Month: October 2013

Dear you,

In case you haven’t realized, I’m always watching you. I love the way you smile, I love the way you go crazy and wild. I love how effortlessly you make my heart pound. I love how you make a miracle to my soul.

Dear you,

In case I haven’t made it obvious enough, you charm. I see the blue skies smiling down at you. I see the roses blossom in your presence. I see beautiful things happen around you.

Dear you,

They say, love is complicated.

Dear you,

I say, this is not an infatuation. Or is it?

Dear you,

You know me and I know you.

If you give me your hand, I’ll promise to never let go. It’s just that not now, because I’m scared that they won’t understand.

Dear you,

Time. Time is all I need from you.

P.S this is directed to no one in particular.

Sometimes, I honestly think I need anger management. 

Or is it because I get jealous too easily? Maybe something that I see triggers unfavourable, bitter memories. Bittersweet.

Anyway seriously how the heck do you not expect me to go crazy after writing 3 freaking argumentative essays in a row. I hate remedial homework but it’s probably my fault I failed the compre term 3 test hahahahaha.

I don’t know if it’s just me but seeing certain texts/images will trigger my sorrows? Maybe that’s why you should get to know a little about everyone before you start insulting them for fun online because maybe, you hit the sore spot when you didn’t mean to.

I admit, sometimes I go completely nuts angry over a small issue, but when asked why I tend to give a fake reason or something else that doesn’t really bother me but just as a coverup reason because I thought the real reason why I was so angry was actually a very trivial issue/ selfish thing to get angry about. 

Anger, or jealousy? I can never tell the difference. They feel so different, yet somewhat the same.

I think I need a psychiatrist. But the irony is, a psychiatrist is my dream job.

While I live, I hope.

I think it’s weird how awkward it is to say the first hello, yet so heart shattering to say the last goodbye. Maybe it’s because of the memories we’ve made that made things between us so comfortable, you’d get used to it and take it for granted. But it’s just not sensible to be sad about the day where we will leave every single day. Maybe it’s the sense of attachment you’ve grown, maybe it’s the sense of belonging that you feel. The sense of home, the sense of security and serenity you find within the circles of the class. Your second home, your shelter. That place you can be really comfortable with.

I don’t really have much to say (refer to last blog post) so I shall dedicate a song to all my classmates.

Still

Actually it’s a Christian song so please take away all the ” Father ” ” God ” and yeah basically everything that’s immortal and the rest are for you.

When the oceans rise and thunders roar, I will soar with you above the storm.

I used to think 3 years is a really long time. I mean, it still sounds like a freaking long time now, doesn’t it.

Since the first day of secondary school, I have wanted to be in senior high, donning the so-much-prettier white blouse and blue skirt uniform. And hopefully with a tie to accompany. I always felt you had so much more to achieve once in senior high, and junior high didn’t really mean too much to me at first.

I would never have given a second thought about the last day of school of Secondary 3 in Secondary 1, I would never have cared what it felt like to leave my classmates behind, because the time frame made it seem so unrealistic.

I really wished I was right, when I said junior high would never end. I really wish junior high never ended.

Two days. How should I possibly use 2 short days to seize back all the memories since 2011?
Two days. A journey of 3 years packed into 14 school hours and less.
Two days. That’s all I got to seize the day.
Two days. That’s the last time, we will ever be together, as a class, again.

Deja vu cannot save me now.

To everyone who has walked by me for the past 3 years, or for some lesser, this is all I have to say:

I know I haven’t been the best classmate there ever was, I know I haven’t been the best that I can be. I’m flawed, occasionally hurting some of you. Imperfection is the word to describe me in all these three years we had together, but yet I had so much fun and joy together, as one class. I am little, I cannot do much. But with sincerity and all my heart, thank you for being my classmates. Thank you for being 1A’11, 2A’12 and 3A’13. Thank you, because without you I wouldn’t have came this far. How lucky I am to have something that makes saying goodbye so hard.

Man’s feelings are always the purest and most glowing in the hours of meeting, and farewell.

Don’t be dismayed by goodbyes, a farewell is necessary before we can meet again. We only part, to meet again.

Sincerely dedicating this post with all my heart,
Once a class, forever a class.

1A’11, 2A’12, 3A’13.

Thank you, for making 3 perfect years out of an imperfect human like me.

I clearly remember somewhat 3 years ago when I walked into RVHS the day after I got posted to my new secondary school, trying on my new uniform.

” Better buy a bigger sized one, ya, you’re gonna wear it for 3 years leh. “
The student helping me with the uniforms said to me, as I frantically tried to find the uniform sleeves which I subsequently failed, and hence struggled to put on my uniform but failing to do so resulted in a particularly funny sight of a person wrestling with their uniform in mid-air, like an emperor penguin about to topple over.

And in 2 more days, I’ll never have to wear that uniform again. No shut up I’m not going to get retained my results are already out and they’re good enough to promote me.

There were 4 stages of my pinafore journey in RV.
1) Can’t find the sleeves and subsequently cannot wear uniform.
2) Stomach area too small and subsequently my tummy feels very squeezed when I sit down. And shut up I am not obese. Yet.
3) I swear to devil, that thing doesn’t absorb water for shit.
4) Have I mentioned! the buttons are so poorly sewn on, I drop at least one button every 2 weeks.

Countless times have I complained about the heat in the pinafore, countless times have my stupid metallic buttons dropped and leaving me in a rather embarrassing state. Countless times have I sworn that I couldn’t wait for senior high because of the change of uniforms. I was more than ready to get rid of the pinafore, and wear a white blouse and navy blue skirt to school every day instead.

But maybe, not so fast now. Maybe, miraculously this remaining 2 days will last 100 hours. Maybe just maybe, without having the need to retain, I could wear this pinafore for a little longer, just to commemorate all the 3 years in it, just to relieve all the memories in it. All the stupid things I’ve done in it, the first tears that fell on it when I did particularly badly in a test in year 1, that time when I fell into a rain puddle in pinafore, leaving me very drenched and very pissed.

I’m sorry, maybe I’m not yet ready to change uniforms yet.

2 more days, please let me have a more enjoyable time as my last two days donning it.

I want to cherish every memory of that plain white nurse uniform, that uniform that’s been with me throughout probably the best 3 years of my life thus far.

Time, will you take pity on me?

Slowly, surely, time robs us of fond moments. But I will be, and always will be, that girl whose pinafore changed her life.

That girl in pinafore.

Goodbye junior high, hello senior high.

There’s one thing I hate about exams. I mean literally there’s only one thing I hate about it all.
Results.

If getting back results isn’t equivalent to entering a cave full of live killer sharks, I don’t know what else makes you feel that way anymore. It literally wrenches your your heart open, toying with all your emotions and when it comes down, tears you completely into half.

It’s especially bad if you’re the last few registers and everyone in front of you has already somehow survived the ordeal of seeing their results.

And especially if the teacher walks into class with a sullen mood, you know you’re most likely done for.

Somehow, on results day you’ll start thinking of every single misbehavior you’ve ever committed and how much the teacher probably hates you. You’ll start thinking of all the sorry things you’ve ever committed and if the teacher hates you so much he’ll probably deduct away all your marks. If there was ever such thing called exam-biasness, I think most of us would probably die. So thank God for fair and just marking schemes. But we still do terribly, right?

Do you ever find the inability to look at the teacher in the eye, when they give down results? Do you ever keep thinking you’re the lowest scorer in class when you’re not?

Things will always change, if it isn’t changing, it’s because it hasn’t happened.

There will always be a last position, but there will never be a last person. Never.

If you’re not doing too well in school, cheer up! Because this is not the end, you can always decide your fate.

Work hard, if things aren’t already working out. Trust me, the sense of getting rewarded is worth all the pain you’ve put yourself through.

Go for it, because if you don’t, someone else will.

Change it if you don’t like it, because if you don’t, who will?

Risk it, because at the end of it all, it will be worth it.

Fight for it, because glory is forever.

Good luck for getting back your papers, I wish you all the best.

Including myself. Damn it.

This post is highly not advisable to be read by top scholars because it will be of 100% irrelevance in the first place.
But since I only typed this at the end of my post, I suppose if you’ve came this far, you would’ve blown the instruction anyway.

Toodles!

People are constantly tweeting about how they are locked out of their houses because they forgot to bring their keys.

But that doesn’t concern me now, my lock is a fingerprint sensor.

But I do remember, back in primary school before I moved, I used to get myself locked out a hell lot of times. I know. I get that feeling a lot. 

What can you expect from a P3 anyway?

I remember there was this dude called Glenn who lived directly below me, so whenever I got locked out I would go camp at his unit until my parents came back. I remember his mum would ask me, ” You mean you don’t keep a key under the mat or something? ” 

Uh, no?

And then his mum would give me pizzas, and once I even played Xbox with him. Getting locked out of house has never felt this great because in fact I was hoping to get locked out more often because I fell in love with his Xbox.

I fell in love with his xbox, not him.

And then every single time after I got locked out, my parents would come home and screw me up.

But that’s okay, I got to play with a Xbox. 

Even though I got a shelling, I smiled cheekily.

I was such a game addict since young.

Although now I don’t ever get locked out ever again unless I lose my finger, I’ve always wondered

What would happen if I get locked out again?

I loved how I didn’t care about anything when I was younger.

” I promise I won’t get locked out again, ” I said as I locked myself out again a few days later.

Boy I know you’re dangerous
You’re not the one I’m supposed to love
But this is more than just a crush, tonight
So I’m gonna tell my mama ’bout ya (Imma tell her, Imma tell her)
I’m gonna tell my mama ’bout ya (Imma tell her, Imma tell her)
I’m gonna tell my mama ’bout ya (Imma tell her, Imma tell her)

I swear Christina Grimmie’s “Tell my Mama” is so damn catchy.

I’m so glad there’s only one more paper left. Freedom is near.

Actually I have a confession to make : I like exam period because parents will give me lesser stress at home and be more understand. But then I hate studying for it and of course I dread results day.
And also CCA stops. But then I’m not exactly sure if that’s a good thing or not because for one thing I gained pretty much weight during this 1 month pause. I’m looking forward to being back on court though. And training is resuming pretty soon. Goodbye, my fats.

And then there’s something that I can’t seem to get off my mind : 2014

2013 to 2014 isn’t like 2011 to 2012 or 2012 to 2013.

I can’t believe 3 years pass so quickly, I’m not ready for last year in secondary school. Truth is, I’m afraid of JC. I’m afraid of ‘A’ Levels. And even though 2016 seems far away, time zooms by faster than any one of us can imagine. I’m scared to embrace the future. I’m scared something will happen. Please don’t. I wished time would stop.

Truth is that, everyday is a different day, everyday can be a miracle. Everyday is a challenge, big or small. Embrace everyday, face everyday bravely.

Life is too short to waste, live life to the fullest. But then I’m so scared of living life to the fullest because there are always gonna be setbacks that push me off the track and I don’t know how long I’ll take to get back on track again.

There’s something I hate about society, I hate how competitive people are, and how some will do anything to get what they want even if it means to cause great harm. Why? Why are so many innocent people harmed because of greed and desire? Why make this world such a dark place to live in?

I keep having nightmares and horrible visions nowadays, it’s so disturbing.

Maybe I could use some love. Love is so amazing.

Lately I’ve been in a terrible mood. Especially today, when something happened and blew me off my feet. Now I’m regretting it like hell but maybe rash choices are made to teach us a lesson. And maybe I’ll grow up to become a better person by learning from the mistakes I made.

Nobody walks a completely peaceful path in life, storms and winds will blow.

I hope you’re okay.

I hope I’m okay.

And I’m sorry for this post. I know it’s horrible.

Maybe I just needed a little ranting space where no one would judge me.

I hate being in a terrible mood, it’s like something dark just completely engulfs you and the feeling sucks.

I hope everything will be better soon.

Until then, maybe one day a miracle will happen.

Or will it be a tragedy?

I hate how life is so unpredictable.

Transition

I don’t know what to tell from your eyes anymore. Once, they lighted up the world, the most radiant thing for a long while.

I don’t know what to trust anymore. Once, you were a valley of truth. I don’t want your white lies anymore.

“It’s okay,” that’s what you always say, that’s what I always expect from you.
“That’s fine,” I say, because I knew I wouldn’t make a difference anyway.
“I haven’t felt like this for a while,” you fight back your tears.

Neither have I.

Radiance. That’s what you were.

Don’t go. It’s too early.

Don’t go.

But you never listened.

Sometimes we walk past HDB flats and see a mass funeral service undergoing at the void deck. And sometimes, you wear black to Bukit Brown cemetery in memorial of your loved ones.

Sometimes you wonder how it feels to be buried, shut away from the outside world with occasionally with a few stalks of flowers on your doorstep. Qingming Festival becomes your new birthday and christmas combined all into one, because who would visit you on December 25th?

Loamy soil, your new home. The smell of must, your latest perfume. Dead silence, your mp3 radio. Rain, the window to your eyes. Hello, your new goodbye. Darkness, the creator of all light.

And one day not too far, that will be us.