It’s been so long since I’ve found the luxury of sitting down quietly and just making use of this personal space. It’s strange how the simplest things can make you feel content, feel happy. Like in this case, a nice cup of hot tea in winter, warm and toasty in your own room. Everything is accelerating, and it really doesn’t feel like two weeks have already gone by. While being forced to learn new skills by living in a completely different environment, however, there’s a dull ache when I now look back at these past two weeks because I never found the time to stop and settle down a little to do one of my favourite things in the world. I’ve missed this familiar page, how letters form into words and words into (hopefully coherent and grammatically correct) sentences. Perhaps it’s been too long.. It’s always hard to choose where to start.

I first saw the city while I was still on the road not far off. It had just rained and I saw a rainbow over the city. Perhaps it was only then when I started having expectations of my new home and school. But really, I do need to ask myself. How often do I experience a good beginning? It’s winter. I got lost. I got discriminated against by another minority group. (I was only asking for directions.) And because I got lost, I had to wait a day for registration. :/ I don’t know if it was the really awful experience that day or if it simply was a case of sudden realization that I wouldn’t be home until more than half a year later. I missed home. Still do, actually. But people are nice here. Well, most of them anyway. School hasn’t been amazing, but in the short span of one week, it taught me something else. Humility.

It’s kinda like a back-to-basics situation. I’m back to learning skills that I learnt more than ten years ago. While I probably wouldn’t mind this for most academic subjects.. Let’s just say I miss secondary school days where I got to write essays, be it narrative or descriptive. On the bright side, I’m learning new subjects that I’ve never studied before. While I do wish that school could be a little more interactive sometimes, I guess it just gives me more space to develop myself instead. Honestly, I often wonder what would have happened if I chose to take my A levels instead. But then again, there’s no use crying over spilt milk. Besides, falling down multiple times in life has been a trying period, which taught me to grow up a little. If there’s nothing I can change now, I’ll just have to make the best of it.

Okay, I really hate how I’ve written this post. I guess everyone’s changing, including me. Perhaps I’ve changed the most or I’ve changed the least. But being here, it feels like it’s the little things that count. I really miss my friends and family back home and whichever part of the world they’re in right now. If you’re reading this darlings, I just want to let you know how much I love you. I may not be the girl who’s almost always free to go out anymore, but those places in my heart that you’ve been in are yours always. I know friendships are hard to maintain when we barely get to meet and talk in person, but I do hope that our friendships will stay strong. I miss you darlings. Hope you guys haven’t forgotten me yet. Love you. <3

She had closed her eyes, drawn into a spinning web of dreams infused with bits and pieces of reality. Her senses eluded her. When she opened her eyes, it looked like a whole new world. She didn’t believe in magic. There’s no such thing as time transportation. Indeed, a few weeks had already passed, like a bullet train speeding through to reach the next station. And now, she found herself with so little time and so much to do.

It’s a new year already. Has been for a rather long time now. She barely noticed its presence as it crept in, kicking the previous year out, racing with time itself. She hadn’t made her resolutions yet. Perhaps she should just forget about it. She’s not sure if she believes in making resolutions anymore. With how things have been going lately, she should just cross the bridge only when she reaches it. Question is whether she’ll even reach the bridge if she doesn’t know where it is.

Indeed, a new year brings much change. She’d never thought life would seem to warp back to normal again, at least on the surface. Starting school again would be nice. Imagine. To feel like a proper student again, to go to a normal institution. If there’s one thing she’s not going to regret, it’s leaving a sad excuse constructed with paper walls for good. At least she’s clear that she’s not going back there again.

She can’t deny that tinge of worry tugging at her heartstrings. She’s afraid. The changes are too big, and she would have to learn to adapt on her own. What if she makes one wrong move and the fire engulfs her, ravaging her world once again? Perhaps it would be right to say that when she’s alone, she just can’t believe in herself. Self-doubt, the demon living in the very depths of her heart.

She knows she can’t mature if she doesn’t take that first step to try, to fly. Close your eyes and take a deep breath. She’s going to make it. One day, she’s going to see that bright light revealing cards that contain stories stacked on stories. Somehow, if she could just believe, just reach out, just touch it. The train’s gotten her this far now. She can’t back down.

It seems to have been the coldest winter yet. Hands drawn to the fire, kept to themselves. It hasn’t been an easy year, has it? She had found herself questioning many things in her life. Why this? Why that? She had no answers. Life doesn’t come easy, does it? But perhaps life would be boring if it really did come with an instruction manual. Perhaps it would be pointless to try to make sense of life. Afterall, she’d just find herself in a quandary, a labyrinth of sorts. Who holds the key? She’s not sure anymore.

She only has herself to blame. Not just this time, but each and every time she fell down. She chose it. From the questions of self-worth and identity, she was the one who orchestrated the search, digging deeper, only to find hollowness and disappointment. Perhaps she hasn’t gone far enough. But a part of her wishes she could have saved all the hurts and pains and just lived a shallow life. Perhaps she would be happier then. Too late now. It only dawned on her recently that she had only actively tried to ‘find herself’ these few years. She’s always been a shadow. Voluntarily. She chose to hide in the light of those whom she admired, people whom she could look up to. But it was only natural that shadows get abandoned. No one really likes the dark. She wasn’t sure if she liked it herself.

It’s far too late for regrets since nothing can be changed anymore. At least, not those involving the past, and perhaps those involving the present. But she’s doing all she can now to stay afloat. Gripping on to that chance of salvation. Her hands are bleeding, dripping hot red flecks on the cold white frost. Winter was never her season. If only it would end soon. She had to wait. And it was, most likely, a really long one. Patience was never her virtue. She’s going to have to try hard on this one.

It’s not like she’s oblivious to her surroundings. She can see clearly, even when she’s underwater. It’s just that she can’t help herself acting in such a way, her body’s natural defence. And perhaps the fact that she’s helpless just makes her more disgusted at herself.

She hates who she’s become. She’s a real coward, only knowing how to hurt herself, pushing others away in the process, fearing that she’ll hurt them too. She’s only hurting herself, and perhaps those who love her as well. She’s a nervous wreck, each tiny ripple amplifying into a tidal wave, breaking her apart. She’s so easily shaken now, it’s as if she could fall apart any time. She’s fallen to the depths, unable to recall how to believe, how to have hope and faith. She doesn’t know what to think. She hates who she’s become.

She misses the real her. Perhaps not all is lost, perhaps the real her is locked up somewhere inside. And that’s where she starts faltering again. Who is the real her? What is she like? It feels like a riddle that she can’t seem to find an answer to. She had once believed in herself, that she could touch the sky if she wanted to. She had once been optimistic, bouncing back again from her sad times in a matter of hours. She had once trusted people so easily, that as long as she treated them sincerely, they would see her for who she really is. She misses the girl who had not been exposed to so many complications. She misses the girl who had been locked away safely sometime when the earth started trembling, threatening to crack open and swallow her whole. She misses the girl she had once been. She misses the real her.

Perhaps some time away would truly be good for her. It’s 7 in the morning, and she hasn’t fallen asleep yet. Not yet, she can’t. Too many things plaguing her sorry little mind. Perhaps she shan’t sleep today. At least, not until she gets on the plane later. But she can’t help but see herself on the plane, still unable to sleep. She’d probably be staring out the window looking at the clouds. And she would probably be thinking of how she wished that her troubles would be swept away with the wind, high up in the sky. She’ll keep silent, but she’ll be wishing for that little girl to return again, to teach her to be strong. Perhaps one day, she’ll be able to smile genuinely again.

“While I breathe, I hope.”

A guessing game. Perhaps she should really stop relying on her own intuition, because it never really works out in the end. She was fairly competent in certain things, but at this game of chess, it felt as if she was going to lose entirely. She’s advanced rapidly, but each time her turn ends, she can’t help but feel as if she’s going nowhere. Every other chess piece is too tall, blocking her view of her goal. She had always believed that her allies would be there for her, and she likes to believe that she still believes in that. But the battle of wits had been going on for far too long, and tension ran like a taut wire in the air as choices become more difficult to make. Most of the time, this battleground felt like a plain sheet of paper covering the landmines that lay sleeping beneath of out sight. It was as if one tiny wrong move could heat things up a whole lot. Unable to advance or retreat smoothly, she was afraid. She was going to have to make decisions soon. And perhaps that was what she was afraid of. She was afraid of life in itself.

Everyone’s telling her to pray. She keeps quiet each time they say that, for there was nothing to say.

She has shut the door, withdrawing back into her shell. It’s safer here; Within these four walls. In this cage of her own, she’s free to be herself, to lose herself. Outside, she can only keep a straight face and act aloof. It’s not like her to be that way. But somehow, even though she kept interactions with those people to a bare minimum, her heart had turned cold. Their words scalded her, and their silence froze her. The world outside doesn’t seem pretty anymore now that her vision’s blurred with her tears.

Everyone’s telling her to pray. What can she say?

She feels like another person once she steps out that door. Someone who couldn’t be bothered about the world because the world couldn’t be bothered about her. No, she needs to correct herself each time. That is not the world. That is a nightmare she wishes to wake up from each painful minute surrounded by those fake paper walls which divulge the dark secrets of the hearts of others. She wonders if there’s anyone who can save her. Perhaps there’s no one.

Everyone’s telling her to pray. But how can she bring herself to when she’s forsaken her faith?

People seem to be hurting everywhere, be it in school, at home, and even in church. Is it really human nature to hurt others for our own selfish reasons? Perhaps. Perhaps that’s why wars occur, why people discriminate, why relationships fall apart. She knows she’s the only one who can pick herself up. But her emotions are becoming a drug, coursing through her system. She’s used to crying, and perhaps she doesn’t want to stop. It’s her only release. Telling those who care would only hurt them, and in turn, hurt herself. Yes, she admits it. She’s selfish. And insanity is flooding her mind. Sometimes, she doesn’t want the pain to stop. It makes her feel alive. It sounds pathetic, but it’s good enough for her.

Everyone’s telling her to pray. She wants to, but she feels as if she can’t believe in God right now.

It’s tiring. She knows. She’s bringing it on herself, allowing those hidden daggers to cut right through her skin, the poison trickling in slowly, taunting her. But she can’t be someone she doesn’t admire. She can’t block out everyone because she can’t blame them for the cruel things they think. She knows who she is and she is not who they think she is. But perhaps she’s accepted that this is what humans are best at. Hurting. Everything feels so ridiculous right now. She’s floating in the air, but there’s no air around her. A void. Like her heart. Something’s missing, but she’s not sure if she wants it back.

Everyone’s telling her to pray. She just wants to be alone.

The machine had been unstable for a long time now, its mechanics breaking down in part every now and then. It was a wonder why it hadn’t been thrown away yet, for it was probably going to break down at any time. More often than not, the machine chose to hide in a corner, feeling its fuel pumping through the system. And sometimes, certain thoughts prick its mind like sharp blades, not leaving a trace of when it enters and leaves. It could imagine itself breaking down very well. It could see the fuel flowing out through a punctured tube. Perhaps it would be repaired by some kind soul in the form of its creators and fellow workers. But deep inside, it knew. It was difficult to be fixed, because no one could fix the root of the problem. A dull emptiness resided in place of where a heart should be, like a cold wind in the middle of winter. A haunting loneliness that made it feel as if winter would never end. And as it sat in its corner trying to tell itself that everything would be okay in the end, it couldn’t help but tear a little as the water condensed on its cool metallic face. It seems to be a game of endurance and the machine could only hope that it would hold out until this nightmare is over.

It’s usually in the middle of the night, when your eyes are long accustomed to the darkness, and the darkness creeps in silently into your system. It’s usually at such a quiet time, when the clock seems to stop, and scary thoughts plague your mind. It’s usually in this state of mind of insanity, when your heart goes dead, and you feel empty inside. Sometimes, you just wish that you could die.

She’s a coward, keeping her emotions inside, afraid to show others what is on her mind. But an empty shell can only hold so much, and when the pain overtakes her, she crashes like the waves, beating rashly on the shore. And when the fire has died out from her eyes, she falls limp, a rag doll consigned to her fate. Many times a day, thoughts creep into her mind. Of cutting. Of dying. As she looks at her bare hands, she is tempted to try. Because she’s desperate to find a way to make the pain go away. But she’s a coward. She’s not afraid of dying. She’s afraid of descending into flames that would never stop holding her. She’s afraid she wouldn’t make it to a safe sanctuary. That’s why she’s afraid to let everything go. Even as insanity eats her soul up inside, she feels as if she’s fading away, little by little. Slowly, she’ll corrode alongside the hands of time.

People with faceless masks shifting in and out like sand in an hourglass, sliding back and forth. Without a real destination in mind, they were aimless. In the course of carrying these masks, their ambitions had been forsaken, stepping into a lunatic’s game of ‘dog eats dog’. Splatters of red turning patchy on those plain white tees. Innocence masked by the bitter taste of bloodthirst. They chose their opponents carefully; Those who strayed from the herds were the easiest targets, the first to go. Perhaps you could follow ‘When in Rome do as the Romans do’, but when you try it here, you’ll realise that you die a little bit from each battle, the pain eating you up from inside. It doesn’t mean that you won’t die when you join the pack for the kills. It only reflects your futile attempts to stay alive. Indeed, you’ll still die. We’re not immortal. We all die anyway. Do you really want to let your soul slowly rot away, cloaking you in a foul smell which can only be hidden by the blood of others? It’s pathetic. But many have fallen, overtaken by the darkness cast in the shadow of their eyes. Perhaps it helps them cope with their pain a little by seeing others suffer so much more. A mechanical world with red skies and occasional thunder. When will this rain stop?

A quickening of her heartbeat. It captivated her, as if a million jolts of electricity were running down her spine. It connected her; It made her breathe; It made her feel whole again. The lights, the sounds, the movement. It caught her attention and she just couldn’t look away, even for a moment. She didn’t want to. And the moment the curtains fell and the magic left the place, she could still feel herself shivering a little. It impacted her, rippling through her like tiny waves crashing on the shore. And even as she went back that night, she found herself replaying every bit of detail that she had scratched into memory, reliving the beauty of its extravagant flair.

Her anticipation of the musical was probably only around 50% as she waited around with her parents for the show to start. Too many people in that tiny shopping location with far too many exquisite shops and people who didn’t fit into the picture. Indeed, such an expensive location, and she could see shorts and slippers running around the place. She felt a dull ache as she tried to remember what it was like. Her first love. The theatre. It sometimes pained her when she observed people going in as if they were dressed to sit in a coffee shop watching football matches. Nothing wrong with that. She just wished people respected such a sacred place more. It had been far too long and she had long forgotten what everything felt like. That love for theatre, that embracing of the culture. It had all simply faded away to a mere entertainment program. Perhaps, in terms of respect for the theatre, she wasn’t any better than the rest at all. She laughed, a cold chill creeping in. Of course she wasn’t any better. She had never really felt ‘better’ at this dismal point in her life anyway.

But as the audience were seated and the lights were dimmed, the first note was sung and the musical had began, she felt a tugging at her heartstrings. Perhaps that love had never really gone away after all. As she watched the first scene, she took in the costumes, the lights, the sounds, the movements, everything. She started noticing things that she used to overlook before. And without her realization, she began to tear. She was touched. Every single detail had so much to tell of the efforts put into crafting the characters, making them come alive. That positive attitude that brimmed with the vibrancy and passion for the arts was the most touching scene she had ever witnessed. Every muscle that rippled with energy, every expression that invoked emotions so strong, every word that resounded with conviction. She had to admit, it was the best musical she had ever watched.

It wasn’t just a musical, actors and actresses moving on stage delivering lines, belting out songs and dancing. It was a personal experience that caused her to reflect on much of her life. As the scenes played out one by one, she could relate to it with the different points that she had faced or was facing in life. It struck her like a chord, and she could almost feel her heart singing out with it. She had watched the movie countless times as a kid, but with this, it seems to have taken on a whole new meaning of its own. She could relate to the characters, feeling how they felt. Such was the power of the theatre, causing her to be brought into that magical world where fantasy abounds.

Although, she had to admit. After the musical, she felt rather ashamed. Drama was something that she had loved so very much, even as a little kid in kindergarten. But she never did well in it, in all those years in drama clubs in her schools. And that night, she realized why. She had been afraid. She locked herself up, carefully crafting her own boundaries which limited even her own movement. She had been afraid to lose herself in the character, in the story. And she had never given it her best shot. It seems a little too late to try and pursue something so distant and unfamiliar now. But at the very least, she’s learnt to appreciate these things a little better now. It gave her hope and courage. And perhaps one day, she may find herself on her own kind of stage, doing what she’s doing now but professionally, and someday, she’s going to shine. She’ll find a way. Because dreams can become a reality. And life is full of miracles.