Yesterday my BFF alerted me to the fact that my blog still exists!

So I revisited it, and spent a loooong time going through my archives. It's so fascinating, reading this memoir, some dusty online version of your life told in first person, familiar yet unfamiliar, as if the writer wasn't really you but an old friend you'd outgrown some years ago. (What's more, these posts are riddled with secrets and quotes and lyrics that only I understand, like this mystery biographer had left them to tease me, knowing all along that I would turn back and read those words again and relive those emotions.) The things you lamented over now seem so trivial, or distant. I had to try hard to reignite the same passions that I had at the time, see through the eyes of seventeen year old me and feel her, like a ghost from the past, flow through the many angst-ridden posts on this blog, and failed most of the time. It's almost like hearing your voice recorded, playing it back and thinking "shit, do I really sound like that?" Is that really my voice? Were these really my thoughts?

I think it's safe to say that I've grown a lot, and if anything, this online journal documents the maturation of my thought and (hopefully) gaining of some sensibility. They prove the shifting priorities and ideals in my life as they align more with reality as time goes by. They are evidence of mistakes that I had made, accounts of mistakes I will not make again. They are triggers, emblems if you will, of sharp pain, infinite sadness, quiet comfort, through powerful words laced with sentiment. More importantly, they are reminders that the person I am right now came from the person I was then- that she is residing somewhere within me, and that some things don't really change.

In fact, in some posts, it's as if she'd left a message for Present me.

"Monday, May 10, 2010 /331

You're so good at being broken that you don't mind not getting fixed.

I love non-pill weeks (:

Safe to say, I've gotten through Prelims, more or less. If you ignore Chem MCQ. (I am ignoring Chem MCQ.) Bah I do not like this feeling of not knowing what to do. I should study, that's what.



Everyone should take an afternoon off just to write letters to people of their past. People who've dropped out of our lives somewhere along the way for whatever reason, unpleasant or not. Could be the first friend you made in primary school, the best friend who transferred schools, the first boy to break your heart, the clique you fell out with, the parent who left when you were just 10, whoever. We should just sit down and think hard about everything we'd wanna say to each person, or what we didn't get to say to the person.

Tell them how you've been, what has changed since you last spoke (have you changed?), ask how they've been, too. Feel free to indulge in nostalgia (that's the whole point, isn't it), talk about old times and what you did together (remember the time we all got lost in town, remember when we stayed up til 6am just talking, remember the hot chocolate in the plastic cup that kept us warm in the freezing winter), the good times especially. Remind them of what they'd meant to you at that point in time, perhaps question what you meant to them. Do they still mean that to you now? Maybe writing that note may give you some answers.

You don't actually have to give them the letters. It's really more for ourselves. When we write to people of the past, we're really just trying to resurrect the Me of the past. We're writing to who they were then (not who they are now), and we're writing on behalf of the persons we had been then. I guess different people who feature in our lives remind us of versions of ourselves we either long to be again, or hate bitterly. (Probably why we avoid certain people, or run away, or are awkward around. It's not so much of we dislike them or are afraid of them, but rather we despise who we were when we were with them.)

Write this letter to tell whoever it is, (but mainly yourself) what you would've done differently if you had the chance. Who you would have been instead. And question if you're that person now.


Everything seems prettier and happier when we look back. We always shut out the terrible memories and choose to keep the ones that don't hurt. The ones in which we didn't hurt anyone, either.

Dear Debbie, yours was the hardest to write.


My old clothes don't fit like they once did
So they hang like ghosts of the people I've been

I wake up, shaken from the first bad dream of many to come.

The walk across the hall is short, but I stumble my way through the darkness to the other side. I hear my mother's breathing, a soft sigh with every exhalation as I ease the door open, and sneak into her bed. I am careful, but the shuffle of the covers still causes her to stir. Staying completely still, I hold my breath. She remains asleep. I lie there next to her for a while, admiring her grace and serenity. Then I reach over and gingerly stroke her porcelain skin; it radiates warmth, and the scent of her moisturising lotion. The first traces of light graze her face, eyes pressed gently, lips curled in an almost smile. Her soft fine hair, spruced against her pillow. I am thinking that she is the most beautiful woman in the world. I wonder if my dad ever did this- watch her sleep. Watch her eyes occasionally flicker under those lids, now creased ever so slightly around the edges, once perfect, still perfect. Memorise the way her skin feels early in the morning. (How different it is from in the day.) Smile as she pulls the blankets around her.




I've decided that I'm never ever gonna get a king-sized bed D: it's so big and so lonely. And not economical at all. Seriously. I think I'm gonna make lots of economic sense and get one of those beds that you can fold into the walls. OR, OR, GET A NARNIA BED!!! Like y'know, the kind hidden in the wardrobes, then when you open the doors it'll be like HOLYSHITIZZABED! Omg furnituring my house is gonna be so much funnnn :D Limqian shall be my architect and he shall design my Narnia bed too heheheheh future plans FTW!

Also, I foresee myself getting hungry a lot ):




Just another unhappy ending

Why are people intentionally self-destructive?

I used to think it was just a way of people often driven to desperation to connect to others. Meaning that the desired effect is not the physical injury (they probably still want to live their lives whole and perfect) but the attention gained from such acts. Afterall, isn't it innate that we require attention and interaction with other humans to survive? Newborns die if not held or touched. Man needs the opposite gender to proliferate. We are The Animal That Speaks. Without communication in the early years, a child fails to ever properly develop to its full mental capacity and is permanently handicapped. Most importantly it is our lack of ability to ever achieve self-sufficiency (given a scenario say of a man alone in the wilderness, even if he possessed skills and means to protect himself, hunt and gather etc, the stress of being on constant alert to stay alive if prolonged would cause irreversible psychological damage) that requires human companionship or at the very least interaction to live.

Modern day life dictates that human interaction is pretty much impossible to avoid. So comes the bit about forming bonds with certain members of the community. Tribes and family units are also essential in human existence. We are dependent on humans that we stand to gain from, and they must be willing to give up certain things- time, energy resources- in order to support us. Without loyalty or compassion, fostered over communion (even short term) with others, we would not be able to rely on these fellow humans regardless of their ability because their willingness to be relied upon is limited. Starving children in Africa we donate our money and clothes to are only fed because their plight has been communicated to us. (But ok that's a bad example since they are not exactly members of our community here in Sg.)

Apply this concept to someone who gains awareness of his/her lack of a tribe/family unit in which he/she belongs. This individual knows that without this he will not last long in the world and therefore has to act in a way that rectifies the problem in the shortest period of time. Refer back to the starving children example. Wouldn't it be right to say it is our sympathy for them and the pain we feel on their behalf for their suffering that compels us to offer our possessions with no expectation of being reimbursed in any way? They did not have to have coffee with us, bond over a game of soccer, become one of our best friends/homies (sorry I had to, I like that word) before we were willing to give.

In the same manner, our nomadic individual from earlier stands to gain most immediately if we witnessed his suffering and felt sorry for him, instead of if we had to take the time to decide if we liked him enough to invite him along to LAN or to come over for dinner. So intentionally inflicting harm to, or making decisions that are ultimately bad for oneself (eg choosing not to study and flunking out, over/under-eating, getting into fights etc)(Yum, pizza. Okay I don't know why I needed to say that) that catch the attention of surrounding humans (in a sense exploiting human compassion) may in fact be the best method to secure a place in the community.

It seems slightly counter-intuitive but destructive courses of action may very well be a highly evolved meme to ensure survival. Right?

Recently, though, I've been thinking maybe there are more fundamental factors in the human condition that cause people to be self-destructive (ie less biological. I think my views are very skewed because I make out that everything can be accounted for by evolutionary principle and divorce my arguments of any spiritual/philosophical engagement).

One of these is the search for meaning. As humans evolved from a state of meeting needs to meeting wants, from surviving to acquiring and conquering, we inevitably also acquired a sense of boredom. Enter the thirst for knowledge. Our in-built curiosity makes us question everything doesn't it. And as standards of living rise, we have more time to ask more questions, and the one that puzzles probably just about everybody on the planet is, why are we here?

I'd love to call it just another meme that developed to ensure that, should biological reasons one day fail to entice us, we don't all decide just to stop reproducing and allow humans to go extinct, but for the sake of this discussion that I'm having with myself, I will not.

I will however argue that that line of reasoning does make some sense. Deceiving ourselves into believing we have a purpose increases our desire to realise it, meaning increased desire to survive in order to do so, and also gives us a sense of false responsibility that we have some significant role to play in the cosmos such that, as our forefathers have done, we are required to raise our children (ie have them to begin with) in order that they may fulfill their roles as well.

Ignoring the above paragraph, we now assume that everyone has a purpose. (Pfft.) Meaning in life is attained when that purpose has been discovered, and we are driven to survive to carry out our destined role in the universe.

Consider a clock. It has cogs and gears and little bits that fit nicely together such that the clock functions. Now say there's a little gear I just decide to randomly dump in there. Chances are this little gear is gonna obstruct the others, and prevent the clock from ticking, but even if it doesn't, the gear is not needed in the clock for it to tell the time. So the existence of this gear is completely pointless and unnecessary. Why, then, does the gear need to exist? (We are assuming a one clock universe. In which the universe has um. Only one clock. And nothing else. Shut up.)

Self-destruction is perhaps then the manifestation of a lack of purpose, whether or not this is imaginary; it is the knowledge, or belief, that one is (well, simply put) unnecessary. It may not be so much of a self-pitying act, then, rather than one performed out of reason. Getting rid of something that is not required best conserves resources that would otherwise be wasted. Why oil a gear that is not in use?

Another school of thought which is really quite intriguing to me (but also least believable) would be the theory of the death drive. Described as repetition compulsion, it is the apparent unconscious thought of performing certain actions that are damaging to oneself in order to revert things to the condition they were in preceding our birth. Do people really unknowingly have inclinations to reduce themselves into nothing? Freud claims that we are more than just creatures of habit. We repeat errors (unfavourable in increasing our chances of survival) by choice, driven by our longing to return to a state of eternal rest, because passion derived from hate and destruction burns longer and hotter than ever could be derived from love. Perhaps we do translate this passion into self-inflicted injury in our thoughts and actions and spirits. How else can we explain why our minds are constantly occupied by things that anger us rather than that which brings us joy?

Maybe we need ignition, regardless of whether it eventually burns us out. Intentionally harming oneself to attain the intended and desired pain hardly seems logical though. (And sounds awfully masochistic, which of course is what this concept revolves around.) Which is why it is hard for me to wrap my brain around it.

So I explain this to myself with a less extreme way of looking at it, which could perhaps be applied in this argument. Replace the masochist with a more ordinary (ahem less creepy) human being with a fear of failure. In this case, is expectation of failure may be his motivation to instead demolish rather than build up something that has a possibility of crumbling on its own. He would then be more accomplished in failing than he ever would at succeeding. Does one ultimately harm oneself because protecting oneself from harm is practically impossible? I'd delve more into Freud's theories but I don't really feel like blogging about secret sexual desires (probably talked about that too much with Kaikai yesterday anyway hahaha) so I'll end here.

Humans are curious. Maybe the reasons are all valid in different cases. But somehow I find it hard to believe there are so many variations to human behaviour. Underneath it all, aren't we all driven by the same basic worldly desires, and bogged down by the same human flaws? I hardly believe in individuality, and I think that is probably why my views are so skewed towards biological reasoning, almost to the point that I try to refute any other proposition brought up.



Hmmm. All that from a discussion about middle child syndrome.

"To tell somebody you love them is about the most selfish thing you could ever do."




I think I would be much much much happier if I wasn't so insecure. I won't deny it, I want people to care that I exist and that I'm there and that I'm significant. But it scares the fuck out of me to think that the people who tell me that they do just do so because they think it might help. Because I'm needy and pathetic and they can't help but feel sorry for me.

I don't know why I feel this way and I don't know why I let thoughts like these affect me. Stop being so fucking self-centred, damn it. There are bigger things in life, there are bigger things in life, there are bigger things in life...


And honestly, to look you in the eye
it's easier to lie


I'm sorry that I'm like this. I'm so fucking self-absorbed.

On the subject of love and friendship being purely circumstantial.

Me: How do we find The One? Should it just be because the person happened to be there, instead of the other extreme in which you would examine the qualities that the ideal partner should have in order to identify The One? Even with friends, for that matter. People make friends, or choose a significant other, just because they spend a significant amount of time with the person, because they happen to be there. Isn't it sad?

Wai Choong: Well, when I found my BFF, was it because she fit into a list of qualities that made her exactly the right person, because she happened to be around... or was it because we could naturally just connect?


(: thankful everyday for the BFF. Tonight's 5 hour conversation (atas as usual, Din Tai Fung hahahah) was soul food. To trust and be trusted. That's what friends are for. That's who truly matters. That's who you truly matter to. And I am blessed.

Talking to people, I sometimes surprise myself with what comes out from my mouth. When you hear it out loud versus when it's locked up in your brain. Especially with things closer to home.

I got to thinking, looking back at my 17 years of existence. Have I really outgrown my secondary school friends; have they outgrown me? I guess once you say it, it becomes a lot more real then when it's in your head (and you can pretend that it isn't really there.)

I believe I have grown up, somewhat. Heck I'm probably still childish as ever in my reasoning and actions. So no, not matured, just hardened. Lorong did have a point I suppose, when he said that personal experience can account for all my cynicism. I feel old and tired thinking about how the younger me would've struck up a conversation with just about anyone. How could I have been so trusting, and so open, often to complete strangers? (I have also come to realise how few friendships I have managed to maintain over the years.) Maybe 3 years ago I had a sense of adventure, and a thirst for excitement. True, I liked to listen to people, and still do (it remains one of my greatest joys in life, perhaps because of my need to feel involved in someone's life. I crave most to be let in.) But I really think I just longed for, needed attention. I was trying to forget all the people I had wronged, the clique I had single-handedly destroyed. (That was a rough year. So many regrets, angry words I wish I could take back; the "for certains" when you know something is entirely your fault.) Yes, I think that was when I decided. The pixie haircut, the crazy leap to throw myself out into the world hoping to fill the void, find something to replace what I had torn apart, people who might care.

Now, after having made those memories, with people whom I may never see or talk to again, I feel like all I did was make myself cheap. So few of those people mean anything at all to me, nor I to them. We are all so forgettable, really, because I think everyone is the same, trying to make meaning out of nothing. It's just, soaking up everybody else's experiences made me feel like I was part of something. Until I realised that I really wasn't. You can't be erased from something you never really built.

The more I discovered about myself, the more I hated. Maybe that's why I am the way I am today. Having played the role of just the observer to any group of friends I have ever hung out with since, I'm like a 3rd party in my own life. Sometimes I wonder why I don't involve myself more. But it's scary I guess, I didn't, and still don't, want to make the same mistakes I did, and hurt more people, lose more people.

It gets lonely sometimes. And I feel really dull on some days. Boring, for the most part. I need to learn to accept that I am who I am. I am alright, right? Just gotta get out of this rut, and start trying to hold on to people instead of worrying all the time that they wouldn't want to do the same. But then they don't really want to, do they. Sighhh if we are all meant to use and be used, what happens when people figure out there's no use for me? I think that's what frightens me the most, and keeps me wishing I were something better.


It's too much to ask for when there's no attraction anymore.

I know, I know I said I'd be mugging.

I just really wanted to say that I've had enough of trying to take control of my life, make my perpetual sadness go away, do something with myself. I'm letting go, I'm coming back. Yesterday was a well-timed reminder to stop trying to take things into my own hands. It's funny, Daryl and I have extremely different views on religion (scarily so, in fact, we're practically polar opposites) but whenever I explain to him my need to seek God, something greater than myself and greater than anything imaginable here on Earth, I feel this sense of calm wash over me, which I can only describe as a kind of divine peace. I'm also really glad I can speak about this sort of thing with him so freely. Perhaps I even appreciate his Atheist standpoint to help me make sense of my own faith.

I guess I want to document, lest I forget at times, that I've made a promise to myself to be content with what I have, and who I am. Envy is such a poisonous thing. I think all I've been doing is seeing all the things other people had that I'm lacking, and making myself miserable because of that. And of course doubting everything that I do have, or that others have proven can be lost so easily.

Decided to stop, take a step back and take a second look around.

I must say I'm so extremely thankful for my classmates, more specifically the couples in my class. God knows I'm so freakin sick of talking about Love, but reading that post (by F) just made me smile like an idiot that I had to mention this. Amongst all the other idiotic hormonal stupid girls and boys (admittedly even close friends) whose relationships are doomed to fail, him and R, (and A and B) they make me wanna believe that real love exists, that all it takes is that best friend who knows exactly who you are, and loves you for it.

That said, I really wanna say how thankful I am for my best friends. I don't care if you don't consider me as one of yours, I thank God He put you guys in my life, for all the silly inside jokes, the dinners I would otherwise have had to spend alone, the last minute outings, the heartbreaking calls in the middle of the night asking if I can come over and keep you company, the grand plans we make for the future, the idiotic stunts we pull just for kicks, the support, the love, everything. I'm sorry I haven't been a very good friend. But now I'm tired of trying to keep a safe distance in fear of rejection, and telling myself I'm all alone in this. No, I've taken you for granted. All I've done this past year or so is make myself miserable, but no more. It's about time I stop wallowing in self-pity. Love you guys so so so much

I wonder.

We always find ourselves judging people. You know, in children's movies or books, there's always the antagonist who's just downright annoyingly horribly stinkily BAD. We learn from those books and shows to label people as terrible.The interesting thing is that in these stories the villain normally acknowledges their villainy. Darth Vader admits to turning to the Dark Side, Cruella De Ville embraces her puppy-killing persona, the Gringe just goes around being a bitch on purpose.

But in reality, do terrible people ever think they're terrible?

I don''t know, I highly doubt Tin Pei Ling scrolled through her pictures one day thinking that maybe she did look kinda silly with her Kate Spade bags and her feet stomping

Or Hitler woke up one morning, and while brushing his teeth looked in the mirror said, "Gee, aren't I an evil little bastard?"

No, terrible people wouldn't ever think what they did was truly terrible would they? I guess in their minds they must have some way of justifying their actions. And following their line of reasoning it would be impossible for it to sound terrible if only we'd hear it from their point of view. Technically, there's 2 sides to every story right? And the side we know may not always be the only truth. Nor is one party always wrong, or terrible (my choice of word of the day).

I guess what I'm trying to say is, is terrible really just subjective? That maybe there aren't really any terrible people out there, just the terrible people who are quick to pass judgment?


Or am I just afraid that I too, am really a terrible person in denial?