Tag Archives: thoughts

Another guy, another regret

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It’s been two years.

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I admit, there are times (mostly at night) (mostly when I’m lonely) when you would sneakily slither into my thoughts. And just rest there, leaving me bothered with multiple what-ifs, what-could-have-beens, what-would-I-redo.

Each time my fingers creep closer to my phone. If I can just be courageous enough to find your number, buried underneath all the happenings of the two years, I would send you a message. Because more than my silly hopeful heart, I am burdened with guilt.

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Guilt.

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So badly, I want to tell you that I am sorry.

If not for me, none of this mess would happen.

That it was partially my fault for allowing this to balloon into something that was unmanageable for the both of us.

Don’t be mistaken. This apology is mostly for me to clear my conscience because I am sure, this has not affected you the way it did for me. And that’s okay.

Tap

Your number is no longer on my phone.

Tap

Great.

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This

“This is the hardest.” I say to my side, as I turn my head to look diagonally to the guy staring straight at me. I get ready myself to serve this time. A doubles game currently taking place, our eyes locked to each other. Taking a deep breath, I continue for our team.

Serve, run, smash, distract myself.

I lose the point.

“No. This, is the hardest.” He whispers to me as I walk towards the other square. Again, the guy on the other side of the net stood diagonally from me, waiting for me to be ready before he swings his racket. His look is similarly intense, focused on the game, focused on me.

He is right. This is harder, not the previous. Not having to force myself to focus on him, locking my target as I prepare myself to play, but him looking at me, in the most serious kind of ways. There is no possible way for me to escape his gaze, as if there is no net separating us, as if he is not standing halfway across the court.

I am glad that half the court away, he stands, completely oblivious to this small conversation happening. There is nothing left in me except the feeling of longing and the memories of spontaneity, fearless decisions and persistent actions.

But the worst is none of the above.

It is the fact that I am easily readable by this guy on my side, no context needed to understand the subject of my sudden comment. As close as we can be, we can never be close enough in the ways that I would have desired.

The one that got away is the one in my present, who’s standing next to me, not the guy of my past. Yet, I know for certain that it is my present who will haunt my late night thoughts years from now.

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What defines you?

A: Hey do you know Bob?

B: Which Bob?

A: Oh , Bob. The ***** one.

B: Ahh, yes I know who you’re referring to.

 

I’m confused.

I’m confused about myself and I’m sure all of us has been there at some point. I’m a pessimist -if you didn’t know that about me and I’m not trying to gain any sympathy from this- so I’ve never really thought highly of myself. But what I have been relatively confident about myself is my intelligence. Not that I think I’m intelligent but I like to pride myself to think that I am a tad bit above average -I’m average or below average in everything else- in that department.  And frankly, besides that, I don’t think I have anything to fall back on, no other talents, no looks, no honourable characteristics. So when I receive bad grades in school, I take it quite hard. This recently happened again, and I’m now a little lost and confused. Should I find another resource to define myself with? Is there some other hidden parts of me that I can possibly utilise? Should I just disregard grades as an indicator of my identity? I’m not convinced by any of these suggestions maybe in time I’ll come up with a good one to re-calibrate my thinking.

So, what’s yours?

What is that one thing that defines you?

Is that what you want to be known for in the first place?

Can you change how you define yourself?

And finally, who decides what defines you?

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A life review (Third year)

It’s the end of my third year of university. I’ve been telling that to myself repeatedly now but it has not settled in. True, I have one more year to go but it is just hard to process that this phase is actually coming to an end.

To most, university is a means to an end. You want to get into a prestigious university to ease your way when you’re entering the work force. But for me, university IS my end. I think it was when I was 8, that the idea of studying abroad came to me, after one of my family member left for Australia for uni. Starting from then, I go through each round of exams, knowing that those were all means for me to achieve my goal, which was to get into a university abroad. Now, that I’m here, I’d be lying if I say i’m not slightly clueless about what I’m going to do next. Cause i’ve done it guys, I’ve fulfilled my biggest life goal.

Third year. To sum it up, it’s the year that I lived with no regrets. I was able to enroll in a summer school program, in a good university (Peking Uni), doing a course I absolutely enjoy (Mandarin), all while being able to travel around China (Yes, I’m including China in ‘third year’). And although I’m not going to say that all my courses were enjoyable and applicable in the future -I’m referring to you, Global Justice and Citizenship- the majority of it was. Like, how cool is it to be learning about Political Islam and the Politics of Sex and Gender? The courses may sound cool, but the contents will blow you off your seats. I don’t think that any other courses have impacted my political opinion and my general view of the world as much those two have. In all honesty, before third year, I was getting sick of Politics, sick of IR and academia and all these white privileged men telling me about everything that happens in Europe and America. It’s as if no one else exists, no one else matters. And it was so tiring to the point that I really questioned my degree. Hey hey hey, not anymore, ey.

Let’s also not forget all the friends I made this year. The new people I met, who surprisingly have become relatively important subjects considering the short amount of time they have existed in my life. Not forgetting my decision to dive into the world of relationships and although I’ve closed that chapter, I must say that I don’t regret ever trying it out. Most of it due to the fact that my partner was the best person I could ever choose to do this whole romance thing but alas, I realised that having feelings for someone and committing myself to a relationship are two very different things. While I am not opposed to the prospects of being in a relationship, I am quite sceptical now that I understand more about myself, my priorities and the lengths that I would go to for a person. In the future if someone manages to change my opinion then yay, great! but if not then, yay, great!

I am pretty sure that none of this is of any interest to anyone but I must say I enjoyed writing this unstructured, unimportant, post on my life. No tutor is going to comment after each chapter, no one to correct any errors or criticise anything I say. Cause really, who knows better about my life that myself right?

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Farewell to the skill I once had

I have genuinely lost all my writing skills. I think. It happened somewhere between the absence of a need to write essays and the not so inspirational surrounding I have at home.

No.
I am lying.

These are just reasons. It was the same last year during my first summer break and I had still managed to produce one of the longest works I have ever written.

It is me.

I have lost the ability to write with confidence. I have forgotten the emotions that kicks in, forcing my fingers to dance on the plastic keyboard of weirdly arranged letters. I cannot remember what it feels like to have the same 10 fingers vomiting something beautiful.

How do I write something that is close to my heart but not too close that I leave myself bare, like a display in the public spaces of free-entry museums? Yet, I do not want to write something so distant, something I do not feel connected to. That would just mean writing cliches and things you have probably read before.
I have a longing to be original, somewhat special.
But how do I even start to be original when I am clearly not.

I guess it is nice to amuse myself with dreams so high I can’t see them  even with 20/20 vision.

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The best feeling in the world is when you are able to stand up for yourself and fend off bullies.

There is only so much a person could take. Only so much hatred and frustration one could hold back.

It is absurd that a person does not feel safe in the confines of their own home. There is always the fear of being attacked, harassed or insulted and degraded on a daily basis.

The fight is rough, harsh shoves and raising voices but nothing beats the satisfying feeling of knowing that you can rely on yourself.

Proud.

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Burn

Burn

Burn,
Not bright and mesmerising,
But fast,
Slick tongues of flames,
Licking your useless being,
Edges turning pitch black,
Black like your heart,
Black like your presence,
Turning you into the ashes,
That you are worth,
Because you are nothing more than that,
Dust,
Dirty and unwanted.

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The Iron Women (And Their Tender Hearts)

She lies next to me
On this bed for two
But I am the only one
Whose mind is present
While hers is caught between
The right swipes of the wrong app
And the running debt behind a frozen bank account
A husband she no longer calls one
And the daughter who has to carry too much

I wrap my arms around her
Frame frail and fragile
She did not fall into the trap of planning to fail
But her plans have failed her
And she is in a limbo of her unwise decisions
Between her mistakes and the ones of her loved ones
She easily forgives the wrongs that hurt her more

I spend time with her
And it seems like she is okay
But living in a house that is not a home
Torn between wanting to be a ‘good’ mom
Or one who could actually provide
Leaves her in a lose-lose situation
Forcing herself to swallow the unpleasant taste of guilt
When she sees her son and imagines every what if’s

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Spectrum

Her touches are the colours of warmth,
The crispy shade of dried leaves,
Crackling under the steps of old souls,
The rough edges of red bricks,
Dust and dirt filling the gaps of familiar fingerprints,
The strokes of beauty on the wide canvas of the sky,
Moments before twilight,
When the sun for once is not painful to the eyes.

Her words are a range of soothing hues,
The fresh smell of newly mowed lawn,
The same that stains scarred knees,
The comfort in laying your head on the ground,
Ends of grass that tickles the exposed skin,
Between the torn hem of worn denim
And loose ankles, sprained too many times.

She is a pantone of strength and security,
Bright and scary like a series of thunders,
During the peak of a turmoiling storm,
Deep seas reflecting the image of the sky,
But also calming ombres that darkens towards the horizon,
I was fooled to believe that they are only separated by a fine line,
When they are dimensions that never meet.

This is my version of TaySwizzle’s Red or Halsey’s Colours, whichever genre you listen to.

Also, i think i might have tried too hard with this, as much as trying too hard can get at 6 in the morning with no sleep the previous night. I only hope I do not sound pretentious in this.

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Hi World, I do not need for you to know me.

At a certain point of having this blog, I realised that I really wanted to be heard. I desired for my thoughts to be understood, for others to at least try to see it how I see it, regardless if they agree with me or not. But in all honesty that does not matter. I have discovered that now. That my goal was never to be understood by the world but by the few people I care enough to share what it feels like to see the world through my pair of boring, brown eyes.

Then isn’t it stupid for me to run a public blog when the obvious way to achieve what I really wanted is through personal communication? Well, I guess, but the more attached I am to someone, I find it harder to express to them my real thoughts. Especially the controversial ones I keep hidden. Also, I must say, putting my heart out on my sleeve isn’t something I am particularly good at.

Writing here is easy and between the two paths diverging ahead of me, I choose the easier one. As much as I know everyone who reads this are human, I do not put an identity on any of you, no faces attached to the views I get everyday. I am detached from you. So, I do not care what are your perceptions of me after you have done reading what I decide to tell you.

What I could do instead is maybe start a project like one of my friends have done. She writes letters to all the people around her. Despite the fact that she never sends them, it still serves the purpose: She gets her thoughts cleared up and it is kept private. Maybe I should start one as well. And maybe unlike her, I should hand them to people when I feel like the time is right. And just maybe, you might have one with your name written in block letters (cause I cannot write cursive)on a worn envelope with dog ears on two out of the four sides.

As for now, I have taken off the link of my blog from my public accounts. The only ones who have access to this blog now are people who have visited it or people who stumble upon it after being on the wordpress reader and they aren’t many of them. So now, this becomes more personal to me, well at least as personal as a public blog can get and I feel more safe writing what I feel like writing.

Ps: Also, recently I was hanging out with my sisters and I asked if they have read my blog and they told me that they had but they could not really understand what I was saying. They said it was too poetic (in a bad way). If you agree with them please tell me. I guess I sound like I am trying too hard half the time. Have I? I am not really sure myself.

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