life will be good

crisp wind and fresh air
smells of infinite possibilities
under infinite blue

pantomime trees sway gently in the breeze

we hum our own tunes, melodies
blend into what becomes the songs of life

it only gets better from here

17, now. – blissfully blank

most days are messy:
physics equations in english and
black dots of music in math
overwhelmed with loud laughter
headaches and mental screaming

some days are quiet:
papers and pieces of information neatly filed away
the soft scribbling of pencils
the faint rustle of papers
fades into shared silence

then there are some times
thoughts muted, mind blank
there are no words, only colours and shapes
empty sounds
and nothing else.

IMG_2814 (1)
view from my school’s garden! there isn’t much, but it’s one of the more quieter places on the campus.

17, now. – family is synonymous with home

dolled up and feeling like
a stranger in my skin
festive reds and golds but
familiar places with familiar faces
i start to ease up –

passing years have seen us drifting
time zones and lifetimes away
but a rhythm settles and the distance
disappears with the lively chitchat
and sharp cluck of chopsticks reaching for food

because
family is family is family
and here with everyone is where
i’ll always feel settled
and comfortable
and at home.

This recent Chinese New Year was so precious to me – I saw so many relatives who I hadn’t seen in years. I realised my family had our own traditions; aside from the usual radish cakes, we pass the phone around when my aunt in the US calls, we crowd the sofa for our annual family photo, etc. I found that despite not having seen some relatives since forever, I wasn’t awkward around them – one of the reasons we are family is because we can be comfortable around each other. All in all, it was a really touching holiday, even if I am a month late on reflecting this. ❤︎

x. 

17, now. – you make me feel so

in the midst of it all
the loose leaf pages, flutter-by deadlines,
chatter of bilingual tongues,
and a sinking feeling so noiseless yet so persistent and
overwhelming loud –
i focus on you –
waves of clamour and chaos crash
to a slow, steady heartbeat, then:
silence.

a soft smile.

17, now. – nameless feelings

i know what to do
when my mind wanders to people and places
when longing fills my veins and the
lust filled rust filled knife plunges deep into my heart:
Just see them again

 
but what do you do when you start to
miss memories,
and how you will never experience them again?
this bittersweet cocktail of desire and nostalgia
spiked with something else
what is this feeling called?

Uni is quickly approaching and I’m getting more frequent bouts of this kind of feeling, whenever I reminisce the road trips my family would take every summer with my aunt and uncle (among other things). I took those trips for granted; I didn’t know any better. Only now that they have grandkids and I feel like my life is about to diverge off to a completely different path do I realise how precious this time was. :(

x.

i am not a writer

it’s been nine years since I started writing-writing, creativity spilling onto blank pages, lines and rows and sheets of blue ink the proudest achievement of my life. the joys of holding well-worn, crumpled papers were but a childhood novelty, and faded along with the rest of my childhood. i didn’t write afterwards. it’s been four years since i rediscovered writing; this time, i started typing-writing, my feelings spilling into pixels on a screen. jagged lines of black text became my new aesthetic. i fell in love with how i could make something out of nothing. how broken sentences could read so beautifully fluid. how my broken heart mended with the more sentences i broke. i naively thought, i can write. it’s been six months since i realised i can’t write anymore. words were the stars in the sky when my world was dark and when i fell in love again the streaming sunshine broke both the night and my writing. and so my broken heart healed and as i said goodbye to the hurt and longing i also waved my words away. i now think in feelings and colours and the symbol-numbers of science but not in words. i can’t speak coherently and i bite back all the different forms of words i want to use to express the same idea and i struggle to form a simple sentence. i can’t write anymore, but i’m sure i will find the words again, the precious gems tucked away in the dark corners of this new sunlit world.