Because I haven't felt this way for the longest time.


Even it was just for a fraction of a second

I knew there would be no turning back, but still some inner voice continued to urge me on. It felt a little like pulling the trigger on myself.

What was said next would have carved me open in the past, but now, strangely the words seem to have little effect on me. But I would be lying if I said I wasn't affected. One isn't invincible, after all. A dullness began to set in, heavy as lead. It was a thick numbing sensation I carried around, a feeling buried so deep inside it was easy to pretend it didn't exist.

Nowadays it's so rare to have a chance to sit down properly and savor a moment of peace and quiet, to simply be with myself and seek solace in the empty pages of my notebook, while being accompanied by the music of Rachael Yamagata. Already, I feel the heaviness lifting and leaving my bones. But so many distractions are crowding into my mind, threatening to pull me away from this moment, and I have to fight against my worries and unwanted diversions, and force myself to focus on this one thing.

Two weeks into university life and I'm still not quite sure what to make of it. Change has always been disconcerting for me, even more so now that so much is happening all at once, and so quickly too. Things seem to be in a constant state of flux, paradoxical as that may sound. Amidst all this change, it is so easy to get caught up in this whole new life, so much so that I almost begin to forget about this other life I've led, and neglect the people that I've left behind. In the empty moments, sometimes I find myself floundering, feeling so lost. Like something cut adrift, rootless, a piece of tumbleweed drifting along the shore.

I feel like I'm standing on the cusp of something, something so significant and monumental, as I embark on this brand new phase in my life, and honestly, I don't know where all this will lead me.

journey

The notion of traveling, the journey away from the east to the west, the physical movement away from the familiar faces, the familiar places. The train is hurtling forward at breakneck speed, all other sounds are drowned out and you can only hear the low roar tightening around you, the inhuman screeching of metal against metal tracks, like a vicious assault pounding against your eardrums. The scenery is flying by so quickly your mind can barely register it, as the train emerges from the stifling claustrophobia of the city's subway tunnels ( they bear such an uncanny resemblance to ancient catacombs), then it rises into the open,  streaking past the rows of colorful HDB flats silhouetted against the gradually darkening skies.  The motion of the train seems to be the only certain thing. As the train judders to a halt at Boon Lay, you take a tentative step out of the train carriage and onto the platform and stand there, a lone figure motionless in this relentless ebb and flow of people. And in that moment, you feel the vastness of space, expanding, widening all around you, enormous in its aspect, and you're reminded, once again, of how utterly alone you are in all of this.

Nobody said it was easy, no one said it would be this hard

Priscilla Ahn, Wallflower

I'm not here, no one sees me

chinatown