Hush now,
It's hard to notice time,
And death is raping your thoughts,
But one day soon will come a dawn and all will be as it should.

Hush now,
Take a bite,
It's alright to feel,
We were created to after all.

Hush now,
When friends have gone home,
The loneliness you feel so overwhelms,
Don't dwell, indulge.

Hush now,
You see her face in everything,
Every moment spent with her on rewind,
It's true, it did happen.

Hush now,
Life may have left you but momentarily,
Get past now and you'll be fine.

- Dedicated to Juju.

"What is Lapsap? Is it a kind of dimsum?"

The past few weeks have been all sorts of ups and downs. Giving equal attention to work and working out, fun and friends, and education and learning is no tiny feat. I've grown too attached to my organiser and too reliant on chemical highs. Thank God I have wonderful people around me to help with the destressing.

Surrounding yourself with people who love you and things given by people who once loved you is a strange kind of therapy. The world is all aglow again and you suddenly feel like you're five. Though of course the riveting conversations about thrown up mee hoon and the sight of bright shiny things don't hurt terribly. Maybe it's about returning to the familiar. Being comfortable with the people you've known for years. Going back to a time when worries weren't bad because at least you had company.





You know, sometimes I think I shouldn't even be allowed to own a camera. I always leave it at home. And on the rare occasion that I do remember to bring it out with me, I'm too damn lazy to use it (it's hard juggling the camera case with the camera and the open handbag and the drink...). And when I do use it, the shot's weird or the lighting's off or my flash is too bright... And I end up with like five photos by the end of the day... And so I wait for just about a year before my friends pass me the photos from their cameras. I think I should sell my camera.

Word of the day: Like fallen leaves and fallen soldiers, they believe in a greater good.

We are cursed to be slaves.
Slaves to the world,
Slaves to bitterness,
Slaves to discontent,
Slaves to a past so disfiguring we are forever changed.

We wear chains.
Chains of fear,
Chains of love,
Chains of hope.
Chains that cut deep into the skin, blood-stained and rusty.
And yet we try.

Once again his words reverberate through my soul launching me into a momentary state of detachedness. "Go away!" I scream internally at his distorted voice and the suggestion that it's my calling to live as if my life were on loop. "You could just be repeating your mistakes," he says. I sat in silence the first time I heard it with an embarrassed curl forming on my lips. The embarrassment has since been replaced with an inconsolable feeling of dread. A careless remark suddenly taking up temporary residence in the obsessive part of my mind. Just because I decided to make exceptions. But I definitely knew better. Life has taught me better but yet I did it... Again. Could it be that it's all a part of who we are? The reason we did it that very first time was because that's who we are and no manner of time and suffering would we learn from because when a similar situation comes along, once again we are compelled to do what instinct tells us. "Oh God, stop obsessing!"

Word of the day: Like a chipped nail, it was no less annoying, but no more significant.