Why Am I Here?

I woke up in the middle of a desert, drenched in water, naked, gasping for air. My lungs burning, as if the air inhaled has turned into liquid lava, the salt in the water has grown into shoots of thistles. I scanned the horizon as faint memories start flowing back into my brain. I remember that I was drowning, sinking into the bottomless ocean, struggling to survive. I didn’t even know why I even bother trying to live to be honest. People of my kind would always be rejected by the icy merciless ocean. I am no fish; I am no merman. I’m different, that’s why I have to die. Maybe I should’ve adapted better, changing myself to fit the currents of the world. Maybe love isn’t something that’s worth dying for. Nor are my beliefs. Maybe if I had taken my mother’s advice and just forget about it, take some iffy testosterone medications, go to some kind of spiritual therapy… maybe then I would’ve developed fins and gills. Maybe then I would’ve survived… Continue reading “Why Am I Here?”



I ran away from the house. I needed air and the house was too warm to breathe in. I needed to leave. It was that simple. Just to get some fresh air.

If only the reason behind this was that simple.

You really can’t pinpoint a single reason why something happened. Because it’s never just one reason, it’s snapshots of multiple traumas that flooded and bested the logical and rational side of things. And in hindsight, it was much more than irrational. In order to fully understand such rationale, you will need an unbelieving amount of backstory which constitutes my entire life. Which I don’t expect anyone to understand. I will just have to make do with a boiled down version of my experience. Continue reading “Untitled”


I used to fear the dark. It always made me felt alone. The dark always brings me back to that night when my parents had The Argument. Everything about that night was quite vague to me, yet pieces of memories kept coming back to me like a kaleidoscope.
All I remembered was that they were throwing things across the room. The sound screams and arguments thrown from a relationship turned sour, the shattering of the glass ornaments too delicate to remain whole, the pounding of the door as my grandmother yelled helplessly into the locked within. And there I was, vulnerable and bewildered by the utter chaos of the room. I was too young to understand anything.  Continue reading “Nyctophobia”


This house is too sickeningly warm. Too hot. Too suffocating.

The warmth that it seemingly unconditionally gives demands its price.

It dehydrates me. Little by little. Taking whatever’s left of me.

I have recently noticed the cracks. Unconsciously hidden. Dressed up wounds.

Does it even hurt now or is it resurfacing just to play the shattered character.

The fractured porcelain doll. The smile behind the tears. The rotting flesh. What’s new. Continue reading “Home”

Friend turned Phobia

They wanted to see its fear…

If there is anything that I always tell myself, it will be this: “Without going through what I have been through, I could not confidently say that I would be who I am today. And I like who I am today.” My past makes up who I am today.

My recent past is filled with happy memories. Yet my distant past is another story.

I developed an intense fear of insects since I was young. The sight of any sort of insect would send chills down my spine, goosebumps all over my skin, and ultimately bring me to tears. Though there was a time when I looked at insects with an intense gaze of curiosity.

Before I was able to make a distinction between animals from insects, I had a general interest in all living organisms. From complex dinosaur names, to the minute differences between crocodiles and alligators, the knowledge of all animals intrigues me. Zoologists was the dream occupation that closely seconded my first as an artist. I would spend hours and hours memorizing facts and, attempted, to draw accurate representations of it on blank pieces of papers. Amongst those drawings, most of them were drawings of butterflies.

Monarch butterflies were my favourite. Its amber wings always reminded me of my mother’s blanket. The same blanket that she would wrap me around whenever I slept next her a night. I would gaze into the butterfly’s wings and feel comfort. Continue reading “Friend turned Phobia”

Porcelain Doll

The porcelain doll was once soft and flexible. Without shape, without purpose. Just pure joy. Meddling amongst the clay, not a single care about the future. Do you remember those days? Everything is just pure bliss. Good and evil, all muddled up. Pure innocence. 

Then came the kind and careful hand, tenderly scoping the round and plump clay, clasping the clay in those gentle and careful hands. They gently caress the clay with those rough but careful hands. Slowly touching, fondling, kneading.

Until they start pulling, stretching, moulding the clay, with those same rough and forceful hands, moulding it into something its not. Something they deem more purposeful. Something more appealing. Continue reading “Porcelain Doll”

The Power of Three

The number three is a wonderful number. It has generally three ways you could represent it with one hand. It is the number of time: past, present, future. It is the number of states that water has: vapour, water, ice. It is the number that represents the holy trinity. It is the number of primary colours. It is also a number of times for a “charm” to work.

It is also a number that brings great pain.

The world biased towards even numbers. Equality exists in most even numbers, but not always odd numbers. Odd numbers are, in fact, just odd. Weird. Disgusting. Being the second prime number, three is always just one number away from being divisible, being equal, being multiple.

Three on itself is stable.

In humans, two is an all too intimate number, three provides balance. Stability. Equilibrium. Therefore, most groups of friends that I have automatically organise themselves in groups of three. Being in three is comfortable and seems all too natural.

But three is not natural. Continue reading “The Power of Three”


I’ve never been in a relationship before, so having my heart broken by someone is a completely distant feeling to me. However, the feeling of having my heart broken by myself is a feeling that is all too familiar to me.

As a Piscean, I live my days as if I was living in a fantasy. I daydream in order to escape from the stress and the torture of the mundanity of the routine lifestyle. I see sparkles, bubbles, petals, unicorns, rainbows and glitters every day. I plug in my earphones and all the outside world is to me is but a backdrop to my life’s music video. I submerge in the fantasy that I have created myself. I fantasize and I romanticize. It is the most beautiful way to live…  Continue reading “Shaved”

The Lion and the Fish

Once upon a time, there was a young lion cub which lived in the woods onto of a hill. The cub lived years of isolation within the woods, for his parents were always nowhere to be seen. Lonely and helpless, the cub often ventures off and explores the woods alone to find food for himself.

One fateful evening, when the cub was cautiously stumbling through the woods, he discovered that in the middle of the small opening lies a tiny pond. The pond was aquamarine and shone with a mysterious luminescent aura. Slowly, the cub approached the pond and there he discovered a tiny fish. Though the fish looked nothing out of the ordinary, it greatly intrigued the innocent little cub. The tiny fish welcomed the cub with open fins and slowly, the cub lowered his defenses. Continue reading “The Lion and the Fish”

The Pill of Happiness

If there is anything that I always tell myself, it will be this: “Without going through what I have been through, I could not confidently say that I would be who I am today. And I like who I am today.” My past makes up who I am today.

My recent past is filled with happy memories. Polaroids of friendship moments full of love and fellowship. Moments I relive every now and then just to brighten up my day. I know how blessed I am, and I remind myself that wouldn’t have survived until this day without these beautiful people. As my know-it-all step-cousin once put it a couple years back: my friendships are something that even he would be jealous of. Continue reading “The Pill of Happiness”