May 23, 2011

The playful conversation starts

(because I really, really don't feel like studying for tomorrow's exam)

It reminds me of the way you used to smile at me. A lifetime ago.

I remember all the hurt I once went through, that crazy inner struggle. How you set my heart soaring before dropping it into yet another bottomless pit of confusion and screams. On a daily basis. It was extreme hurt only a couple of my friends saw in the way I lashed out at no one in particular, at my own heart, really, at my inability to break free. Kept trying to build my paper-thin walls of defence before you came along and tore them down again and again. I was a marionette; you, Rochester, controlled my puppet strings, with all that picking up and throwing away you did, throwing me around without realising.

"Yeah, what happened? You were so different"

You say I had changed. Me? I'm still me. What changed?

Anyway, it's a crazy pit I got myself out of, and I've no wish to look back and go anywhere close to drowning again. It's a horrible pit, unrequited love.

Now, no chains keep me bound to millenium-long months of pain. Freedom. Yet a different sort of pang arises.

Thank God for friends.

May 22, 2011

Shuffle for me

There are some things I'd rather not remember. They say memories make a man. I guess sometimes experiences teach you strong lessons the hard way. Sucks sometimes. Especially if you don't learn.
From the loneliness and extreme insecurity in Crescent and the random screw-ups along the way and the angst and the pain to realising trustworthiness is like diamond, beautiful yet rare: can you keep a secret? And all the little times we all feel like the sky's gonna come engulf us in our horrible confusion, a surge of overwhelming emotions you're sure will kill you.
I'm becoming incoherent.

Funny how my mind closes off at some things and refuses to go deeper. When I see something that triggers negative feelings, a memory of a situation that left me vexed or worried or disappointed, even - my mind refuses to take it in any more. It's like I'm walking through a forest in my mind, and each tree and plant and ant holds a memory. Suddenly I come across a pile of leaves. I step on it, only to find it's covering a trap, a deep hole in the ground. A sorrow-engulfing memory that once trapped me. I almost fall for it again but run away quickly before I fall into that pit of torment again, where I'd struggle to get out but find myself drowning in all that inner turmoil, that whirling confusion.

get yourself back here, I'm not done yet

While you're there all happy, with someone to remind you that you're the most beautiful person in the world in his eyes,
here I am.

(you look me in the eye, but you aren't talking to me)

Thanks so much everyone for the wishes and hugs and awesome gifts and heartfelt letters by the way :)

May 12, 2011

You don't know this, but I see you

and I see your feelings, I see your angst

I'm proud of you for the first half of your angst. As for the second half, one day

these people will see the light at the end of the unendingly long tunnel they've lost themselves in.

You'll know why things are as such now. And I love you for all you've told me without realising.

A lot of us lost our way in that long tunnel in the beginning. I was fine with it - maybe Crescent Dance trained me to respect and not question and respect; not necessarily a good thing, but it keeps one out of trouble or feelings of resentment - you don't resent when you respect. I used to think my seniors weren't as human as I was - always expected them to be flawless, perfect. Even my OGLs - I guess I sort of expected them to always embody the perfect set of values and all. I've changed since then - learnt that even the seniors are normal people like me - but I remember how that felt, and the disappointment when I realised they weren't superhuman after all.

But you're different, of course.

And I still love you all the same, or more, and I still have faith, and it'd be good to have a cry right now but it's not with too heavy a heart. I'd love to go up to you and have a truthful chat or give you a big hug and cry but I know I'm not the person to do it - someone else, who understands this less than I do, will have to do the job of telling you to pull through, while I restrain myself from being heard. Distance myself, be nothing more than

I'm not questioning my decision from the start to push you, because I know

you will see the light at the end.

We don't know how long this road will last

Chinese songs. There were a couple of songs we once used to describe our little crazy love - our songs.

我们不会知道 以后的日子会有多长
在我的世界 都会有你守护肩膀

Then one day we began to write our own.

I remember your lyrics. They're still beautiful to me, because they really are. It was a well done song.

Do you still remember this?

The Chinese language is just....beautiful. It's so emotive, painfully emotive. Even the happy things can sound painful. Like how I do it. I've always wished I were good enough at it to be able to use it as a tool for expression. Wish I could be in command of the language, twirl it around my fingers, create magic with it like how I attempt to write emotively with the English language sometimes. The English language isn't an emotive one. We can attempt to play with words to make them strike emotion in readers, but the words aren't alive.

With Chinese, the words are alive, more so in Traditional Chinese words (that they use in Taiwan) than in the simplified Chinese we learn, because they still carry a hint of the word's history. Take the word 'Listen' for example: in simplified Chinese it's 听 which doesn't tell you much, but look at the traditional Chinese version:

Okay I'm no expert, but you do see the symbol for the ear (耳), the eye (目) and the heart (心). You don't just listen with the ears, but you use the eyes in the attention you give the speaker, and you also listen with your heart.

Actually, I'm probably wrong. Anyone able to tell me more about this word in particular? I just love the concept of the ears, eyes and heart all playing a part in listening.

Dammit lah wish I were bilingual.

Psalm 6 and its beauty

I am sick at heart.
How long, O God, until you restore me?
Return, O Lord, and rescue me. Save me because of your unfailing love.

I am worn out from sobbing.
All night I flood my bed with weeping, drenching it with my tears.

Go away; all you who do evil,
for the Lord has heard my weeping.
The Lord has answered my plea; the Lord will answer my prayer.

May all my enemies be disgraced and terrified.
May they suddenly turn back in shame.

May 10, 2011

My first and last Creative Writing Circle meeting

Diabolical: having the qualities of a devil; devilish; fiendish
(a play on perspectives.)

Satan's Spawn

"Mine? You're no daughter of mine," my mum used to tell the girl who wasn't my sister. "You're so filthy. Dirty. Don't pretend you know me."
"Dear God, why'd you give me a child so ugly?"

I used to watch in curious fear as my mother beat her until she could no longer walk, hot iron in one hand, tinted glass bottle in the other. I never liked alcohol. My mother says it's her medicine, but I think it far from heals her.

I watched as my mother dragged the girl by her hair to the bedroom. The poor girl, screaming, writhing as my mother overturned the frying pan - hot oil on her pale, frail body.

I blamed it on that poison.

As a child, I was allowed to play with my mother's nail polish and help her with the dishes, but she turned into a monster every time she saw the girl. My mother always told me never to go near the ugly child, Satan's spawn, an offspring of the devil.

The devil?

Now, I come home to the shouts of my mother and the cries of another. "You can't even clean the toilet, what is the devil's child good for!" A cry and a knock; head meets ceramic. Then the sound of continuous flushing.
"Drown, you ugly child, drown."

I stand in the corridor, not wanting to add to my mother's fury. Understanding the ways of, yet not fully understanding, the perpetual fury she has towards the stranger who sleeps a wall away from me. My mother lets go of the girl and storms out. "Lunch's on the table," she calls out to me.

Curious, I peer at the girl who isn't my sister. I can't see her face clearly, but I see a mess of hair, some blood and a broken nose.
Her cry is almost melodic, a desperate plea in song.

Without thinking, I help her into a sitting position and attempt to wipe the blood off her face. For the first time, I see that she has triple eyelids, just like me.

I realise, today, that the girl is my sister, and the woman isn't my mother.

May 9, 2011

God, and the heart-wrenching love of a daughter

"God's promises are like the stars;
the darker the night, the brighter they shine."
- David Nicholas

I was sitting alone at church, away from the cell group because I was late from Econs tuition.

It was Mothers' day; there was a video skit with a narration about a girl who had the love of a mother who was always there for her. I didn't see where this video was going until the mother in the video said "Carmen"... and "cancer". And then I realised.

It was a video of her life, growing up with a mum who later realised she had fallen to cancer.

Dang. I started crying helplessly. Beside me was a preteen stranger.

Later on, Carmen went on stage. "Hi church. My name is Carmen. The video you just saw was the story of my life." And I could only cry even more. She talked about how her mother had motivated her to sing, and then she sang on stage.

And I bet you, the thousands of people there at City Harvest Church were captivated - they were in complete awe of the angel that sang in her. The angel that gave her a voice of overflowing beauty, a heart of strength and a soul of praise. They were in awe of God's work through her and her voice of an angel. I was in awe of God's work through a beautiful girl with an even more beautiful heart, a girl I was blessed enough to have to help me through my own tough times.

The guest pastor that day was Dr Kim Sunghae, the wife of Dr Yonggi Cho, the founder of the church with the world's largest congregation of a million as of 2007 - Yoido Full Gospel Church. There was a video introducing Dr Kim and her piano-playing talent that she used to write songs of praise, and the healing miracles she had done - getting the wheelchair-bound elderly to stand up and walk while she encouraged them from behind with continuous shouts of 'Hallelujah!' - and I instantly loved the very lovable woman. She's so cute. She raises her hand and waves when she says "Hallelujah". Awww <3

"I hope that you and the church will embrace the Holy Spirit, and be a Christ-like Church"

She spoke a lot about trials, how the newspapers and the people can impose personalities and claims upon you, but nothing changes or makes who we are because God alone makes us who we are, and knows us inside out and loves us regardless of our faults.

You can't stop God from loving you. We may try to run away from Him or insult and mock him and do horrible things knowing He's watching, but you can't make Him stop loving you with your actions and thoughts - He loves you because of who He is, not because of what you've done. Nothing will change who He is.

And like the waves that rose above the breakwater as she stood there in terror,
troubles may come all of a sudden. They may be unpredictable. But need we worry? Our whole life is a test, but our love for God prepares us for these trials. We, children of God, stand firm in His love through the trials and He will protect us with His calming, reassuring presence. He can turn these trials into blessings.

I've experienced it. It's pretty beautiful to look back upon.

The definition of unrequited love

Unrequited love is love that is not openly reciprocated or understood as such, even though reciprocation is usually deeply desired.

The inability to express and fulfill emotional needs may lead to feelings such as depression, low self-esteem, anxiety and rapid mood swings between depression and euphoria.

The object of unrequited love is often a friend or acquaintance, someone regularly encountered... This creates an awkward situation in which the admirer has difficulty in expressing his/her true feelings, a fear that revelation of feelings might invite rejection, cause embarrassment or might end all access to the beloved.

yes, girl (and you, too), it's a story of your life. You've just found an explanation for all that inner turmoil. It's almost medical. It's like a doctor took your life and gave you a medical write-up.

Now it's no longer pent-up emotions you don't know how to express, other than in the tears you sow in secret in the hope that seems eternally futile, and in the nights you lash out at yourself with vulgar blog posts and alcohol and a penknife, wondering if you're cheerful enough, pretty enough. It's typed out here, concrete, for you and the rest of the 98% of the world who have felt just like how you do. The world isn't crashing down on you. It isn't just you going through this torture after all.

Now smile for me. Genuinely.

May 6, 2011

When the lights go out we'll be safe and sound

Can't get enough of the song.

Had a fun time watching Thor with the exco,
(Gerou's balloon escaped; Abi got it back with the help of the cleaner's mop!)

going for Macbeth at Fort Canning with the class and Seokhoon (who gave up trying to understand what was going on within the first few minutes) and Fang Jiunn (who was desperately trying to explain the plot to him, Amelia and me),

going for some art exhibition with the foster siblings hahahahaha. Had a good time.

K this is one of those how-my-days-have-been posts. Next one will be about things that matter (if I can recall all I wanted to talk about).