Sharing

I just realised that social media’s been a majority of my life. Like, it was Friendster then Blogger then Facebook then Path then Instagram and Twitter and like- Not sharing something almost seems strange. It isn’t that it’s bad to share but I realised that eventually I started to share just for the sake of sharing. It came to a point I can’t not share everything because I don’t realise that actually, I don’t need to share everything that happens to me.

Today was a good day. I cut myself off mid-sentence but got a wink in return. I feel really thankful.

You know when you run out of things to say because it seems like you’re just talking to air in a burning room and nothing makes enough sense because you’re unsure of what you used to know and you’re too afraid to find out

 

 

5

“On some nights, I feel like giving up. On some nights, it feels that maybe the absence of love with solve it all. In those moments, I remember the memories. I remember every time exactly how holding her made me feel. I remember how every single time, somehow, my laugh is truer with her. I remember how she makes me feel about being myself. I remember how every time she flawlessly accepts all my flaws with nothing but love in her eyes.

So maybe it is not easy to love people. Maybe life will be much less messy if we were always detached. But where will we find the magic then? If love is not the point, what’s the point anyway?”

I remember buying a particular species of succulent plant because the saleswoman told me that she had one of those and its leaves were dying off and everyone told her to throw the plant away because it was dying but she kept taking care of it until a flower grew and it turned out that it was alive all along though it didn’t look like it from the outside.

Quite a while back I remember we tried to save a plant because it got crushed by its surroundings. It’s growing well now thanks to its meticulous owner. A week ago mine dropped out of its pot because I got careless and it almost died. I thought I could save it but then the maid threw it away because she saw that it was dying. She didn’t ask if she could throw it away; she just did. Somehow it happens to me a lot. Now my plant is gone and I feel like I got thrown away along with it too.

 

the last place i want to be

I’ve been sleeping really late recently. I should probably sleep earlier. But I’m no longer a fan of waking early even though I still can’t sleep past 10am regardless of how late I fall asleep because I spend a few hours trying to breathe when I wake up.

Anyway, I watched someone quarrel over the phone today. She tried to talk to him throughout the entire conversation but it was far from one; he was just screaming at the other end of the line. There was no dialogue; Just a man screaming out of defensiveness over the things that he thinks he’s done and failing to see, instead, the reality of how much he hasn’t. I wondered if they’d ever reach a conclusion. Actually, I knew they wouldn’t. He simply wasn’t listening; he was pointing fingers neck deep in the blame game debating over things that’s already happened trying to twist it around so it would seem like he didn’t make choices that brought everything that’s happened upon himself. I wondered if he was aware of that in the first place. It’s scary to hear someone stubbornly believe that they did everything right when it’s as clear as day to other people that they haven’t; as if all the hurt he’s ever inflicted never happened. It’s a big deal, at least to me. Many people were hurt in the process. We grew up with scars from it.

I’m a little relieved that Jesus is bigger than our past. We’re constantly a new creation and I like to believe that we are better versions of ourselves with each second that passes and that means we don’t need to be held back by what we’ve grown used to. It’s still unnerving, though. Because me quietly sitting there felt strangely familiar. It was like sitting with an old friend that I haven’t met in a very long time and it made me think about why I fear what I fear today.

Hmm.

For some reason I’m suddenly reminded of that time when my mum told me stories of all the romances that she’s ever had in her life and that time when my dad told me about his biggest regret and everything kinda makes a little more sense all of a sudden. I know text cannot convey the full extent of how I’m feeling right now but… wow.

Crap. I should sleep. I’m craving for acai bowls.

 

love and loss

I watched my granddad’s cremation today. His coffin moved steadily towards the incinerator and amidst soft crying sounds I fell into a daze. My heart tossed and turned because I could hear all the pain from the people around me and I knew how that felt. Maybe not loving someone does make life a little less painful; you don’t have to struggle to get used to anything when they’re gone. I left the crematorium convinced that I’m never gonna allow myself to get too close to anyone else.

But isn’t pain natural? Isn’t discomfort is a signal to an onset of growth? Can you really love someone and not feel pain from loving them? Doesn’t it hurt because it matters?

Perhaps we shut our hearts off because we’re afraid of the pain that comes with exposing it. We’re afraid that getting used to something good could mean double the pain should we lose it. So we deny ourselves. Cut it off. Nobody has to suffer that way; nobody has to deal with the pain. We’re just afraid. Because we know that we are perfectly capable of hurting people; we’re all naturally flawed beyond measure and no one deserves to have to deal with that. But we forget that someone else has already dealt with it a long time ago.

 

I wonder who I really am;
What I’m really interested in.
If whatever I did didn’t amount to anything,
what would I choose to do?
If I should lose everything and everyone that I hold dear
What kind of person would I be?
Is there anything that I actually want for myself
or have I been a blank all along

Hi Tumblr, it’s been a while

Happy Chinese New Year

I’m looking at all these red, happy posts on Facebook seated by my granddad’s coffin feeling like he isn’t the only one who’s passed on. Hope is compelling and undeniable; I am God’s beloved child and there will always be hope in the darkest nights. But reality is it really hurts.

When you cannot stop thinking about something it appears in your dreams as well. Some people said that dreams are windows to your subconscious self. Looks like my subconscious self is still living in dream – or real life – as I was once corrected. I’m not sure what’s real and what isn’t anymore.

 

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