2017 to 2018.

Shot by Darren.

Time is simply arbitrary, and now the change in years no longer mean much. Counting down for the six minutes of fireworks and a momentary pause before starting everything all over again. And waiting for the following year to end.

2017 was turbulent and full of conflict. In the world, around me and within myself. A lot of the times, leaving seemed the better option. Sometimes those hands that only reach out to you when you are just about to take your last breath just isn’t enough. It’s about accumulation, breaking points and if whether I can still justify all my efforts and love or not.

If I can no longer justify all the hurt, the worth and the days, then what for?

This, is still something I will need time to struggle and make peace with going into 2018.

My parents are still in this liminal space of timelessness and so much grey. Each revolving around a different sun. The changes strange, with a lot of blank spaces in between to fill.

My dog passed away, after leaving me this permanent presence of bite scars on my right hand. It still hurts when I overuse my hand. Almost like how grief never leaves you, but stays until the end of time. It’s about getting used to and learning to use different muscles to cope.

My days and months plagued with stresses that shut down my uterus for months, along with anxious crying for continuous mornings and a sense of defeat. School taught me many things I never expected to learn within an educational environment, and made me question myself more than what exactly I am learning.

There was good in certain memories and many more still undiscovered, or needing the gloss of nostalgia and hindsight.

I am glad that’s over. And I can now take the time I need to consolidate, reenergise and look ahead.

Dreaming has become tells of the future, reflections of fear and a place that exists minimally in the day. I continue to scare myself with thoughts of incompetence and not being fast enough. It’s almost ridiculous how I fear losing this rat race of a life when I fucking hate running.

But with 2017, with almost seeing the end but staying in my place still, I have learnt.

That my voice should never aspire to be overwhelming, but to be loud enough for myself. That the questions in my head is just how I am, how I express myself and a part of this ritual of living. That my body can only take so much and it can be greater than what it literally seems to stand for. That my hands might not be able to hold onto much, but I can choose what to grasp and what else to let go. That my feet might tire of taking me places, but I will always have my heart and my imagination to carry me even further.

Beyond these vague concepts of discovering strength and personal resilience, I have also learnt how my perceptions of things can change and that does not necessarily make me a hypocrite or a liar. As long as I admit to them and am made aware of these shifts in myself.

So I have taken steps back to strip myself of my unnecessary pride when I am wrong or mistaken, and apologise. To take these opportunities to grow instead of bubble myself up only to age.

To reach my hand out.

To raise my arm in doubt.

To extend my arms to hold another person.

So on this note, I have a list of thank yous:

– My mother, for being strong

– My (extended) family, for open arms and unconditional support

– Darren, for trying and being

– SaveDawn supporters, for giving me an education and letting me rediscover art

– Friends, from then and now, for the breaths of fresh air

– Everyone that I have had the privilege to write to, spend time with, meet and connect

2017 has been tiring but I am so thankful that you all are still not tired of me.

A lot of love to all of you, and may 2018 be kinder to us all.

I am going to take this a step at a time. And if anyone wants to look for me, for anything at all, my heart is always open and my ears ready to listen xx



I am a rental flat. Where people come home to only when tired and has no other place to go. They don’t even call me home. I am just a place to spend the night, to soak the tiredness away from that body and to abandon by day.

I am a sun. That’s all I am. I give life that is taken for granted and blamed when the rebellious rain strikes. Too hot or too distant.

I am alone. And maybe that’s just how everyone is, too.

Used and useless.

When your feelings, your experiences and you become a minority. Honestly, nobody else cares.

And everyone thinks it is just your problem alone instead of asking how they can help or do better for you.

Because in the end, nobody cares about another person.

Always on the outside looking in.

The wrong gender. The wrong institution. The wrong crowd. The wrong behaviour. Wrong, wrong, wrong.

The written word. 

(September. Overdue. Been having conversations with myself over this but shelved it for another day. Also, my digital footprint is so traceable. I am wondering if I should be worried or not?) 

Looking back at all I have written, or vomited out, over the past year or so, I realised that I haven’t been writing much. In terms of like mediocre poetry or trying to be poetic. 

A lot of posts, at least those past March and after, are about me. 

It didn’t use to be like this. This casual blog is a space where I used to let loose and post up written texts and monologues and poetry. I am not published anyway, and I just wanted to keep it up so I don’t eventually lose touch with the language. 

But I guess this space has started to reflect the person behind the blog. Me. I write about whatever that occupies my mind at a certain point in time, my feelings that I find difficult to convey to another person and almost a therapy I can actually afford. 

(Yes, mental health care is crucial but also really expensive to engage and maintain.) 

I spent a while wondering if I should be apologetic to people that follow this blog since it started, and then discover that it has evolved or maybe grown into a weird imbalanced mix of personal and hobby. 

It is my own space, in a way, but I am also largely aware of people that follow. So I am sorry that it has come to this, and my emotions are all running away from me at this point and my arms aren’t long enough to catch them and place them back into my pocket. 

I also contemplated deleting this blog altogether, for fear of judgment since I have been pouring so much out here and I actually have no idea how many people engage with this space. And then see me from a new light. 

But why am I so easily ashamed of my feelings and feeling so much? I am a contradiction but I doubt I will change. 

But I am starting to slowly find my way back to writing and thinking in words I used to love so much. So maybe, all these past posts have helped. Maybe also because I am finally ending this phase of my life to begin again. 

Thank you for your patience and silent presence. Perhaps I will grow this space back into what it was like before. xx


(Written months back. Probably when I saw an elderly in stillness walking past the bus stop. Almost like a picture frame.) 

The aged are shunned 

Just piles of slow walking wrinkles

Limp flesh and limping legs

An eternal traveller of slowness 

Not weakness 

We thrive in the temporal 

And ignore the truth of our future

Describe a Typical Day. 

Eyes open 

Thinking with eyes open 

Alarm sounds 

Shut it off 

Lie on your back

Listen to the fan blowing 

Get up only after half an hour

Freshen up change fill water bottle 

Leave home lock door let habit lead 

Walk stop walk walk walk walk 

Wait at the bus stop 10minutes away

Board bus 

Plug in music to shut out

Train squeeze hug myself keep feet together try to breathe no physical contact small space 

Tap out and walk 

Straighten back and try to walk in a relaxed manner 

Steady rhythm 

Slow down and up the hill 

Walk through gates 

– day stops – 

Leave gates 

Walk back the way I came

New feelings same many things 

Go home 

Shower and freshen up 

Desk work and concentrate on distractions

Try to sleep 

Eyes closed

Thinking with closed eyes