Tainted Snow.

2011-09-18T00:56:00.000-07:00

Broken.

in my grasp lies a tiny glass bottle, its thumb-sized body scarred with cracks all over. a glint of sunlight bounces off its wounded surface, catching the subtle shimmers of tiny dews of glue that hold those little pieces together. i'm holding my breath with each step i take, so afraid of breaking that fragile object cradled gently within my cusp, terrified by the daunting thought that even the slightest pressure could crush it altogether.

grains of fine sun-baked sands crumble beneath my bare feet as i leave a trail of footsteps imprinted onto the sandy shores. the wind caresses me with its ginger touch and my satin sundress brushes against my naked skin with a tingling sensation. i take tiny steps towards the vast azure ocean spread out before me and kneel down at its seams where snow white foams of waves leave their markings. I pop a note with "Stay Strong" written onto it into the bottle and bury it within the depths of the sand. and there it shall stay, untouched and no longer broken, i tell myself. slowly, i draw out my blade and carve "Pain" onto a twig. i release the twig from my grip, allowing the rolling waves to take it away with them, far into the distance where i will never see it again.

i walk away, holding on to the blade.

2011-08-18T23:58:00.001-07:00

Nights like these
She wanted to write a novel in the style of Jane Austen , a book of manners about the upper class, a book that had nothing to do with her own life. Years before, she had dreamed of writing stories as a way to escape. She could revise her life and become someone else. She could be somewhere else. In her imagination she could change everything, herself, her mother, her past. But the idea of revising her life also frightened her, as if by imagination alone she were condemning what she did not like about herself or others. Writing what you wished was the most dangerous form of wishful thinking. - The Bonesetter's Daughter

Taking in those simple, yet rich words striked a chord within me. It's as though all I have ever wanted to say all these years are compressed into that short phrase above, concisely written, beautifully expressed. That phrase reminded me of why I was so fascinated with languages, the reason I was so in awe with the power of language in the first place- the way it evokes emotions, touches a heart, solidifies thoughts, brings out a complex idea, or simply expresses a simple truth. Language is power, language is the voice of the soul.
I remember the first story I wrote when I was 8. It was about a fairy soughting true love by putting 2 men's sincerity to the test. It was definitely not an original plot, but it was written in my very own version, written from the thoughts of an innocent 8 year-old child who probably thought that the most complex thing in this world was love. At the bottom of the page , I even drew pictures to illustrate my story.
When I was 12 I wrote a short novel about friendship, how two best friends struggled the pysical distance when one of them had to move all the way to the other side of the country. A typical high school novel, that's for sure, but then again, it was written in my very own words, flowing from my very own thoughts and imaginations. There were no longer illustrations as I slowly learned to fully describe things in my own words, when I learned that writing itself is the most divine and silent form of art... perhaps that's how I came to realize the power of words, how mere alphabets can create an impact on readers.
When I was 13 I started writing about love fantasies. But I guess I grew out of that space of wild thoughts quickly as the challenges in my life began. At the tender age of fifteen, my love for writing peaked and instead of writing merely for leisure, I started to use it as a tool of my trade to cathart personal angst. Soon, plots of my stories and short novels became modified versions of my life. And if one day I were to publish my work, I would classify them under the genre... reality.

2011-06-07T19:59:00.000-07:00

Vantage point

i often have a deluge of thoughts festering in my mind, thoughts i would like to pen down before they drift away with the wind and leave me forever, but i am far too much of a perfectionist to clear out the mesh in my head to start stringing words together and put together a sentence that would be most perfect to paint out the emotions within. usually i would wait till i find some space of solitude to myself, but when those times do come i would have already been consumed in my own world, far too occupied by my bubbles of reverie to write about what is callously carved into the tombs of my reality... or at most times, just simply lost in the haze of tears.

i would sometimes lay in bed and stare at the calender displayed on the screen of my phone. it is at those moments of doldrums i would realize, with much odd amusement, how digits have their tell stories to tell as well. sometimes i like to close my eyes and come up with 3 sets of numbers- take a 18/11/2006, for instance- and immediately i would bring myself back in time, back to the day i celebrated my 12th birthday. i would see a girl happily welcoming guests at her pool party her parents threw for her in a plush condominium. at the pool side veranda her mother was busy setting up the table with pastries and desserts she prepared- cream puffs, éclairs, nachos and chocolate fondue to be complemented with marshmallows and strawberries and other fruit cocktails. the girl would then excitedly lead her friends to the plus- sized shower rooms where the saunas, hot pool and alfresco showers were. her dad would then already be busy preparing for the games. the girl looked so happy, but she was probably too busy being happy to realize at that moment just how perfect her life was then.

i'd pick another set of numbers- 18/11/2009. i'd see a girl waking up in her relative's suburban home in australia on a chilly late spring morning. remembering that it was her 15th birthday- probably her first one away from home, away from her family- she was eagerly waiting for her parents to call and wish her. she waited and waited, but the call never came. her cousin had already brought her out for a birthday shopping spree in Carousel, which she barely bought anything except a pack of brain teasers for her younger brother and some chocolates for her mother, and yet she never received that one call she had been looking forward to the entire day. night came and they had already gone home, to which her cousin and family surprised her with a birthday dinner and a cake. upon seeing the cake, tears stung her eyes. and that was when she began to wonder when she last had a birthday cake. probably in primary school, at that pool party on her 12th birthday. she wouldn't know anyways, it had been years since she blew candles on her birthday, after all. the call still never came. it never did.

im not sure if it is just me, or if it's something everyone goes through as they are growing into young adults, but this year, i keep reflecting back on my past. i keep trying to read my past like a book. each night before i go to bed, i would sit at my study and try to recall myself as a baby, as a toddler, as a primary school student. some memories would make me smile, some make me tear whereas some would leave me in utter confusion. but i'd never know if those feelings and emotions ought to be brought to the present, because i was so young back then. would i have recalled those moments properly? everything seems fogged yet vivid. this probably doesn't make any sense, but then again i never thought life made any sense anyways.

im not exactly sure where im going with this, i mean im supposed to be studying and not blogging anyways. but i felt this sudden compulsion to confide in my blog today. it's been awhile since i was last able to let spew my thoughts and emotions truthfully. usually when i write in this blog, only half the truth comes out, and then i'd keep the bigger (and more crucial) half to myself to weep over. you see, that's my problem. i can never really let anyone in on my thoughts. whenever i confide in someone, im like playing with strings, i puppet around with people's minds. so in the end, no one really knows what im upset about. because im afraid people will know. im afraid they will judge.

maybe i'll never really be happy. maybe im stuck with this pattern of life forever. maybe im meant to live my life this way- forever lost, depressed, confused, conflicted, tough on the outside, nonetheless fragile on the inside.

2011-05-08T21:46:00.000-07:00

Adrenaline Rush

perhaps my most consequential handicaps are those nervous breakdowns and panic attacks I get at the threshold of every exam. at such desperate times self- confidence becomes a term so unfamiliar to me, something never once held in the sachets of my spiritual possessions. on average i would have already done most of my revision, and if i were to go through my book shelves it would be almost impossible to find a workbook with uncharted pages. there on my table lies pile after pile of notes, scrawled with color ink and mnemonics and acronyms to aid my revision. yet, i don't feel a sense of security, not even a nuance of accomplishment to the outcomes of around-the-clock revisions. my insides are practically screeching the words of impending doom. it's almost as though my brain doesn't recognize the hard work and long brutal hours I invested in my studies.

i took a day off school to prepare for midterms (well, frankly, this is not the first of taking- a- day-off- school's this semester). last semester i took days off school because I had to either attend appointments with the psychiatrist or stay home because i couldn't bare facing my classmates after the sudden breakdowns or tantrums I threw in school. in the morning, i could barely put anything in my mouth. i felt like throwing up even before i had breakfast. i took a quick cold shower, freshened up, grabbed my books and started another study marathon in the patio. i started doing some questions on history and that was when i realized i couldn't remember anything at all. i flipped through my textbook and notes frantically and my mind went blank. it was as though i hadn't read anything at all! my body went stiff and my mouth turned ice-dry. i calmed myself down and started going through the important points, starting from scratch, but my mind was like a friggin' sieve. my brain could not register a single word! i thought i would get a cardiac arrest there and then. i had this urge to cry, but something in me told me to push on. there was a voice in my head saying: "well scientifically speaking, it is not possible for someone to 'forget' something. when something enters the mind, it stays there. it is only a matter of recalling. take deep breaths, and start again.'

i put on my earphones and followed my instinct. i went through bit by bit. and it was like someone had just hit the refresh button in my head. i felt more composed, and though still not confident, at least i was getting back on track, and not bawling my eyes out.

at least i had the courage to pick myself up, and try again. and suddenly, self- confidence really didn't seem to matter as much anymore. because in the end, i realized that courage and tenacity are what really make a person shine and pull through things, regardless how insecure they feel about themselves at times.

2011-05-02T03:18:00.000-07:00

Poison.

it's 5.30 in the evening and I am clad in my casuals- shorts and a tank top. I am sipping away at my favorite cocoa- coffee mix, devouring the divine concoction as the hot, thick liquid trickles down my throat and arouses an odd kind of happiness within me. it isn't long after I placed my mug down that I snatch it up and took another gulp at it. the process repeats itself until the very last drop. every now and then, I surprise myself by how hastily I drank. within minutes, I had every drop drained out of my mug.

and I want more.

I need more.

if eating chocolates releases endorphins, then coffee plays the same kind of trick on me, only ten times the impact. perhaps because i wasn't born to enjoy chocolates, coffee fills in that missing part for me instead. whenever I am wading through the dunes of stress, going through the downs, or just simply lost in emptiness, coffee becomes the best antidote. so what if it only brings me temporary, artificial joy that lasts with every droplet in the mug? as long as i get to feel it- to feel happiness, then damn, it is worth every drop, even if it's drinking poison, it's still worth it.

and this leads me to wonder, what if on that day, in the hospital, I had agreed to let them put me under medication- would I still be depending on my special cocoa- coffee mix to relief emotional pains? I'd probably need drugs like how aquatic organisms need water, it would probably be my source of survival, an indelible part of my life, something I'd depend on for happiness each day.

it's the start of a new month. looking back, the past seems so distant. the trips to the hospital, the counseling sessions, the tears, the wounds, the blood, the scars now seem like broken shards of glass swept under the table, cast aside and temporarily forgotten. but when you look under the table, they're still there, staring back with those cold, sharp edges.

2011-01-30T06:52:00.000-08:00

I woke up to sounds of the soft drizzle of rain this morning. The room lacked the usual lustre of morning sun. The sky was a brush of misty faded grey. The ceiling felt lower than usual and the air around me felt denser than ever. Everything seemed to be pressing against me- the furniture, the four walls, the ceiling from above, the floor from below. I felt a tightness in my chest as I got out of bed, bracing myself for yet another painful day.

Then on a whim, I swept everything off my shelves. I threw things against the wall and I broke a photoframe. I tore brand- new magazines and stabbed my soft toys with my blade. And then I crumbled onto the cluttered floor, dissolved in the mess I created, screaming into my pillows.

And I wondered how long exactly I would be sitting on the floor, in that pile of mess, until I could finally get back up on my feet again.

2011-01-14T00:29:00.000-08:00

12. 1. 2011

It's the eighth day of school. The day is normal, everything is normal despite yesterday's emotional breakdown. As per usual, I'm asking questions in class, happily laughing away at the jokes my mates crack every now and then.

Maybe I am laughing a little too hard. Maybe I am trying a bit too hard to be happy. But I continue laughing, anyways.

I start doing my schoolwork. And then I suddenly recall the conversation I had with my friend in the corridor before I stepped into class this morning.

"You should report yourself to the counsellor. She knows about you."

"I made a mistake. There's no need for counselling anymore. I'm fine now, really."

"No, you're not fine, so I urge you to go see her. She's friendly. She can help. Just talk."

"Fine I'll go," I said. I'll go to tell her that this was all a mistake. "Thanks."

It's break time. As usual, I don't eat. I head for the counselling department, that room with garish purple walls near the staff room. I wonder why they painted the walls purple. It makes it stand out from the other parts of the building, in an unpleasant way. People like me would want to go seek help silently, and not have the whole world know that they are on the verge of tearing apart.

I pace around in front of the counselling department. I look in. Everything in there looks depressing. They have over sized couches, flowers and some other homey decor that is supposed to make the room look cozy and lived in. But I think they are trying a little too hard. Sometimes, too much solace only makes one feel more uncomfortable than ever. And I hate those flowers. They are ugly, but then again, they are fake anyway.

Then I take a deep breath, and walk into the counselling room.

* * *
The counsellor's assistant came to attend to me. She looks at me... and then gives me a weird nod of acknowledgement, like she is somehow expecting me to show up. She doesn't even ask why I am there. Well, I guess when you find yourself in a counselling room, that only means one thing- you are in trouble and you need help. Lots of help. It's like an unspoken theory.

Not for me, though. I am just about to tell her how I came to clarify things. And I am sure that within seconds, I'll be skipping my way back to class. Because things are back to normal again, I don't have a problem, well at least not anymore. But before I can say anything, she brings me into a room where she produces a form for me to fill in my particulars.

"Dah tak yah... saya dah okay..." I begin. "I made a mistake. Hari tu memang fikiran saya tak waras. Sekarang semuanya back to normal. Kalau betul- betul nak jumpa kaunselor, tak tau nak cakap ape pun. There's nothing to be sad about anymore. Dah tak yah lah. Nak balik ke kelas ni."

But she doesn't buy my words. She pushes the form towards me and hands me a pen.

"Kalau tak bermasalah, takkan datang ke sini in the first place. Tak yah nak malu tentang kaunseling. Counseling is not a big deal. It's only about sharing your feelings with someone who will keep them confidential. Someone who is experienced and understands. Someone who won't judge."

"Tapi, saya betul- betul tidak bermasalah..." And at that moment, my hands fly up to veil my face, because all of sudden, I realize how raw and painful my words sound to my own ears, just like how salt is like to wound, because all these while, I've been feeding myself with plates after plates of lies, force feeding myself with lies.

Tears start welling in my eyes and my lips are trembling. I turn away from the assistant. In the end, I realize she is right. And so I fill in my details, reluctantly. I am about to tick the category where my problems are concerned. Wow, I think to myself, I never knew problems could actually be classified. My pen hovers over the paper for a minute or so as I contemplate which one to tick. I want to tick all, because it seems like everything printed on the paper in black ink is written into my reality in the same kind of black and white. But I end up ticking 'Personal', probably because that is the most inconspicuous category. I could have ticked 'Others', but an explanation is required, and I am not even sure if problems can be compressed into mere words.

2011-01-07T21:51:00.000-08:00

They were right. New Year's resolutions are indeed hard to abide by. Then again, all I ever want is to be happy again. How hard is it for someone to be happy?

I remember spending New Year's Eve on Mom's friend's 16th floor apartment. The view from there was simply breathtakingly amazing. Standing in her bedroom, the only thing that veiled me from the outside world were those huge glossy windows that stretched from the ground all the way towards the ceiling. Beautiful city lights danced and gleamed against the night sky which was streaked with eye- catching laser beams. For a brief moment, it felt like I was overlooking New York city, from heaven.

And then as the dawn of the new year ticked in, the navy blue sky seemed to have exploded into colorful rays of lights, fueling the night with life. The cars below horned their new year wishes to one another, be it strangers or acquaintances. On my right, cars stopped in the middle of the freeway just to watch the 10- minute display of fireworks. No one seemed to bother that traffic had come to a complete halt, everyone was too caught up in welcoming in the new year with their loved ones.

What made New Year's Eve even more special for me was that standing on the 16th floor that night, I didn't only see one, but 6 to 7 displays of fireworks from different places, all at once.The height factor offered me a fantastic view of the whole Petaling Jaya landscape, which edges were adorned with beautiful lights exploding and fusing into the darkness beyond. The fireworks, the city lights and the night sky all seemed like a perfect blend forming a divine conglomeration, and I got to view all those as though they were just a stone's throw away.

While NYE night worked its magic just inches away from our faces, my friends screamed and jumped in unrestrained excitement while I remained reserved and well- composed. It wasn't that I was not amazed by how beautiful everything was. In retrospect, it was probably because I haven't felt so happy in such a long time that it's almost as if I have completely forgotten how to express and vocalize happiness. Because I haven't tasted happiness in aeons, it felt as though I could no longer differentiate between genuine happiness, and feigned happiness.

Following the exchange of warm New Year hugs and wishes, I walked to the window and continued admiring the miracle unfolding itself before me. Without realizing, tears were flowing down my cheeks, staining that iota of happiness within me, taking away the very last rags of happiness I'd been struggling to hold on to.

And then I walked out of the building, convincing myself that what I felt minutes ago was just ephemeral joy, a mere figment of imagination my subconscious mind conjured, something not worth of memory, still less reminiscing.

2011-01-01T08:49:00.000-08:00

I once thought that personal success was the only measure of happiness.

I once thought that enjoying life was a crime.

I once thought that happiness was a mirage, an illusion.

I once thought that happiness didn't have a place in this complicated world.

I once thought that only success could provide me that much coveted sense of security in life.

In the dawn of the coming new year, I still do think likewise. But last year, I came to realize that should I have all the success in this world, without happiness, I am nothing.

And that's my personal quote for this post. "Without happiness, I am nothing."

I have my list of new year's resolutions, but the one at the top of the list? That is to be happy.

Be happy.

Two simple words. Words that hadn't defined me in awhile, words that couldn't define me in awhile- words I found it difficult to define.

I will continue to work hard in the coming year, do everything in my strength to strive for my goals, and at the same time, enjoy life, be happy and as they all say, live life to the fullest.

Because without happiness, life's just not worth living.

Happy New Year everyone! (;

忙碌了一整年，才发现随着岁月荏苒，我渐渐地失去了自己... ... 再也容不下快乐的我，心里总是一片空虚。新的一年，除了盼望能够心想事成之外，也希望能够过着充满意义，欢乐四溢的美好日子。

행복하게 되고 싶.

2010-12-03T02:34:00.000-08:00

I'm setting up a new blog. I don't know why, but perhaps it's because I feel the need to start anew with fresh hopes.

2010 definitely hasn't been a very pleasant year for me. The first three months was a chaotic journey of setting up an organization, the following five months had been a hectic schedule of nothing but the crazy rush for events and exams (I swear I was constantly getting July, August, and September mixed up), come October I could barely remember the days of the past three months and I was struggling with my studies, in November people around me began to realize I was suffering from mild depression and threatened to drag me to a psychiatrist if I continued my suicidal talk, and now December, I am all about starting over.

I don't have the directions, but I do know which destination I wanna get to. With no map, I can only follow my heart's instincts. How far will that take me, I have no clue. But I have to keep on believing, because I never know when a blind turn will lead me to a bright future.

2010-11-29T02:41:00.000-08:00

My nails coated in black and sprinkled with golden dust plus a self- drawn heart- shaped tattoo :)

Just got back from accounts class and I'm rushing off to korean class soon.

Will be off to two camps this week. Gotta pack tonight. So gonna miss the late night chats with nic! :(

Hell yeah I like keeping myself busy. At least I can keep my thoughts away for awhile, and be happy just once.

2010-11-28T03:38:00.000-08:00

I remember the time we sat across each other at the table as we waited for our coffees. I was flipping through a magazine and you were telling me something, something that made me giggle. You always liked doing that, because you said you loved to see me smile. You said you liked my dimples, and looking at them made you feel happy. I looked up from my magazine, laughing at something you just said. I caught your intent gaze. Just then, I got a paper cut. Quickly, you pressed a napkin against my finger to stop the bleeding. You cradled my hand in yours as you examined the cut. You looked up at me, and told me that the bleeding would stop soon, and that everything would be okay. All I did was smile back, not so much at your words, but at the sensation of your warm ginger touch. Of course everything would be all right, as long as you were here, I felt safe, even if it was just a paper cut. And then you leaned in, and kissed her.

You love her so much, and everyday, I hear you telling her that. You would hold her hand every time, promising her you'll never let go. She kisses you, you kiss her back, and tell her you love her. She screams at you, you smile back, and tell her you love her even more. But when you and I are alone, you would tell me how much it hurts whenever she yells at you. You tell me how painful it is because she always lets go of your hand whenever she is with her friends. And once, you even told me that if I were her, you believed I would never do such a thing to you. You said you felt like I understood you better, more than she did. All I did was just smile and bite my lip.

Whenever both of you have fights, I would comfort her, and tell her you were the greatest guy any girl could ever dream of having as a lover. I would then tell you not to hurt her, and to keep to your promise, to never let her go no matter what happened. Although sometimes deep inside me, I wish both of you never found each other, so that I would be the one you hold hands with, the one you have fights with.

You are getting married in three days. How do you expect me to feel? I don't even know how I should even be feeling right now. There is no word in the dictionary that is able to define such disappointment, such sadness, such confusion. Because two years ago, I fell for a guy who already had a lover long before he met me. And three days later, I know I will be loving the same guy, only this time, he would already have a wife, walking towards his future with her.

You said the bleeding would stop. It hasn't.

It really does.

2010-11-26T18:21:00.000-08:00

Insomnia.

I could barely sleep last night. I tried counting sheep, stars, monkeys etc etc but I STILL COULD NOT GET MY EYES TO CLOSE AND MY FRIGGIN BRAIN TO HIBERNATE AND DRIFT OFF LIKE IT DOES EVERY NIGHT. (I lied, I don't count stuff when I can't sleep. I just... roll around in bed, or stare at my pillows... in the dark. I only count when I do add math or math. WHAT DOES COUNTING HAVE TO DO WITH SLEEPING ANYWAY??)

Good news is, for the first time in two weeks, I was awake before sunrise. (WOW what a major accomplishment -.-). I ended up watching CNN heroes and Chinese News.

Bad news is, I feel like my insides are all upside down and I think I am going to throw up any minute now. *grabs paper bag. I am starting to have breathing difficulties *grabs puffer (oh wait I don't have one, I forgot. ) my ears hurt (uh, are they even supposed to?)

Why am I even blogging anyway. I have korean homework to finish. And addmath to do. And accounts to study. Screw this holiday man. *grabs a screwdriver

Something I did in clay class. Ignore the book, the black thing which is my phone pouch btw, the tissue box, my water bottle and the speakers oh and that grinning frog. I'm talking bout tht thing with the retarded bear on it. Of course I had to add an adjective to the bear, I made it, what did you think?

Little Boy: Jie jie, how long did you take to finish your project?

Me : *without hesitation. a few months. You? *smiles like a clown at him

Little Boy : One day. (same project)

Me : *smile fades off

Mac (my mentor) : hahahahaha.

Ok when I said a few months, I didn't literally mean A FEW MONTHS. I said a few months because I hadn't attended my class for a few months. And the last time I went there, I wasn't there for a whole day.

***

Anyways, now it's time I rant about racism. (using very broken manglish cuz I am seriously very worn out now)

As I said, I was watching the news this morning, and within 15 minutes my blood was boiling over some stupid racist news report.

Ok there were 2 actually.

Oh by the way, readers discretion advised. Once again, my writings are my opinions. If you beg to differ my statements, scroll your cursor over to the top right corner of the page and click on the X button. Thank you very much.

News 1.

Some stupid brainless faggot who happened to be an SPM invigilator admonished a candidate for being late for the examination with racist remarks. That douche bag is not just a well... douche bag but also a COPY CAT. He used the 'orang Cina balik ke Cina, orang India balik ke India' thing which had obviously BEEN DONE BEFORE by another faggot. Passe!

Comment: Ok first of all, LAME MOVE THERE. Be more creative abit la, why want to copy people?

Second of all, screw you lorh. What do you mean by orang Cina balik Cina, orang India balik India? Do we look like we have homes there? For God's sake I can't even stand the food in China! What makes you think I would even dream of living there?? And do you even know what is the meaning of balik? How can you ask us to go back to a place where we don't come from?? I may be Chinese but I am freaking Malaysian. Malaysia is my country and I am not going anywhere. You hear me anot? HELLO IM TALKING TO YOU. I am not going anywhere unless Jay Chou decides to marry me one day and I shall move to Taiwan to go stay with him. But other than that I AM NOT GOING ANYWHERE. Malaysia is my friggin home and no one tells me where to go and where to not go. YOU BALIK KE HELL LA. YES HELL BECAUSE THAT IS WHERE YOU CAME FROM YOU FCKING RACIST FAGGOT. HELL.

News no. 2:

"Ice Kacang Puppy love/ Chu Lian Hong Dou Bing"- local chinese film-is not getting back their 20% government tax as promised. Government's reason: Only can get back tax if 60 % of the film is acted out in Bahasa Melayu.

Comment: Ok la maybe if some other racist faggot said this I would still be OK but hello? This comes from the government. The oh-so-mulia party that goes all One Malaysia this One Malaysia that on us. Government, I am so sorry but I have to say this. I feel sorry that you guys are freaking pathetic tak- tahu- malu hypocrites. HYPOCRITES. Congratulations lorh because I bet the rakyat are laughing at you all now. See? No face already. Padan muka. Wait no face already how to padan muka leh? (sorry one of my lame jokes). So we speak Chinese, we don't get our fair share of rights? Funny how you all always say we are all Malaysians, don't live by color, live in unity, don't let colors, language, culture, religion separate us, don't blah blah blah FUCK YOU LORH I DON'T EVEN KNOW WHAT YOU'RE SAYING BECAUSE FROM NOW ON WHEN YOU GIVE ME THE ONE MALAYSIA SHIT I WILL CLOSE MY EARS AND MY EYES AND MY NOSE (faggots are ugly and smelly, especially racist ones). But of course I won't stop loving my country because my nationality is my pride and my identity for as long as I live.I won't let you pathetic fools ruin that. I just feel sorry that my beloved country is governed by a bunch of racist smelly ugly hypocritical scumbags. :'(

Two months ago I was dining in Summer Palace (Chinese Restaurant also known as Tai Thong) with my family. So happened there was a wedding luncheon going on too. So anyway, we were eating and the match between Datuk Lee Chong Wei and China's Lin Dan (by the way racist fools, Lin Dan is the one really from China here OK? You know how to differentiate? Don't know? Go die.) came on. So nice right. So of course we watch la. In fact, not only my family watched, THE WHOLE RESTAURANT, EVEN THE PEOPLE ATTENDING THE CEREMONY WATCHED AS WELL AS THE WAITERS AND THE WAITRESSES AND THE MANAGERS (I don't know about the cook don't ask stupid question please). It might seem like a normal crowd watching a match together but to me it was more than that. To a sixteen year old Malaysian girl who is by the way supposed to stop blogging now and get back to her homework, it was more than just a crowd sitting together watching a match.

To me, it was a symbol of unity. A whole bunch of Chinese people of all ages, uncles, aunties, all sitting together CHEERING ON FOR MALAYSIA'S DATUK LEE CHONG WEI. Do you see us cheering for China? China also Chinese what, same blood, how come not cheering for China leh? Why cheer for Malaysia only leh? Once again, we are Malaysians. Of course cheer for own country la! Cheer for other people for what? Must support own country mah. Even if it was another Malaysian of different race who was playing against China that day, I WOULD STILL CHEER ON FOR MALAYSIA. I bet we all would. ALL OF US WHO LOVES OUR COUNTRY AND WANTS THE BEST FOR OUR MOTHERLAND WOULD. Even if they sent a monkey to represent Malaysia and play against China that day I would still cheer for that monkey, but of course later I would kill whoever who was stupid enough to send a monkey to play against Lin Dan. So when Chong Wei won, the whole restaurant roared with joy. Proud and elated, everyone started clapping. I was so touched I had to turn away to hide my stupid tears. We were all clapping and cheering. EVERYONE in the restaurant. AIYA I DON'T KNOW ABOUT THE COOK LA STOP ASKING.

By the way, we don't have the same blood with the Chinese in China. We are Malaysians, so although we are Chinese, we share the same blood with the Malays, Indians and all the fellow country buddies here. Chinese in China will share the same blood with the Chinese in China. Singaporean Chinese will share the same blood with Singaporean Chinese. and so on, you get the drift. But Malaysia? Malay, Chinese, Indian, Kadazan etc etc. forever share Malaysian blood lorh!

You ask me to balik Cina one more time I swear I will kick you to hell. Back to where you came from.

2010-11-23T05:02:00.000-08:00

Just got back from the gym at The Club. I did one hour plus on the treadmill non- stop. I was pretty surprised, considering the last time I jogged was... two weeks ago. And before that... months ago. (Yeah, I am an abominable sloth) I thought I wouldn't even hit 45 minutes. I thought I might do something embarrassing like slip and fall face- flat onto the treadmill in less than 5 minutes and have everyone in the gym snicker at me.

I felt better, for once in 123456789987 days.

I felt as though I have gotten my life back, at long last. I felt as though I have pulled myself together, and saw that stupid spark in life once more. (Before this my life was all about darkness FML)

I sweat out my unhappy moments, and sadness that tears just would not get rid off.

And I realized how much I love blogging now, though my posts are mostly sentimental. It is like this confidant which I can open up to at the end of each day and spill out all my feelings and troubles. And not get JUDGED. (That is, except if you leave comments at the sidebar and insult my ass off)

WTF I miss Perth. My aunt just Fb-ed me today and reminded me that this time last year, I WAS STILL HAVING THE TIME OF MAH LIFE IN AUSTRALIA, PLAYING WITH KANGAROOS.

I miss that freaking plus- sized bubble tea my cousin, her boyfriend and I used to get on our way home from outings every two or three days.

I miss Mackers' frozen coke. Damn it why can't McD's here serve frozen coke?

I miss my aunt's lovely suburban home in Parkwood. I miss the peace and quiet I get there. I miss waking up to the sounds of her unpacking grocery. I miss the late nights I enjoyed with my cousin and her boyfriend. I miss yakking away with my cousin until 3 in the morning. I miss the lovely piano in that cozy room at the back of the house. I miss the slow and relaxed pace of life there. I miss not having to worry about homework or assignments (except theory studies).

Ok. Looks like I need another workout session.

2010-11-23T00:39:00.000-08:00

Deadly insecure.

I am feeling really crappy right now.

It's been drizzling all day long and I'm stuck at home with a flu bug and a headache.

I slept my sloths off. Cried myself to sleep at least twice and woke up feeling even crappier than ever.

My life is as sh*tty as hell now.

The only comforts of today is probably that cup of hot chocolate, a copy of Little Black Dress, a nice hot shower (my raspberry yoghurt shampoo smells so good I can't help but want to eat it sometimes) plus chatting with nic on MSN. She's the only reason I ever go on MSN, anyway.

And I totally feel the pain Taylor Swift must have felt when she composed that song 'Teardrops on My Guitar', because my tears were literally ON my guitar as I was playing it.

I miss my clay lessons. Speaking of which, I think I might as well attend the class later this evening and finish off that teddy bear box I have been working on since forever.

2010-11-20T02:59:00.003-08:00

我不愿意当第三者，只好默默祝福你和她永远幸福快乐... ...

What's with me and sappy lovey dovey quotes these days??

I'm not some rotten teenager desperate for love.

I was nvr tht kind of girl.

I don't need any stupid relationship, neither do I need some dumb childish puppy love.

I just want to get over you so leave me alone.

You make my days miserable and my nights suicidal so JUST LEAVE ME ALONE! :(

2010-11-12T06:14:00.000-08:00

Biblio- fever

Wow, I never thought I'd actually say this but I. am. gonna. miss. school.

Pretty contradicting huh, considering the fact that school is nothing but boredom these days since we're not doing much, wait we're not doing anything at all, to be precise. Anyhow, hols are around the corner and the thought of not going to school, not being able to 'bond' with friends and teachers during lessons, not being able to joke around with them, see them even, for one and a half months is just... depressing.

Yes, that word sums it all. And being that very emotional girl that I am, I am apparently very sensitive to that word. *clears throat (long story, get me started and you'll regret asking). In fact, the thought of Form 4 flying right pass my face just like that is scary. Yeah, time flies, I get it. But sometimes, I can't seem to accept how fast the clock ticks. Form 5, senior year in less than TWO months? I thought my Form 1 orientation day was just yesterday! As much as I can't wait to finish high school, I am certainly not ready to face the end of it.

Plus, the idea of being cooped up at home all day long, watching Gossip Girl, playing the guitar until my fingers become sore red and my wrist feels like it has wilted for good, pacing around the room listlessly JUST DOES NOT SEEM TO APPEAL TO ME. I lived on a GG- guitar- GG- sleep schedule for one day and my life is practically yelling boredom. And so I have decided to make sure that I keep myself busy until the start of next year by attending all sorts of courses, camps, vacation-ing, going hiking, ~~bungee- jumping, stalking Ed Westwick~~ etc etc.

And school's almost out so time to stock up those shelves!

A couple of months back I have been e- mailing Sharon Baker and she has ever so generously imparted her list of recommended- books. Honestly, the list is really long, so I have picked out some treats to savor throughout this holiday. (:

R.K. Narayan	The Painter of Signs, The Vendor of Sweets
Audrey Niffeneger	The Time Traveler’s Wife

Anthony Burgess

The Malayan Trilogy, A Clockwork Orange

Khaled Hosseini

The Kite Runner

Milan Kundera

The Unbearable Lightness of Being

Awang Goneng

Growing Up in Terengganu

Okay that would be enough for now as I still have my list of Chinese and Malay books. I hope by the time I am thirty I will be able to read and write in Spanish, Korean and French. Man, I just love languages and words. ♥ ♥ ♥ Through languages I get to learn more about people all around the world. Our language represents our identity, it is our pride, the thing which defines us. But first I have to make sure that I get rid of that weird banana- accent when I am speaking in Mandarin. I love chinese and I wanna master it so well that I will even have the guts to have a verbal duel with those Cina people in... Cina. == I love Malay too! But its such a pity I lost that Malay accent I had when I was a kid. I love Malay cuisine, Malay kampungs and the language especially. Boy, am I grateful to be Malaysian. By default I can already speak in 3 languages, plus some Cantonese and Hokkien. Sometimes I wish I knew how to speak Tamil too. God must have known I was born to love languages, so he made me Malaysian where everyone here is multilingual (: lucky, lucky girl.

I have already applied as a weekly- volunteer at Shelter Home. I am so excited, I can't wait to see the lovely kids there again. I am so looking forward to that Christmas wish list thingy my Samaritan mates and I plan to have for the kids this Christmas! Ok, maybe hols is gonna be fun- filled and meaningful after all!

Yvonne Foong is having a talk at Taylor's College Subang Jaya tomorrow and I am going to go help out. She sounds really excited about the talk and I am going to give her all my support. And right after that I am headed for a charity dinner my classmate's aunt and her friends organized to raise funds for Nasam. I feel so happy knowing there are so many kind, loving people out there, reaching out and looking out for one another. (:

I am all about positive vibes now. The door of happiness has opened for me, and I realized it has always been left open all along! I am on my way to becoming a happy and positive person, no more depressed, emotional, self- pitying me. It's a whole new spiritually revamped me now. Although I admit that somewhere along the road, I might find myself plummeting into the abominable abyss of depression again but I know God loves me and will always be with me, every step of the way. I will have the strength to pull through whatever obstacles ahead.

Smile, and the world will smile back at you, love yourself, and you will find love in this world. (:

2010-11-09T01:22:00.000-08:00

I stared down intently at my pale hand, focusing my vision on the indentation that ran across it. Through a thickening veil of hot, tangy tears, I watched as a fresh clean line of blood emerged from the cut. The liquid felt lukewarm against my cold, bare skin, running down the sides of my palm and dripping down onto the bedsheet.

This is wrong, a small voice whispered at the back of my head. You shouldn't be hurting yourself. This is simply wrong. A mistake. Love yourself, that's what you should be doing. I dropped the knife I was brandishing in my other hand and ran my fingers through my thick, dark hair. My head was hurting and my insides were screaming. A raging fire within me, a cold feeling of dejection spilled all over me like a bucket of ice, dry ice, a wrongly fixed puzzle of confusion- rage, disappoinment, devastation, desperation, rejection- too many feelings fighting for too little space, as though someone had jammed up a mass of emotions into a tiny jar, forcing the lid down when it just wouldn't fit, when it was too much for the jar to hold. It was raining outside and the mist fogged up the window, my tears fogged up my vision and my thoughts were all fogged up. My life was fogged up. I could barely see where I was headed. I was a mess. So what was there to love about a girl who couldn't even find her way in life?

Startled by the sound of feet shuffling outside my room door, I snapped out of my little reverie and made a beeline for the box of Kleenex. I pulled a handful and pressed them against my bleeding hand, grabbed up another few more to wrap up the knife. Without hesitation, I slid the knife under my bed covers. I felt like a murderer who had just done his dirty job and was now figuring out a way to rid evidence.

Had I really attempted to... ?

Suddenly, the past few minutes seemed so surreal, like a nightmare I had just awaken from. I shook my head, no, you are living the nightmare, I reminded myself, the past few minutes were just a pathetic attempt to escape that nightmare, your reality. A pathetic and failed attempt.

I was a sorry excuse for a human being.

I popped up from my bed and grabbed my medical books from the shelf. Stay focused... Life is all about challenges. Wow, as if that cliche would serve as some sort of energy- boost motivation. My eyeline cruised along a few pages of medical jargon I was beginning to get so sick of. I started jamming facts into my head, but it wasn't long before faith- that 'best friend' in life you want so badly yet who keeps running away from you- became a stranger to me again. And from then on, I felt myself plummeting into a deep ravine of my usual 'what ifs'- the mortal enemy you never wanted in your life yet sticks with you forever.

What if I don't do well?
What if I don't graduate from medical school?
What if I wasted ten years in medical school and end up as a nobody?
What if I end up cleaning toilets at gas stations?
What if I live a wasted life?
What if I disappoint myself?
What if I disappoint my parents, my teachers, and everyone who had put hope on me...?
What if... ?

It was that time of the hour again, when my head would go blank and all I did was fear. I feared the littlest things in life, when I was younger, I used to fear of attending ballet classes for fear of being looked down on- OK so I couldn't get my fucking legs to stand straight enough while I was doing pirouettes, and the teacher threatened to hammer nails into my knees, so my fucking back wasn't strong enough to support the weight of an outstretched leg suspended mid- air, and the teacher swore I was the worst dancer in the history of dancing, so I couldn't do grande jetes properly, but hey fuck cares, I was quitting this purgatory for good. And that was when the fears turned into white- hot wrath. I snatched up my cell and my fingers tap- danced on the screen as I typed a message to my childhood bestie, Natasha. As I typed, I imagined myself spitting sparks of flames. Tears continued to run down my cheeks. My veins were crackling with heat.

It was official. I had a problem.

I bet you are in your 'tutu' class now. Do me a favour. Tell Miss Tippy Toes that I hate her. I hate that bitch. Fuck her. No wait, tell her to go fuck herself. TELL HER that she is a fucking murderer. TELL HER that she just murdered a girl, and that the girl is dying a slow, painful death. She took away my confidence, something she STOLE from me before I even FOUND it. Now I have to live WITHOUT it, FOR LIFE. Do you know just how bloody hard it is to live without self- confidence? It is like living without a soul, only WORSE. So tell her that for me, PLEASE.

I slid my thumb over the 'send' button on the screen. Some chunks of text from the previous converstaion I had with Natasha popped up on the Social Hub page. I scrolled up to peruse through some of them.

Natasha: Gotta go now. Ballet. Again. Sighs, sometimes I can't help but wish you were still here with
me in the studio, dancing like we used to for the past thirteen years.

Me: Sorry N, but in case you haven't realized, I left leotards and pointe shoes for good. I already went
my own way, and I'm not turning back.

Natasha: How weird, I am still stuck in your past.

I chewed on my lower lip. "Well, I might have left the studio and those fucking pink shoes for a good reason, but I am still clinging on to that reason, the reason why I left something I learned before I could even walk properly in the first place," I mumbled to myself.

I continued with my studies. I read lines and lines of medical terms half of the world's population probably didn't even know existed as I forced in another chapter. But at that point, reading was more like eyes- moving- across- lines, something I was doing without the participation of my mind. The words never made the complete trip to my brain. It was akin to Patrick the Starfish gobbling down a whole bar of chocolate (with the wrapper still on), not having the memory of himself eating it and end up blaming his buddy Spongebob the yellow annoying sponge (I always thought he looked like a cheese) for stealing it from him.

Chocolates? Yeah, that is something you can steal from someone. Confidence? You might as well kill someone and wreck his funeral after that.

My cell rang, indicating I just received a message. I swiped the screen to unlock it. Natasha replied.

Oh nut, don't be dramatic. How could anyone possibly steal something you haven't even found?

I sighed. She had a point. She always had a point.

I went to campus the next day, eyes swollen and my hand heavily bandaged.

"What's up with your hand?" My peers asked, genuinely concerned for me. I glared at them, ransacking my head for a sensible answer. Oh, nothing, just tried to kill myself yesterday, that's all. I'm fine, no worries.

"I, uh, cut myself," I said casually.

And that wasn't a lie, because right then, they would never know if I had cut myself by accident, or on purpose.

I brushed pass them and pushed open the large glass doors that led to the examintaion hall. This exam determined everything, my career, my future, my life. I took a deep breath and stepped in. Just then, my phone rang again. I stared down at the screen. It was Natasha.

We promised each other to live life to the fullest, no matter the circumstances, don't forget.

"To all Final Year Medical Students, please be seated. Exam will commence in exactly ten minutes," the invigilator's voice rang through the speakers.

I smiled and looked up from my phone. Right then, I knew that Natasha was right. No one had ever stolen my confidence from me. Confidence is not something one has, but it is something one is. Be confident, and you shall be your own confidence, I told myself as I took my seat.

Whether I would do well or otherwise, it really didn't matter. What mattered most at that moment was I had found myself again, and knew I had a friend who would always be there for me.

2010-09-14T04:15:00.000-07:00

♥ Don't you just love bubbles? =D

2010-09-12T12:03:00.000-07:00

Pieces.

I know I have hurt you in many ways, but I was so young and naive back then.

Now that I have grown, now that I realized my mistakes, I am trying to pick up the bits and pieces of our memories that I once shattered in the past.

Everyday I am trying to be a better person for you, everyday I am trying to show you, through a million ways that I am already changing for you, for us.

But it's too late. Your back is already on me.

Perhaps the seams of our relationship will be left to last in the depths of permanence.

Sometimes I can't help but wish I never met you, so that I wouldn't have hurt you so deeply.

As the past fades before us, the shards of memories we once shared are taken away by the wind, and within me lies a kind of sorrow that can't be wept.

2010-09-12T11:33:00.000-07:00

Beauty. Passion. Life.

2010-09-07T10:14:00.000-07:00

Met up with a childhood friend of mine whom I had unfortunately lost contact with for a couple of years and heck, I have to admit that it's been awhile since I had such an enjoyable time. Meeting up with her again after the long split has indeed brought back a rush of thoughts and emotions, and seeing her again was like opening up an old photo album stashed away for years, its cover thick with dust and its pages yellowing with age. But no matter how old, how dusty it is, it is still that album containing priceless memories of us and our childhood, one of the things in life money cannot trade and time cannot wear off .

The memories I shared with this friend are special and long kept, not just ordinary memories you share with your high school classmate whom you have only met on your first day of school. This friend and I, we're both 16 now, and we have been sharing a unique bond for at least thirteen years. To me, the memories I have with her aren't merely memories or flashes of my past, but memories that serve as a reminder of my identity, elements that speak much of my roots.

Having grown up with one another, our friendship has indeed been through a lot. At certain junctures when reality kicks in and life gets in our ways, we are all forced to but go our own separate ways (there is no such thing as 'not letting anything come between our friendship'. that is pure bull. you want perfection? jump into a book of fairytale and you have your twilight- perfection at your disposal.) But still, our friendship managed to survive the distances nonetheless. Though sometimes I really don't know how is that possible, considering that she comes from an above- average family, living the high- end life, whereas I am just this well, very average girl living a very average life. We're two really different people from two really different worlds. How is it plausible that holding us together for our whole entire lives is the very same rope of connection? What constitutes this connection anyway? Is it our similarities? Or is it our differences? But I guess in this world, opposites attract. That's what makes us people, anyway. Different in our own unique languages, yet able to converge as one.

We didn't need friendship bracelets or symbolic materials of any sort to prove the existence of our friendship. We didn't have to meet up every other weekend to keep our bond strong. As a matter of fact both of us could be separated for 10 years, each living on either sides of the world without any means of communication with one another and 10 years later, you would see us sitting at a cafe, sipping our coffees (hers caramel frappucino), prattling away like we lived with each other since forever.

I liked it that there wasn't even an iota of awkwardness between us when we met again today for the first time in years, I liked it that I could recognize her from the back through MPH Bookstore's window from a distance, I liked it that she (well her back at least) was the first thing I saw in the window,I liked how that surge of excitement rose in me as I skipped my way into the bookstore, ready to pounce on her from the back like what I usually did in the past, I liked how she turned around and flashed me that all too familiar smile of hers, that same smile that I grew up looking at for the past thirteen years ...

And now looking at it again, it reminded me of my past, of myself as a child.

Nic, 2 years of life without you had been hell.

And today, just one day with you had been a blast. You reminded me so much of my old self, and made me realize how much I've changed over the years.

But most importantly, I realized that time and distance can never do us apart. (:

2010-07-10T08:50:00.000-07:00

Summer Sorrows

Sometimes I find life a mystery, a game which rules change every so often, a story of twisted plots, and ultimately, a bad joke. One minute you feel like you are at the top of the world, as though you have swam every nook and cranny of the ocean, and hiked every mountain that adorned the lands, and the very next minute you are beaten down six foot under, and you wonder what the heck you have done that made your world take such a drastic flip.Then you try to pick yourself up. You struggle. You tear. You're screaming in sheer agony. You've fallen a distance so great from where you were perched ever so jauntily once upon a time . You look up. And you think to yourself, 'It's a long way to the top, a long way back to the top.' Then you look back. And you see everyone catching up. You stop to catch your breath. And time catches up. Alas you decide that this race has to be continued. Although you very well know that there is no winning prize to this, no definite terms to draw the line between victory and failure, glory and misery. You still run the race, despite knowing that the target to it is a moving one. There is no certain point marking the finish line, nothing to constitute the game point. You still run, knowing that no matter how good you are, somewhere out there, there is always a better player, playing the same game.

A new semester starts. Sleepless nights entail the pile of workload that never seems to see to its end. Then come the around- the- clock studying. Bogged down by stress, you are at a constant struggle to find time for school and yourself. Then every week you are forced to face a legion of non- committed people who you are supposed to lead, or so you think. You try to gain their trust, restore their faith and knock some bloody sense into their heads why commitment is so crucial an element in the pursuit of achievements. You are in a fit trying to get others to hear your voice. But at the most futile of frail attempts. Then that bastard steps into your class, throws himself into a script- long speech that really is nothing but bull manure which sole purpose is to drown you in public defamation. His accusation makes the blood in your veins boil. You want to fight back. But remnant sanity holds you back. He shits on. This time casting accusations so fallacious that you can barely hold back from spitting blood at him. And before you know it, he has succeeded all attempts of ruining your life.

Then everything falls into routine. The academic stress, the overwhelming sense of failure as a leader, and the growing wrath you harbor for that idiot. It then becomes a weekly thing. The weekend comes. You open your e-mail in anticipation. Manifested on the computer screen are newsletters from the local newspaper, a couple of e- mails from friends but no sign of reply from your agent. You begin to worry. Is your article not good enough? Has it failed to capture your agent's interest? Anxiety springs to you. You pick up your mobile and text your agent. He replies, explaining that he has yet to read your work. You become confuse. It's been weeks. Is your agent not taking you seriously? Is it because of your age? The you remember the resume you sent in last year. With bitter certainty, you confirm the latter assumption. You flip open your laptop and open your folders. Some pages from Microsoft Word pops out, containing pieces of writings you managed to jam in at the desperate hours of your busy schedule. You shift your gaze from your computer to your schoolbooks, and then with quaking hands slam the cover of your laptop back to its place, and turn away from the piece of gadget holding your passion, turning away from your dreams altogether, just to get the bevy of A+'s onto that bloody report card that probably would be chucked away into the trash a few years down the road.

Everything seems to come between you and your dreams. Age, time, commitments...everything.

You ask yourself if it's worth it. Worth putting your childhood dreams on hold just so you can snag up that string of A+'s. You ask yourself a lot of questions, most of them unanswered. You then start writing a letter confiding in your friends, and that's when brevity is put to test.

It was five in the morning. I crawled out of bed, my hair overlapping in a sort of artful mess. I stumbled to the bathroom, bleary eyed and still drowsy from last night's sleep. The morning air was mint- cool and refreshing. I tightened my night robe around me, stared at my reflection and without realizing, a smile broke across my lips. I looked at that girl in the mirror, and suddenly it felt like the delicate threads of mist that wove the morning air had breathed a gush of confidence into me. I reached out and gingerly ran my fingers down the surface of the mirror. I told that girl in the mirror that she was beautiful, and she needn't let other people's words and opinions bother her. I told her she needn't have to worry, because she was a potential leader, ready to change people to change the world. I told her that one day, she will finally grasp a solid sense of authority over her followers and shape them to become better persons. I told her that one day, she will shine through darkness and people would allow her the chance to lead them towards a better future. I told her that she one day, would lead herself to her own future. The future of the fairytales she concocted and dreamt of as a child, and now as a teenager pursue.

I told her she's special and perfect just the way she is. Perfect with her flaws, her strength, her weakness, her courage of doing things people her age never dream of doing.

2010-04-27T02:29:00.000-07:00

I'm so tired,
I'm tired of struggling,
I'm tired of trying to explain myself to others
when in the end, people turn their backs on me,
and my voice goes unheard,
I'm tired of thinking I am all alone ,
with no one there to help me pull through this tough time,
I'm tired of suppressing tears as I urge myself to stay strong,
I'm tired of having to cry in silence,
with no one to share my sweltering sorrows with,
I'm tired of being screamed at in class, in school, and at home,
I'm tired of screaming back in my defense,
I'm tired of feeling guilty,
I'm tired of knowing that I am living in a bleak world of indifference,
I'm tired of being tired.

I am enervated.

But I know I must hang on,
stand by what I think is right,
ride along with the emotional waves that come every so often,
bear with all the pain and pressure
and brave myself for the worst,
as I hope for the best that is yet to come.

Although there are times when all I want to do is to succumb and give in,
a small voice in me tells me to just keep pushing on.
When the going gets tough,
I steel myself with determination to face the challenges ahead,
and tell myself never to let the venom of others affect me.

I will embrace my fears,
and never run away from them.

My dreams are still far from me,
but I will continue running towards them,
even though it means I will have to trip and fall and bruise myself,
bear the brunt of accusation,
and run the gauntlet of verbal attacks.
But never will I surrender to my fears and weakness.

Instead, I will make use of my weakness,
to sprout strength,
to help myself make it through the times,
to kindle hope in the midst of darkness,
and see the light again.
I will make use of my own weakness,
to cultivate resilience,
so that I can stand against winds, rains, and storms,
and continue this long journey of pursuit.

For persistence and determination alone are omnipotent.

If I should ever fall, I will always remind myself that
my greatest glory is not in never falling,
but in rising every time I fall.

What lies behind me I cannot change,
What lies ahead of me I cannot predict,
but what lies within me
is what strengthens
as I battle my way through challenges
- my soul.

"Grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change,
the courage to change the things I can,
and the wisdom to know the difference."

2010-02-12T18:35:00.000-08:00

Struggles

I can hardly believe it. A month has gone by. A month of battle against time, tears, depression, fears and denials has swooped pass me just like that, leaving nothing behind but painful memories that flame within me.

Still, I haven't gotten anywhere. Still, I am at square one.

Ever since school commenced, I feel as though I am running a race, a race with no finishing line to it. I have no idea who exactly I am rivaling with, or who I target as my competitors- for all I know is that I have to run the race regardless rain or storm, sunrise or nightfall.

The race just keeps going on.

Those sleepless nights, that unforgettable emotional breakdown that happened without warning in school. What the heck is happening to my life? What the heck is happening to me?

Is it the unrealistic expectations I am setting for myself? Slowly, in retrospect, I'm beginning to realize that I am less appreciative of my achievements, for I always hunger for more. I seem to be oblivious to what I have achieved along the way, for I am blinded by the temptations that lie ahead.

I am such a fool sometimes I feel ashamed of myself.

Last year, I aspired; this year, I have, to a certain degree, achieved a portion of my dreams. But still, I always think that what I am doing is never enough. Still, I am always feeling inferior in comparison with my peers.

I'm sixteen this year. And some time ago I have set a goal for myself that I MUST achieve at this age.

But with so many other things to attend to in life, I'm afraid time doesn't allow me to realize my dreams.

After the bout of struggles, here I am, still asking myself when will my dreams finally take off.

到了最后,

仍然觉得自己还是一只永远飞不起的小鸟。

2009-12-31T19:37:00.000-08:00

Last Walk of 2009

Just before the clock tolled off the final hours of 2009 and called in 2010, I took a solitary walk around the neighborhood. Somehow, the walk felt more like an amble down memory lane. With every step, memories of 2009 flashed through my mind- some made me smile, whereas some, well, made me decide that some memories are just not worth keeping.

If there were to be a theme for each year, then the theme of year 2009 for me would be a year of challenges that had molded and shaped me into a better person. Having gone through the many challenges, I feel as though I have grown up, matured.

Throughout the year, I have tasted the sweetness, bitterness, sourness and spiciness that life offered. I kept charging forwards towards my goals, dreams and aspirations, believing in nothing but only myself, holding on to nothing but tenacity, retreating to my inner self when I needed motivation, consulting my inner compass whenever I felt insecure and needed some directions. It was a year whereby I began to discover myself, it was a year that offered me a glimpse of a deeper insight of life.

I started to work hard for what I wanted, started to bring changes into my life; I started taking initiatives, started to take my first bold steps towards my aims. Whenever my faith started to shake and I felt like giving up, I would stop for a while and mull over my thoughts. Insecurity would tell me to back off, but determination would nag at me to keep pushing onwards.

Exploring myself is like a never- ending journey. I realized I was one who would easily succumb to the word 'success', but will never conform to the words 'give up'. I discovered that I am one who likes to be independent no matter what I do, and one who always tried to deviate from normalcy. I noticed how desperate I was to walk out a new path of my own instead of walking the path thousands have already walked, and I found myself striving and struggling to fulfill that plan. More importantly, I started to believe in myself more.

Attempts to succeed were made, disappointments were faced and achievements were accepted with glows of silent satisfaction. I cried through failure, smiled through success, but at the end of the day I knew it was the efforts I invested that mattered most. Success is a journey, not a destination.

Other than my courage and determination, my mental strength was put to an ultimate test. All year long, I have endured incessant emotional abuse, which no matter how hard I tried to deny I knew was indeed an underlying problem that began to insidiously take effects on both my personal and social life. Confiding in people might be the last thing I would do as I do not wish to be judged, but still it made me see who were the ones who were really there to wipe my tears for me, and who were the ones who would let spew acrimonious tirades at me before turning their backs on me.

Still, it made me learn how to forgive and forget, and after so many years of abuse I went through ever since I was a child, it was weird to think that some time ago I had already inherited this trait. "Anger is revenge taken on oneself for others' misdeeds; those who forgive is rewarded with inner peace." It was strange that I only began to realize I was one who never held grudge for long, and one who would just shrug things off and start over with a smile when all this while I thought I had a vindictive soul.

Nonetheless, it doesn't change the fact that the emotional abuse is still with me, slowly becoming a part of my life I am learning to accept since attempts of altering things were to no avail. My tears are already dried up, I am done with crying, I am done with telling people such personal problems, I am done with being judged after every 'consulting' session- I am done with doing things that will not do me any good. From now on, I promise myself that I am going to push all the negative elements aside and focus my energy on positive things.

Maybe no one will understand my feelings now, actually, no one does, but someday, someday people might actually understand what I mean.

2009 was a year of realization for me, I finally understood the real meaning of life. I learned how to see life from different angels, I learned how to attend to my quandaries in a more realistic and mature way and I have started to understand myself better.

Be it good memories or bad, sad or happy moments, this chapter of my life has closed to commence yet another one- the sixteenth chapter. I started out the fifteenth chapter as a frivolous and naive fifteen year old, but I walked out of it as a different person, a better one. Sad memories will be put behind, deep and meaningful moments cherished while lessons learned I shall carry forwards with me as my pearls of wisdom to pen yet another great and interesting chapter.

End of year 2009, I have set higher aims and more goals for myself, year 2010 is the year I will
strive harder to realize my dreams, and I am determined to make year 2010 the turning point of my life.

Happy 2010 everyone. =]

"Life is like a game of tennis; you cannot control how the ball comes to you, but you can definitely decide how you want to strike back."

2009-12-16T02:09:00.000-08:00

Heal the World; Reach Up, Reach Out

26th December 2004, a deadly earthquake of 9.0 magnitude erupted and generated the 2004 Tsunami, unleashing a series of fatal waves which plundered and looted more than 150, 000 lives, leaving millions more homeless.

May 12, 2008, the rupture that had hit Sichuan Province at a deadly magnitude of 7.9 pillaged the lives of 70, 000 people, thrusting millions of others into a deep gulf of nothingness. Until today, millions still remain buried in the rubble; until today, millions are still fighting against the lament and grief of losing loved ones, fighting to survive through a dire calamity of poverty, famine and agony, striving to see light again.

Every time a natural disaster strikes, I feel as though the world has fractured into a billion pieces, shattering the light that has once warmed the world with love and care. I always ask myself: "How is it possible that we're living so comfortably and so luxuriously on this side of the world when on the other side, millions and millions of others are suffering?"

Poverty is one of the world's major issues. I can't help but think how poverty and natural disasters mar the lives of the less- fortunate and how easily the less-fortunate slip into lost and despair, how narrow the path between life and death is for them.

It is when I realized that I'm living a truly blessed life with a roof over my head to shelter me from rain and storm, clothes to keep me nice and warm and more than enough food to get me through everyday life. The only things I ever have to worry about are whether or not I will be able to grab movie tickets for tomorrow's premier, or if I will be able to get the latest tech gadgets to fall into steps with the trend.

But on the other side of the world, people are dying of hunger, and the thoughts encumbering them everyday lie unrelentless within the questions of whether they will still be alive tomorrow, whether or not their perpetual sufferings will, with a spark of subtle hope, cease. With all this internal struggle, most of them are yet to have tasted true sense of complacency, and a state of peace of the mind.

To them, life is nothing but a battlefield.

And hence, I strongly believe that the blessings God has given me are to be shared and channeled to those who need them. Researching the natural disasters was a painful walk down memory lane, but just because I fear doesn't give me a reason to hide and escape from reality. And I can feel reality's calling. Who am I to pretend not to see their needs?

Having said that, my friends and I have decided to establish a charity club in our school. Through this club, we will organize charity drives and fetes to raise funds on the altar of providing the less- fortunate with financial aid. Our mission is to love, care and share, nurture and educate the young ones, feed the hungry ones and guide those who are lost. We shall bring succor to the sick and wounded, rekindle joy and happiness to those who have once lost them to the quandaries of life, fill the lives of the less- fortunate with altruistic love, and show them that hope is still there.

Of course, we're getting down to some basic charity activities in the country first, and then from there we move up. In my opinion, this would be a great window of opportunity for those who want to realize their dreams as young philanthropists.

So, to all benevolent souls of SMK BUD (4), lend a helping hand, join our club, sign whatever petition required as a prerequisite for the approval to establish the charity club, and together, let's make a change.

Leave a comment in the side bar or you can e-mail me at hazel_thz@hotmail.com

Constructive suggestions are welcomed. =)

Heal the world, make it a better place.

"An act of goodness surpasses a thousand prayers."

All glory to God,
Hei Zel

2009-12-01T19:39:00.000-08:00

Fyi: S.O.Y. stands for shit on you.

When I saw the sign I almost swallowed my tongue for laughing too hard.

Fine. You can't possibly swallow your tongue for laughing. Sorry, still jet- lagging. Coming down with major migraine. =[

2009-12-01T07:27:00.000-08:00

I can't believe this.

I cannot believe this.

This is the most preposterous, self- betraying thing I've ever done to myself in the history of my life. (Sorry, my words no longer make any sense considering my brain is now partially paralysed. But whatever.)

I have officially departed Australia.

This is a crime, leaving Australia, the best place in the world to go for world- class education, is a serious offense.

What I have done to myself is inhumane, and I am going to castigate myself for that by... uh... okay I haven't thought of a plan yet but whatever.

It is now 10 pm and I have been in Malaysia for 10 hours already but yet I still find it hard to get over the fact that...

I HAVE LEFT THE KANGAROOS AND KOALAS FOR ROTI CANAI.
(Dammit I am on blaberring mode again. I know it is annoying you, because to be honest, it is annoying myself, too. Wth did I just insult myself but whatever.)

The first thing I said when I got home was, "Can someone please switch on the freaking air- con?"
Then I threw my things down and jumped into the shower and went right to bed, crying. I cried myself to sleep because I had a terrible jet- lag. (Sounds dumb, I know.)

What was even more stupid was the fact that I packed summer clothings when it was only late spring. The weather there was really nice. There was lukewarm sunshine pouring onto our skins with strong, playful breezes to cool off the tame heat. The heat there was really different than Malaysia's. Here, the heat digs into your flesh and scorches your bones, but there the sunshine only rests on the surface of your skin, caressing it with its mild warmness. Nonetheless, the temperature in Australia went up for a couple of days, but thank goodness for the breeze I didn't die there as a roasted chicken.

Another 48 more hours or so before I take off again. I hope I'll be able to get over my jet lag in time because it is really killing me right now.

Now unloading my luggage of (wrongly packed) summer outfits and re- loading them with winter outfits.

Okay the only good thing about leaving Australia is that I get to go skiing on snowy mountains.

What am I talking about there is no good thing about leaving Australia! This is freaking torture! I have just thrown myself into severe depression.

Seriously if I don't stop blooging like that I swear I'm going to throw myself over a cliff.

Just excuse me this once. I blame it on my jet- lag.

Okay back to my normal mode of blogging now.

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My trip to Australia has reinforced my predilection for Australia. Australia is the place I want to be. I was brought up in an English- speaking family, spoke English my whole life, loved English like it was the essence of life and now, developing an unfathomable passion out of that language. It is an inexorable fact that I want to live in a place where the divine language of English is spoken properly with minimum grammatical errors, maximum application of vocabulary and exploited as the soul medium of communication. (Sorry if I sound oppresive to other languages but I am just merely expressing my love for English.)

Anyhow, note that I love Mandarin as my mother language although I won't say I am fluent in that language. I wish I could master the language well enough someday to start writing in Mandarin as I have discovered that it is a beautiful language to express thoughts and emotions and has the ability to create a strong impact on readers.

On top of all that, I am proud to be an English- speaking Chinese.

All I ask for now is to finish high school in Australia, and the rest lies within the horizons of my future, which is drawing closer as the clock tolls off the minutes, but let's just say I wish to keep the other half of my dreams discreet.

I was brought up in a fairly well- educated family with my parents providing for my every need. They lavish me with unconditional love and unadulterated, unflagging support for everything I do. Never once had they spoiled me as a child or a teenager; they taught me the true meaning of life, and that is to go after what I want, and not to wait for things to come to me. "You want it, you earn it."

I never liked shopping, and that is not because I am trying to pretend that I am different, but only because I am not easily deceived by fraudulent coveted items in the market.

I don't go after trends, I go after my dreams. In my opinion, clothes, bags, shoes and accesories are just peripherial objects of satisfaction one can get in life. They are things others can give you, but the authentic sense of complacency that you can get out of life is something that no other person is able to give to you, but only you can give to yourself.

I don't expect my parents to let me finish high school in Australia, but I expect myself to prove to them that I am worth all the money they are paying for my education there.

It is just the matter of time, and when the time comes, I will have already proven myself.

2009-11-14T04:32:00.000-08:00

Follow up.

For those not in the know, I'm abroad now, hence the lack of updates. Australia somewhat reminds me of Hokkaido where life seems to canter by at a more leisurely pace, unlike KL where life is a chaotic bustle. It's summer now where potential heatwaves are imminent, but weather here is surprisingly chilly, even during the day.

As usual, I'm always setting aims for myself anytime, anywhere. So here is my ascetic list of goals to accomplish before I leave Aussie:

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What the heck, I'm on a freaking holiday so scratch that list. Nah, just kidding. I can't live without goals. It's like trekking in the woods without a compass. I've made a mental list of things to do and unfortunately, studying is also on the list.

Australia is a great place to write. I'm going to start writing my new book and hopefully get it published this time. Who says I can't get people to buy my books?

"Success is a journey, not a destination."

2009-11-13T20:58:00.001-08:00

Land of Kangaroos.

Two words- abso-bloody- lutely awesome. Enough said.

2009-11-06T08:34:00.000-08:00

Ways to Boost Memory (not that I am advocating the use of this blunt tactic to trounce your contenders in exams. Understanding first... memorizing... aye yar we all brought up like this- what to do? Just read the post la.)

Information source: Just English

! : Please note that the veracity of facts below are not testified. C'mon, I whipped this info off an English- learning magazine! Don't ask me how in Finland did this topic find its way into a language- specified magazine. It just did okay, and now it has found its way into my blog.

1. Researchers discovered that the scent of rosemary helps trigger memory. Having learned this spurious theory, you may now proceed to rub rosemary onto your finger tips and sniff it at regular intervals while studying (what I really mean is imprinting carbon copies of facts in your brain)/ working your way through labyrinthine problems/ figuring out how the pyramid was built back in the archaic times/ ~~figuring out a way to hack into Bill Gate's bank account. Or you can also choose to shove a whole vile of rosemary powder up your nostrils~~

2. Berries are said to be good stimulators of memory. So, sink your teeth into a Bright Berry Blast Breakfast every morning to wake those brain cells up! (wth I sound like someone writing for a dietary column in Seventeen Magazine). Your Bx4 should contain one of these fruits:

Strawberries
Raspberries
Blueberries
Your Blackberry Phone (sorry apparently the berries have chosen to trigger my lameness rather than my memory)

(haha what the hell la.. of course it has to be berries right. If you tell me there should be bananas or papayas in your Bright Berry Blast Breakfast then I suggest you throw/ blast yourself out of the window now)

Note: Studies show that the elements in the pigmentation of these highly colored fruits help boost memory in significant degrees over time (boost long term memory by a ballpark figure of 10%- 30%)

3. This sounds daft but researchers also say that moving your eyes from left to right for 30 seconds a day also helps improve your memory by approximately 10%. (I am not skeptical about this one because the explanation kind of makes sense.) According to studies, doing so connects the left and right parts of your brain and this further enhances the function of the brain (good for inspiration (?) and higher level of thinking).

Warning: THIS IS MEANT TO BE DONE IN PRIVATE. PLEASE DO NOT DO THIS IN PUBLIC. YOU DO NOT WANT TO BE DRAGGED TO TANJUNG RAMBUTAN.

5. Working out helps, too. (EH I said WORKOUT not MAKE OUT. Now wipe that lascivious smirk off your face.)

Other ways:

6. Treat yourself to a nice refreshing cup of tea.

7. Include appropriate amount of fatty fish oil in your diet as it contains Omega 3 acids which will take on a positive impact on your ability to remember things.

8. Milk and yogurt are one of the recommended dairy products for memory improvement.

Now I can picture the biggest nerd/ kia suer in class rolling his eyes like some kind of sick moronic person, digging ferociously into a crate of berries, a large bowl of fish oil, a cavernous pitcher of tea, a super-sized pint of yogurt and drinking from a cow all while struggling to stay alive on the treadmill with his rosemary- tainted fingers stuck up in his nostrils at the same time. HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA gosh I am so mean but the picture is so darn funny I think it's giving me nightmares HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH okay you can shut up now Hei Zel.

P.S. Sorry for the outlandish writing. I just thought I'd alternate between formal and humouros... err, not that I have any humour. My level of retardation is taking greater heights by the moment.

The Battle Against Time

2009-03-08T07:25:00.000-07:00

Have you ever had those times when you feel like you are to no avail to yourself, your family, the society, your country, or even your dog? Have you ever been in one of those frustrating, but yet utterly depressing times when you feel like your life doesn't hold any meaning to it and you don't deserve a reason to live on?

Well, I'm in one of those times now. Stuck and stranded in a ruthless impasse with no way out, my life is constricted and restrained with exams and vigorous competitions, better known as cutthroat torment of human nature. But that's not the worst part of it.

The worst part of suffering the downhill of your life is when you see no flat landing at the end of the steep slope. You just keep going down and down and down, your surroundings a blur sweep, your heart a mild despair.

I hereby concede that I am a person who is very vulnerable to her own shortcomings, a girl who strives hard to achieve her aspirations but cannot accept a single defeat, a girl who lacks of self- confidence but yet still try to confidently stand out among the rest. At every futile attempt of trying to prove to herself that she is not just any average girl trying to blend in with her clique, she is faced with disappointment, for that is what destiny has set for her.

I also don't hesitate to admit that I have obsessive compulsive personality disorder. I don't often get along with people well, and most of my friendships often culminate in bitter feuds. I am a fatuous person who hates to admit that she is in the wrong even when she is aware of it. I keep biting on and insist that I am right, even though I know that I am far from it.

I am a self- contradicting person. I despise people who look down on me and often have an overwhelming urge to punch them in the face or kick them in the groin whenever they condemn me, be it my good friends or strangers. However, I look down on myself all the time, and that is just being my typical pessimistic self.

Like everyone else, failure is something that I don't opt for, but it is what I often get. Being a person who cannot come face to face with defeat, I cannot tolerate dashed success. I cannot stand the fact that I am not as good as my friends at every aspect of life, from grades to talents to personality; I am not even close to being a compatible contender. Yet, I still put myself into the virtual competition between me and my friends, ignoring the fact that perpetual failure haunts me at every battle.

No matter how hard I try to get my parents to acknowledge the painful situation I am currently enduring, they just don't seem to understand. So everyday I end up crying over my revision books, crying myself to sleep, scolding myself for my inglorious quality of being lousy at everything when compared with my friends, jumping at every chance to torture my brother with my usual trivial tirades for him as a form releasing stress and anger...

I am a vapid girl with a shallow mentality and a volatile personality. One minute I could be tearing my exam papers into bits and pieces until the ignominious marks are no longer legible and then consigning them into the trash bin, and the next minute my classmates would be listening as I try to share my knowledge about the global economic issues with the class. Trying because I stutter when I convey my messages verbally, albeit I am capable of jotting down my feelings confidently and articulately in words to paper.

I hate school, I despise the abhorrent teachers in my school and there's an overwhelming urge in me to hit them whenever I see them. I detest the school books and I loathe all my friends, my friends who are smart, perfect at everything and who ace at every subject. I feel degraded when I'm next to them. It's like they're the rich and famous, and I am the notorious vagrant.

I used to keep telling myself that I am a survivor who keeps fighting my way through life and that I am no quitter. But sadly, I've come to realize that I am no longer the girl I once used to be, the girl who would do anything, anything at all to improve herself, to strike higher. You might see me studying in the elite class with my head bent over books, my pencil working its way through solving convoluted math equations, my brain spinning as I compose my English essays interspersed with grandiloquent language without the assistance of a dictionary or a thesaurus... But what you actually see, is nothing but a living lie masking my true self.

Every time I get back my exam results, granted, I am the worst amongst all my friends. Face it, I am not a very bright student. Technically speaking, I am at the bottom of the class. The only vengeance I take on myself for being such a useless bozo is working up my tear glands again although I know that crying is not a form of medication that one can take for self- improvement, but it seems like it's the only thing I can resort to.

This year, I am endowed with endless debacles. I decided to try out for my school's editorial board-language department- with the requirement of a self- written article about the school's annual meeting. I spent a whole evening on my laptop giving it my best shot as I tried assiduously to come up with an impressive essay, spewing my piece of writing with my usual usage of bombastic vocabs as I did so. Finally I read through my work again, wincing every so often at a poorly chosen word, at an erroneous sentence, rewrote it over and over again until the serene complacency was implanted into me. The next day, I even besought the help of the best English teacher in my school to correct my draft. After skillfully amending the grammatical errors I made, she said something which had lifted the confidence in me.

"With this kind of writing skill, you are sure to get through the editorial board. Hands down to that."

It was these few words which had engulfed me in cloud nine.

Then with further thought, she added, "This essay of yours has gauged your eligibility of being in the ed. board. I'll just give your name to the chairman of the board to recruit you as a member."

With that, I was already soaring high in heaven, or maybe even the milky way, thinking that I had taken my first successful step of becoming an author- a profession which I had dreamt of as a child and which I now endeavor to achieve.

With the concrete results, I handed in my work with protruding confidence. However, I was thoroughly dismayed when my name didn't appear on the member list which I was ninety- nine percent convinced that I would be on. It was like someone had confined me to hell, only worse. I was disappointed for crushing my hopes, angry at myself for not trying harder, mad at the world for having to treat me with such injustice in spite of the efforts I had put in.

I was back at square one then, bawling my eyes out, tearing every ounce of my confidence and hope apart. But when I learnt that the head of the department was discriminating against sophomores like me, I was truly piqued. Discrimination is an act of prejudice against the civilized society. I had the malignant desire to rip the morally depraved head of the language department to bits and pieces, pound on her with heavy bricks, grind her into juice until she has no more head to become head of anything. She should just as well rot away in hell with her decaying moral qualities.

And then another window of opportunity opened up for me again when my school had an English essay writing competition. Despite the ambivalent feeling of vexation, dread, dismay and anger that was lingering within me, I continued to push on. I was quick to learn that the jury of the competition was the same English teacher who had eulogized my skills as an amateur writer a few weeks before, and I submitted my article with no second thoughts.

It is beyond my capability to capture the crestfallen feeling that had inflicted upon me when I wasn't the top three winners for that writing contest. Things brightened up a little when I was enlightened with the news that my article still stood a chance to be published in the school magazine, as long as I didn't get my essay back, it meant that it was chosen for publishing.

The thoughts about the remote chances of my essay being published for the public to view began to fade away as strong confidence took over. As the clock ticked the days away, I grew stronger with confidence... until one day, I got back my essay.

Fraught with the now familiar taste of fiasco, I officially denounced myself as a hopeless foible fool.

As the saying goes: foolish ones count their bad luck, but wise ones count their blessings. I don't want to see myself as one of the foolish ones. I am not concocting lies when I say that many people underestimate me, including those whom I am close to at heart. Nevertheless, I know that someday, I am going to show the world that I am not as useless as the many fools think I am. I shall crack free from this dark lugubrious side of life that I entail. They say that the biggest rival enemy is yourself. All I have to do is scour for the confidence which I had lost to the oodles of defeat that life has decreed for me...

-I can't run from myself for there's no where to hide.
If the door is not closed,
I still have hope,
To shine from the inside once again.-

_Is this really the point of no return?_