shave off all my hair so quick, so soon. I had a couple of weeks to go and considering I have never ever shaved my head before (besides as a baby), it isn’t a decision I should rashly make. 

But I felt like if I delayed it any further, I might hurt myself. The impulse to do something is so strong. There are days I go avoiding the mirrors, windows and going into the kitchen. 

I’d lay in bed and try my hardest to just sleep. 

So I did it. 

I shaved all my hair off. 

An aspect so familiar to me, for all of my growing life. An aspect I manipulate and use however I like. An aspect I let loose when I want to hide or pretend to be someone else. 

And I have never felt so free. 

I am happy I did it. x

Numerals. 

Numbers that never go beyond 

A certain amount 

Unpredictable fluctuations 

But predictable depletions 

Never rising yet 

Always have enough to keep on falling 

I am starting to develop a fear of checking my account balance, just like how I instinctively avoid the mirror as well as weighing scale. 

Random thought: if a disaster happened, money wouldn’t matter because it will all burn away and no longer becomes a status, but a consequence. 

So why am I so hard up about it now? 

Dollars and cents shouldn’t define us. 

But it shapes my lifestyle. 

That’s fact. 

23 years.


(I sit in my little comfortable corner, right at the back of the car playing club music and am typing this while waiting to cross the causeway back home.) 

I cannot believe I am still alive at the age of 23. Somehow along the way, the little things started to add up and convince me that I might have gave up on life before this. Yet here I am, still alive in the very basic sense of existence. 

So maybe things aren’t all that bad. At least I hope that life will start looking up by now, and I can stop imploding. 

Stop killing myself slowly by sleeplessness and poor appetite and whatever I have done. 

(Isn’t it funny that people never take your word for it, and then they wonder why people cut, bleed and self-harm? It is for control. It is for proof. It is for you to believe what they have been saying all along.) 

Horrid things have been happening, and keeps adding to the weight my shoulders bear this year. If you are a close friend of mine, perhaps you already know all there is to it. There’s no need to air it here. 

So with this, as the Moon guides my way home and cheerful “I feel like a millionaire” lyrics start filling up this car, I shall will myself to write about the good things this year. 

1. I am still in school, and I finished two shows so far. The first one being such an honour to work with a gentle and nurturing teacher. The second one being an act of pure brazenness and I am proud that I did it. Everything I set out to do. 

2. Instead of leaving, I chose to stay and work on the relationship I am in. Leaving has always been so easy for me, with so many examples presented in my life, but I am happy so far that I held on. That I recognise how vulnerable love can be, and should be. And I put my money where my mouth is. 

3. A small one, but I have a page featured in this up-coming literary book that half the word is featured in anyway. But I’d like to think it is a victory for me to keep working towards my writing. 

4. I haven’t jumped off a building, even though it hovers at the back of my mind so casually. 

5. Writing letters to the people I love, and care about. That I kept to this tradition I have built for myself, and to force myself into the perspective of always appreciating no matter how much or little I have. 

6. My friends are all so far away geographically and sometimes schedule-wise. But always always always so near to my heart and being so loving all the time. As long as I reach out, their hands are always there to lend me strength. 

7. Slowly working on new things, starting up creative ideas and flowing with them. 

8. Cleared my things and kept only what’s important. Physical decluttering that I have wanted to do for so long, and finally managed to let go of certain sentimentalities that no longer mean anything. 

9. Trying my best to cope with life, even though I am doing a lousy job, but the trying part is kind of a good effort la.  

10. Not killing this blog. Yet. I kind of wanted to let this go, but now I really use this more for myself than just posting random writes I have. And it helps. And I found enjoyment in it, so I guess this is good. 

If any of you can think of any good things I should remember, please share with me too. Because nothing actually comes to me at the top of my head at the moment. 

But I think these ten are little red flags marking the various months. In some ways, I think I did quite well for someone that feels so much darkness. 

Thank you for all your patience, kindness, love and if you understood just a fragment of what I am going through, thank you. It means a lot to me. 

A lot of love to all of you. Sincerely. 

I will work towards happiness. I will try my best. 

Happy 23rd Birthday to me. xx