things don’t matter people do

I just came back from another funeral. This time it’s the funeral of a long-time friend; Someone who’s watched me grow from a noisy, bratty kid to quiet, awkward oversized kidult. I used to hang out with her youngest daughter; we were childhood friends. And I remember always hearing aunty jokingly boast about how handsome and pretty her children were. She took pride in her family, her work, her love for God and the good looks and beautiful hair that God blessed her with. She was always friendly, bubbly, loud, and she was one of the few (if not, only) aunties that I was able to joke around with.

Then I grew older and more out of sync with formalities and hence I avoided conversation with people much older than me because it’s just way out of my comfort zone.

The last time I spoke to her properly was… the end of last year – more than ten years later – over a period of time when we were involved in a Charity concert. I spoke to her over the phone. She wasn’t feeling too well at the hospital and couldn’t make it for rehearsal so they called her and passed the phone around in a circle so each of us could say something to her. I told her that Jesus is her strength – but not after an awkward silent pause, followed by a laugh when she said my name. She sounded happy, as usual, and endearing, and she said that I’ve become really shy. I apologised and then said whatever I thought was appropriate. Just a line or two.

During the concert I saw her again and we smiled. She’s grown smaller and was less active because she wasn’t feeling too well. But she still had joy in her spirit. And though I was a lot more comfortable not saying a thing a part of me wished that I could joke around with her again. Couple of days ago I heard that her cancer got worse and she had to be hospitalised.

She lived her life to the fullest, even in the midst of pain; she ate and spent time with her friends no matter how tired she felt because she didn’t want to live a lesser life for the sake of getting better. She went overseas more times than people would prefer her to just so she could spend time clinging onto her husband’s arm the way she always did whenever we saw them together.

So yeah. I just came back from her funeral and I still feel heartbroken. I felt so heartbroken for her family, especially her husband. I kept tearing up at the sight of her picture, a really pretty one, because I wanted so badly to say, “actually you’ve always been my favourite aunty.” But I couldn’t. And I can’t imagine how much more grieved her family feels having experienced her love and joy firsthand throughout their lives.

It sucks to feel a sliver of regret from not doing something for someone when I could have and I have a feeling I will spend pockets of the next few days thinking about that and how fragile human life actually is and in turn cherishing the people that I care more by not taking them for granted but at the same time I’ll also be wondering if I actually matter.


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




“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.


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


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