Talked to Gen today, and we talked about quite a lot of things.

And we talked about losing ourselves.

I told her about how there was a period of time when I felt happy all the time, and I made myself sad on purpose to get back that part of me that exists in sadness.

The part that felt the most, mainly.

Last night, I felt a pain I haven’t felt in quite a long time, so long I’d forgotten what it was like. It was terrible, the kind of pain that crumbles you into a ball curled up in your sadness. It felt like someone was stabbing me in the heart. Just a sudden stab, and all I could do was breathe and clutch my chest until it went away.

Sounds like a heart attack.

I didn’t write about it because it was 4am, so I just slept.

I like describing pain. I guess it’s because then it won’t feel so strange, and if ever someone reads it they’ll have some sort of understanding on what it felt like. Pain goes away when it’s understood. For me at least.

It’s comforting.

I realise I hardly write happy poems. Just like how I hardly draw happy pieces of art.

Sometimes I feel like a different person when I write. I guess it’s just a different part of me. The part that’s serious. ish. Old, almost. I don’t feel like a kid here, even though I feel like one sometimes in real life.

Is this who I am stripped bare of everything? My brain speaking, without needing to be pressured socially, without worrying about what people might think, without needing to sound alright and happy, or striving to be interesting. Or is my brain just like this with a keyboard and a screen, with the need to put something substantial and forcing myself to write something decent.

I just don’t want to pretend to be something that I’m not when I write.

If it’s childish, so be it. If it sounds immature, whatever. If it’s filled with anger, or sadness, happiness. Whatever I want to write about.

Because I’m writing so that I can understand myself more.


Gen told me she really felt that this song really understood her. The lyrics are really quite beautiful.

Car Radio – 21 Pilots

I like how these conversations with people help me to go back to reflecting about my own thoughts after listening to someone else’s.



If it doesn’t break your heart it isn’t love

This is a line from switchfoot’s yet.

I really love this song, it feels like it understands.

But I’m not quite too sure about this part. I asked Joni about it and I’m waiting for what she says. Anyways, let me try to make some sense of it.

I guess it comes down to what the breaking of a heart means, right?

Just an emotional pain? Or the humbling of the heart? When you’re broken down and vulnerable? When you’ve lost yourself and your pride?

Jon foreman said it was a song about hope.

I’ve heard people say hope is a dangerous thing.

Hope destroys a man.

Things like that.

Unfounded hope, I guess, hope in the wrong things.

What am I hoping for?

And is it wrong?

Hope should only be in what’s certain, what’s promised, and the only thing that’s certain and truly promised is God.

His word.

Anything else, it’s probably toxic.

Wei Qian

Spent the morning with Wei Qian and she took out a box of her old dairies and let me read some of them. AND SHE NEVER LETS ME READ ANYTHING BEFORE!

Most of them were just about the things she did daily, and many of them were memories that I’ve long since forgotten. The fact that Ms Anita’s boyfriend came along for our class BBQ during sec 1, and how much I spent on lunch. It was really fun to read.

These kinds of memories are really like a good bottle of wine. The older the more precious.

I wouldn’t really see much value in writing down what I ate for lunch today, who I talked with, the places I went. But it’d be so cool to read that say 10 years from now. I remembered things written down in 2010, and “wow”, I told her, looking at the date she’d written down, “it’s been 5 years!”

Where did all that time go.

I read some things that were really raw and honest, her feelings, emotions, anger, hatred.

And she wrote about me, quite a lot.

I never knew she felt that way towards me, I’m kinda flattered but also kinda sad she doesn’t see what’s special in her. Even though I tell her sometimes.

She is really quite unique.

You’d never meet anyone quite like her.

Well, you’d never really meet anyone quite like anybody once you get to know them so well.

I should describe my days more often. I hardly ever do, I think.


Alone time seems pretty daunting now after all the days I’ve spent constantly with people this holiday.

And it hasn’t really felt like much of a need of late.

I wonder why some people just need to be alone sometimes and others thrive on company.

Is it in our genes? Or something we grew up with?

Well and there’s also the matter of what you do with your alone time.

I guess I just want to take as many opportunities as I can to be with people.

I dunno.

It feels kinda sad though, that I can’t spend a day just alone on my own without feeling a little lacking.

Maybe it’s something you get used to too.

I should be careful of what I get used to.


I wonder how it feels like to die.

A painless death, I mean. I don’t really want to know how it’s like to get stabbed right in the lungs.

The very moment when your body isn’t yours anymore, when the air in your lungs become stale.

Would it feel like falling asleep and immediately waking up to a dream that lasts forever?

Or would it feel as if you’d been drowning under water and suddenly reaching the surface for a gasp of air?

What would you wake up to?

Blinding light? A forest?

Would it really feel as if you were leaving your body? Would you feel as if you were light as air?

Haha. Maybe after being in another world, it might be hard to remember or imagine what being alive on earth felt like.

Feeling time pass by, always in just one state of mind. Feeling sadness or pain. Uncertainty. The idea of these things probably wouldn’t be able to exist in our minds.

Maybe it’s like the difference we can feel when you’re awake and about your daily business and when you’re dreaming. It feels absolutely real in a dream, you hardly doubt whether you are dreaming. But somehow when you’re awake, you know for certain that it’s not a dream. It’s a sort of consciousness that isn’t there in a dream. Perhaps it feels like that.

Or maybe we’d be even more conscious than ever.

Dream log #19?? #20??

The only thing I remember about this dream was that I was walking with Darren, and it was raining and he had an umbrella. And I was cold and shivering, he put an arm around me and it felt warm.

It’s a bittersweet feeling.

Yeah that’s the word,


Man it’s been so long since I wrote down a dream.




I’m not the most honest of people.

Why do I lie?

I lie because I think I know better. I lie because of pride.

Today I decided to drop a lie.

Guilt is such an important feeling. It sucks to feel guilty, but it’s the only thing that flashes at us when we’re speeding way too fast, a painful, beeping alert that something’s wrong. And wow, how much sin truly separates us from God. I feel it now. Feeling so ashamed, I don’t even deserve to be in His presence. I don’t deserve to worship or serve Him. Who am I to even claim anything?

Maybe this is why it’s so important to remind the people around us about how much God loves them. It’s really hard to tell yourself that, but somehow it’s different when someone reaasures you of it instead. And yesterday morning Joni messaged me how much He did love me, just randomly, out of nowhere, but I guess it’s not that random after all!

It’s been some time since I felt so, so small and undeserving and horrible and filthy.

It’s a really good wake up call.

Before the ‘I’ in me becomes too big and pride takes over.

I just realised that I can actually use this for cell this week!!!!!


Actually, being so caught up with protecting myself has probably made me forget to look out if I’m putting anyone in danger in the process.

If I truly wanted to love, I’d be the last thing I’d think of, right?

I have a feeling that love is mostly about sacrifice.

Well at least when you show it.

When a bit of you becomes less important and someone else, more so.

It’s when you sacrifice time, or money, or even pride, for someone else.

Sacrifice sounds like a bad word. You’d think of pain and stuff. It’s actually pretty strange now that I think of it. Biologically speaking, you know, survival of the fittest and all, love shouldn’t even exist. It doesn’t make sense. If the whole point of our existence was to survive, why would we love selflessly, or feel the need to, or think that it’s right?

That’s how natural selection works right, the strongest survive, they don’t give up their food for some weak species that can’t hunt for nuts (not literally).

I remember when I was younger, I tried testing myself to love more. And it’s like having two cookies, one slightly smashed and the other perfect. Inside, I’d be,”MAN I want that perfect cookie, and she doesn’t know that the other cookie is a bit smashed so she wouldn’t even know!”

And I’d force myself to give the perfect one instead.

It’s true though, even forcing yourself, you’ve already shown love by making that decision. It’s kinda cool how that works.

Love isn’t really that complicated huh.

Not saying that it’s easy.

It’s just not as complicated as the world puts it to be.