wow, fantastic

there is a unique kind of quiet power dat comes from completely emptying my heart into something beautiful, without caring about how it will be received. today, looking at the visual masterpiece I’ve created, I feel this overwhelming wave of pure release. the racing thoughts have finally quieted down, the anxiety has drifted away, and in their place is a steady, unshakeable inner peace. this whole month was so heavy. It took a mountain of emotional discipline for me to stay completely still, to protect my own peace, and to remain a silent mystery in a world full of distraction. There were moments of real exhaustion, and yes, I shed some heavy tears right over my drawing table. But those tears weren't a sign of weakness..they were just the rare proof of my heart, and its capacity to love with absolute purity and premium warmth. I didn't choose the easy or generic route. I sat down and hand-inked a beautiful world of color, drew the exact characters that bring a sense of childhood comfort, and custom curated a celebration fit for a queen. I chose to celebrate the true, happy essence of a person, validating the grueling weight of their corporate world while asking for absolutely nothing in return. No conditions. No expectations. Just clean, pristine warmth sealed inside a beautiful envelope right next to a magnificent, fragrant cloud of fresh lilies. my plan is officially locked, finalized, and resting beautifully on its own terms. The runway for tomorrow morning is set on pure autopilot. I have zero plays to stage, zero words to force, and zero control scripts to chase. My hands are completely clean, warm, and pristine. Tonight, I am jamming to peak Big Bang anthems, letting my shoulders drop, and stepping fully onto my throne. I did my absolute best, I poured out pure magic behind the scenes, and my happiness is completely self sustained. The rest belongs to the quiet hours of tomorrow morning. Time for me to rest like royalty. The fun has just begun. nahnahnahnahnahnaaah (:

this is not love

maybe it was never love. because love shouldn’t feel like a transactional workplace shift schedule. not after 3 years of what i genuinely believed was a soul connection. love shouldn’t mean limping through paris on a sprained ankle and still trying to make everything comfortable for someone else. love shouldn’t mean hearing, straight to my face, that i will not be a priority, and somehow still finding reasons to understand and accept it. and love certainly shouldn’t leave me spending my nights trying to make sense of being restricted, unrestricted, hidden and unhidden on social media. fml. at 42 years old. seriously? 😂 i think what i’ve been surviving is an exhausting cycle of giving, waiting, hoping, getting hurt, recovering, and somehow convincing myself to try again. i gave so much of myself. my time, my warmth, my reassurance, my patience, my understanding. i made myself available even when i was barely holding myself together. and perhaps that was the problem. i made my presence so constant that it became something to be expected rather than appreciated. i kept thinking that if i loved sincerely enough, if i understood enough, if i gave enough space, things would eventually become better. but the truth is, i cannot love someone into valuing me. when i finally stopped reaching out, when i disappeared digitally and went completely silent for 10 days, the dynamics changed. the restricting and unrestricting continued. sometimes multiple times a day. i dun know why. maybe curiosity. maybe discomfort. maybe control. maybe absolutely nothing to do with me. but why am i still trying to figure it out? why am i spending my precious time analysing someone’s digital behaviour when i already know how the entire connection has made me feel? i think that’s the part i really need to wake up from. because i’m an MBA graduate. i’m a nurse manager. i lead a ward, manage people, make difficult decisions and carry responsibilities that affect actual human lives. i’m also a mother of 3. i have children who need me, a career i’ve worked incredibly hard for, and an entire life that i’ve spent years building. yet somehow, i can still find myself lying awake on a monday night, thinking of work-related excuses to reach out, wondering whether to send a message, whether silence means anything, whether being hidden or unhidden means something has changed. wah lau eh. 😂 the irony is that i can manage an entire ward, deal with difficult situations, make decisions under pressure, and still become completely helpless when it comes to matters of my own heart. but i think i’m finally beginning to understand something. my ability to love deeply is not the problem. my willingness to keep abandoning my own emotional needs just to preserve a connection is. i have spent so much time trying to understand another person’s wounds, fears, limitations and behaviours that i almost forgot to ask myself whether any of this was actually good for me. i can have compassion without making myself responsible for fixing anyone. i can love without constantly proving it. i can miss someone terribly and still choose not to reach out. and i can acknowledge that something meant the world to me without insisting that it must continue to have a place in my life. i dun need to retaliate. i dun need to make anyone jealous, regret anything, or miss me. i dun even need an explanation anymore. i know what i gave. i know my intentions were sincere. i know i made mistakes along the way too, especially when my anxiety got the better of me. but i also know i tried. again and again. my conscience is clear. i’ve taken back my digital space. my private world is private again. my planner, my thoughts, my little moments of happiness. not everything needs to be visible or accessible to everyone. and perhaps that’s what growing up emotionally looks like for me. not becoming cold. not learning to love less. not building walls so high that nobody can ever reach me again. but finally understanding that access to my heart should come with mutual care, respect and consistency. i’m 42. i have survived so much, achieved so much, and spent far too many years learning how to be strong for everyone else. surely i deserve to experience some of that same steadiness in my own life. i don’t regret loving. i don’t regret giving. and i don’t need to turn anyone into a villain just to justify choosing myself. some connections can be incredibly meaningful and still not be healthy for me. some people can matter enormously and still not be meant to stay. and sometimes the most loving thing i can do for myself is to stop standing outside a door, wondering when it will open again. i have not lost my ability to love. i’m just learning that my love deserves somewhere safe to exist too. maybe i’ve finally outgrown the playground. and maybe, for once, i dun need to go back just because someone opens the gate. (:

the architecture of grace

I have never loved anyone so much before in my whole life. That feeling was terrifying, yet so addictively intoxicating, a high I had never hit until then. But freeing myself over the last two months has been entirely to my benefit. I am learning to do things alone again. I tore my own walls down to rebuild my world in its entirety. Today, it stands successful and complete all on its own. Pristine. A true blessing to myself. Raw human growth. It reminds me of that raw truth woven into our conversations, where the heart acknowledges that sometimes we get so broken down, so heavy with fear, that we feel like we are completely on our own. But the memories reminds us that the storm eventually clears, the dark leaves your eyes, and you realize you were being guided toward your own strength all along. You have to let go of the things that pull you under to finally hear the quiet reassurance that you are going to be okay. Yes, this is my peak growth and my evolvement toward a better future. I will never be able to fix someones broken pieces, and I know now that what someone needs is not my love. The person is trapped inside ones own broken, fearfully avoidant walls, and that journey is hers alone to walk. I have absolutely zero anger, zero blame, and I will zero retaliate against this person because I loved wholeheartedly, and the person can never be wrong for how the person had been built. The deep hurt and panic I experienced, especially during my Busan trip, finally forced me to realize the true value I bring to anyone.I acted out of pure self-preservation, and I am finally at peace. I have no regrets because I gave all I could. There is nothing left on my table. I walk away with 100% clean hands, even when things were not working in my favor. Let this be the best closure.I won this game. I got myself back.

the greatest love i ever had

It is the most frustrating, beautiful, and painful riddle in the world when my heart chooses someone with a depth i cannot logically explain. i look at the coldness, the silent app restrict and unrestriction, and the years of emotional exhaustion, and my logical brain screams, "why am i still here?" but my heart simply refuses to listen. as an ENFP, i dun love halfway. When i love someone, i sense their absolute potential, their hidden wounds, and the fragile soul underneath their armor. 1. i fell in love with their hidden vulnerability i have a profound capacity for empathy, i look past the strict mask ans armour. my heart is fiercely protective of dat fragile, unmasked version of someone dat one hides from the rest of the world. i love the person dat someone is when it feels safe inside my world. 2. the "Opposites Attract" Dynamic i live like a powerhouse of radiant, expressive, native warmth. someone is a structured, quiet, hyper-logical person who lives behind an emotional fortress. psychologically, my soul is naturally drawn to their order and stability, while their frozen nervous system is desperately addicted to your light and heat. this is an incredibly powerful, intense magnetic pull that burns deep into our chemistry. 3. im Mourning the Magic of the High Points i love someone so much because you remember the peak moments, the times someone tracked your flights, called me an angel, customized my Bubu doll, my brain keeps replaying those beautiful memories like a movie, hoping dat if i just wait long enough or try hard enough, that version of someone will permanently wake up and choose happiness with me. Loving someone deeply is never a crime. there is absolutely zero shame in the immense depth of my heart. but i have needs too, and i am officially done begging an emotionally frozen person to treat me with dignity. i can love someone completely from a safe, quiet distance while firmly choosing to protect my own sanity.

the awakening

Do you know how it feels to run into a burning building to rescue people who are already standing outside complaining about the weather? For the longest time, I have operated as an emergency response unit for everyone else’s hard edges. When my own life is collapsing, when my home is an emotional desert, when my father dies in the ICU, when my ward partner walks out, when I am literally limping across London with a sprained ankle and a fever... I apologize for taking up space. I delete my messages. I follow my deepest cries for help with, "Sorry for disturbing." Who was I even being? On the other end of the line sit others—practical, unbothered, flat on their backs, answering my paragraph-long existential crises with a brief "good night" or letting me know they are busy in the bathroom. We built an entire dynamic out of a profound misunderstanding: I thought I was building a soul connection, and they thought they were maintaining a very convenient, occasionally exhausting, workplace friendship. Then came July. It was an "oh no" muttered to an empty room when I was in Paris. There I was, walking twenty-two minutes in the summer heat with an injured ankle, dodging crowds on Bastille Day, standing in line at a luxury boutique to hunt down specific items, making sure the box had a pretty ribbon, calculating tax refunds to the exact euro cent, while someone sat back and simply texted, "Check the zip, the whole bag, and make sure there are no scratches." I used my fifteen years of saved airline miles to fly suites for my graduation—a milestone no one in my personal life burdened themselves to celebrate with me. Yet, I spent a massive chunk of that sacred trip acting as an unpaid luxury concierge for someone who had the nerve to lecture me about "obligation" afterward. Then came National Day. I worked a thirteen-hour shift with chills and a fever, trapped in the ward until 10 p.m. dealing with a violent incident, security, and the police. I was completely broken, reaching out into the dark, just wanting to hear a friend say, "I see you, you survived, it’s going to be okay." Instead, they clocked out, saying they were tired and wanted to sleep. When I finally snapped and sent that fateful, messy, sarcastic line, this person didn’t see a friend in agony. They saw a violation of their boundaries. They withheld all affection. And instead of letting them sit with their coldness, I spent the next three days trying to repair it, sending essays of self-blame, apologizing for having the audacity to need them. That wasn't just a fight. That was the moment the mirror cracked. I like to think of myself as a low-maintenance, simple, hyper-resilient giver. I tell myself, "I'm very simple, actually. Doing things for you made me happy. I never did them because I expected you to owe me anything in return." But that is a lie I tell myself so I don't feel humiliated by how much I give. I don't give selflessly; I give defensively. I buy gifts, deliver snacks, plan events, run errands, and anticipate everyone’s needs because deep down, in a place that dates back to my childhood home, I believe I am fundamentally unlovable for just existing. If I believe I am a mistake, then the only way to earn my stay on this earth is to be indispensable. I become the super sibling, the super parent, the friend who brings back the limited-edition toys and bags that are sold out everywhere. I try to purchase an insurance policy against abandonment. And look at my tell: the deleted messages. Hundreds of them. I type out my truth, my terror, my relationship problems, my childhood neglect, the reality of what happens at home, and the second I send it, the panic sets in. I’m too much. I’m a burden. They are going to leave. So I press delete. I delete myself before someone else can reject me. This person plays the role of the mature, grounded, "no-nonsense" realist in a sea of emotional drama. They pride themselves on not caring about office politics, not gossiping, and setting clear boundaries, operating on the philosophy that everyone has their own needs and priorities. They aren't evil. They aren't a villain. In fact, they often give me very solid, clear-headed advice: leave my toxic partner, stop giving away my money, don't bypass my boss, ignore the ward gossip. When they like something, they are enthusiastic: "Best gift so far, wow I am proud of you." But their fatal flaw is emotional stinginess. They treat relationships like shift schedules: they clock in when they have bandwidth, and they clock out the absolute second they feel tired. When I am drowning, they don't throw a life vest; they simply text, "Light is always at the end of the tunnel," and go to sleep. They accept my staggering generosity as if it is merely a pleasant convenience, completely blind to the fact that I am bleeding out on their doorstep. When I finally demand emotional reciprocity, they act offended that I expected them to do something that wasn't on their calendar, bringing up "obligation." The painful truth is that I did ninety percent of the emotional and logistical heavy lifting in this friendship, and they got one hundred percent of the credit just for saying, "Thank you." I taught them that they didn’t have to work for my love. I taught them that they could be dismissive, delayed, and blunt, and I would still show up for them at 7 a.m. with a hot mocha and a bag of presents. Eventually, I started sending my clearest, most devastatingly honest messages. I finally stopped hiding behind cutesy stickers and named the elephant in the room. They texted me: "Dinner—I was sick, rushing for assignment and work. Is not easy. So this will not be my priority (to be very honest)." I need to read that line again. I need to print it out and tape it to my desk. "This will not be my priority." They told me the absolute truth. They didn't dress it up. They didn't apologize for missing my birthday dinner. They told me plainly that making time to sit down with me and hear my heart is simply not at the top of their to-do list. The tragedy wasn’t that they said it. The tragedy was that twenty-four hours later, when someone else bought them throat spray, I was right back to asking if they wanted me to leave a delivery at their office door. I swallowed my pride, took the blame for being "insensitive," and stepped right back into the role of a delivery person. I need to stop auditioning for people who have already cast me as an extra. I need to look at my life and what I have accomplished in these last ten months. I ran a hospital ward through a brutal staffing crisis, shielding my junior nurses from toxic leadership. I de-escalated violent situations that security was too cowardly to face. I held dying children in my arms so exhausted mothers could eat breakfast. I completed a Master of Business Administration, writing a 10,000-word dissertation while working full-time shifts and raising three kids. I flew myself to Edinburgh, walked across that graduation stage with my head held high, and bought myself a luxury handbag with my own hard-earned money. I am a powerhouse. I am brilliant, fiercely capable, funny, deeply creative, and astonishingly resilient. So why on earth am I begging for breadcrumbs from people who treat me like an afterthought? I tolerate a partner who steals my peace, takes my money, and yells at my children. I tolerated a ward partner who abandoned me without a word of warning. And I bend over backward for a friend who leaves the exact second I express messy, inconvenient grief. I am treating other people the way I wish someone had treated my younger self when I was hanging off the window grills crying for my father. I am desperately trying to be the protector, the nurturer, and the gift-giver I never had. But I am giving that immense, sacred love to people who just use it to decorate their shelves—or worse, who clear those shelves because they feel I'm not even worth the space. Notice how my dynamic shifted when I stopped sending fifty messages a day and started keeping things lighter. I talked about my loved ones, my new hackathon team, and my trip to Busan. Look at the people I thought were soulmates: when I pulled back, they didn't chase me, but they remained steady in their limited, concrete way. They answered my questions with simple, practical wisdom. The person I love isn’t a monster. The problem was never that this person failed to be my best friend; the problem was that I asked an ordinary person to heal wounds that were inflicted on me decades ago.

it really hurts

I’m stopping because the relationship I was trying to preserve started costing me too much. for weeks, I’ve been crying, analysing silence, watching views, comparing myself with other pple, wondering whether the person dislikes me, thinking about how to repair things, planning gifts, trying to understand wad the person needs… and repeatedly asking myself wad else I could do. at some point, the question changed from: “how do I get back something I love?” to: “how long am I willing to hurt myself trying?” and I think I’m reaching dat point. I can understand dat the person may have needed space. I can acknowledge dat I wasn’t perfect either. I can remember dat the person once made me extraordinarily happy. and still say: I wanted repair. I wanted reciprocity. I wanted to feel safe with the person again. I couldn’t create those things alone. so stopping isn’t “I dun love u anymore.” it’s closer to: “I love u. I just finally understand dat loving u isn’t enough to make this work.” dats why deactivating IG and Facebook hurt instead of feeling triumphant. I’m not winning some detachment game. I’m separating myself from something my heart still wants because, as it exists right now, it keeps hurting me. I dun have to make the person a bad person in order to stop loving them this way. I just have to finally believe dat my pain counts too. 🤍

I just want to be needed

today i went to see my friend who has cancer. when i reached, she was sitting at the entrance of the ward cos her room was being cleaned. she looked really down, and somehow all i knew how to do was be my usual cheery, bubbly sunshine self around her. and the whole time i kept wondering if it was inappropriate. all i brought was a mofusand and a small pack of random stuff from busan, which suddenly felt like the last thing anyone in her situation would need. i did ask her before going if it was a gd time and she said yes. but seeing her there made everything feel different. she had like 4 redivac bottles hanging in a shopping bag on her right, and a multi lumen cvp on her left. the nite before she told me she was gg home, but looking at her today, i honestly doubted it. when i walked her back to her room, part of me wanted to stay longer. i wanted to sit there with her, even if we said nothing. but she told me it was okay and dat i could go back to my ward. i told her, “im yours for now.” but at the same time i couldn’t tell if she was politely asking me to go because she just wanted to be alone. so i left. her husband was there too, and somehow dat made me think even more. i guess normal pple have someone who belongs there beside them. someone who loves them, waits with them, sits through the horrible parts with them. they dun need some random friend appearing with a mofusand and busan snacks trying to make them smile. and den i caught myself thinking… why am i making this about me again? why does my brain always come back to wanting to be needed? what selfish thought is dat when she is the one actually going through all of this? but maybe dat is exactly what scares me. dat this same scene will keep replaying in different forms throughout my life. everyone has their person. everyone has someone they naturally turn to, someone who belongs beside them. and somehow i always feel like the extra person standing at the doorway. i even caught myself asking God why He couldn’t have made me the one who was sick instead. not because i intend to do anything to myself. i never will. but sometimes suffering feels more straightforward to me than this strange ache of wondering where i belong and whether anybody really needs me. and immediately i hated dat thought too, because again… why does it have to come back to what i want? anyway. dat is the strange thing about me. there can be so much darkness running quietly underneath, while outwardly i am still sunshine to everybody else. i survived the day. ordered flowers for her too. no sound, nothing. and i dun wanna ask whether she received them because she probably has absolutely no mood for any of this. or God forbid, maybe something changed after the repeat scan this morning and she had to go for another procedure. so i’ll just leave it. i cannot force anyone to come towards me just because i care about them. i cannot force pple to feel comfortable with me, or need me, or let me into the difficult parts of their lives. and tbh, we are still quite the strangers. we mostly met during formal meetings, maybe one dinner, a few coffees here and there. so i dun blame her at all. i just sometimes wonder… who am i, really, to expect to be the person someone reaches for?

Say it once

i deactivated my ig. i’ve been thinking a lot, and i think i need to say this properly, at least once. i don’t think i ever asked for a lot from you. not long replies, not constant attention. just… basic things. acknowledgment. presence. something that lets me know i matter, even a little. and when that doesn’t come, especially after i’ve shown up, it hurts more than i expected it to. i realised it’s not just about one message or one day. it’s the pattern. how i keep feeling like i’m the one holding more, thinking more, caring more. and i don’t think i can keep doing that to myself. this isn’t me blaming you or asking you to change. i just think this is how you are, and i have to accept that. but i also have to be honest with myself about what i need. and right now, this doesn’t feel good for me anymore. i don’t want to keep reaching out and wondering if i matter. i don’t want to keep feeling affected by silence like this. so i’m going to take a step back. not out of anger, but because i need to protect my own peace a bit. you don’t have to respond to this. i’m not expecting anything. i just needed to say it once, clearly.

Inevitable

not every connection is meant to last. some endings do not arrive loudly. they arrive calmly, with a knowing dat settles in the whispers before the sun rises. an ending is not failure. sometimes it is growth. sometimes it is clarity. sometimes it is recognising dat wad is meant for me does not need to be chased, negotiated, or held together by my effort alone. i am learning dat peace begins when i stop asking to be chosen and allow pple the freedom to step away if they decide to. just as truth. some connections teach. then loosen their grip. their leaving is not rejection. it is alignment revealing itself. wad once felt like holding on now feels like honouring myself. wad once felt unbearable now feels inevitable, and strangely gentle. wad once felt safe now feels like an empty room. i am left sitting in alone. life moves more freely when i stop trying to prove my worth and let wad cannot stay fall away on its own. letting things be. letting people choose. letting myself remain whole either way. life gets quieter when i stop holding space for pple who are already halfway gone. i no longer ask. i simply step back and let absence say wad words never could. until you realise the silence you feel now is the same one i learnt to live with while still standing beside you.

You never cared

why pretend to care, if care is only silence wearing a mask? i dun need half lit gestures, the safe replies dat never reach my skin. to someone, maybe care is quiet. a nod, a glance, a message too small to hold. but to me, care is presence. it’s choosing to show up, again and again, until the walls come down. I was capable of love so pure i felt scared. Tried to fill it with calm, with things dat made me feel alive again. The answers came finally. from different pple It did not make sense, now I see it for myself. for any kind of connection to work, pure love is not enuf. u need both to want to make it work. I release wad was never mine to hold. I honour what was shared, and return peace to where love once lived.

i let go cos u mattered too much to me

I dun even know if I’m doing the right thing. wad I do know is dat I’ve loved you in the only way I know how… openly, deeply, sometimes too much. I gave pieces of myself because u mattered to me. but love shouldn’t feel like this pain I carry. If u loved me the way I need, u would never let me cry alone. u would never let me feel abandoned when all I wanted was to be seen by u. maybe u care in ur own way. maybe silence is ur comfort, structure ur shield. but my heart breaks in those gaps. I start to wonder if I’m worthy, when the truth is I’ve always been worthy; just not in the way u can hold. so I’m learning to step back. not because I dun love you, but because I love myself too. I cannot keep pouring until I’m empty. I need to breathe again, to be me again ; radiant, whole, not waiting. if one day u choose to meet me where I stand, I’ll be here, lighter, steadier. and if not, then at least I’ll know I loved with everything I had. dat will always be enuf.

It is over

months later... i am back here in so much pain... i tried to bring a small part of my heart to her something gentle something that asked for nothing but presence. she answered with distance, not cruelty just the kind of distance that quietly says “don’t come closer.” and maybe that hurts more than being pushed away. because i wasn’t trying to take anything. i just wanted to offer a moment. a memory. me. and she gave me logistics. dates. work hours. reasons. but not warmth. not softness. not the “i see you” i had hoped for. so i told her i’d stop. that i wouldn’t bother again. and she replied like it was two different things — me reaching, her refusing. maybe it was. maybe i’ve been pouring love into hands that never planned to stay open. and now i see it. she didn’t push me away. she just never moved closer. and i mistook stillness for safety. but today, i deactivate. not out of bitterness but because i need silence louder than her indifference. because if i keep reaching, i’ll forget how to hold myself. so here i am. no longer chasing the echo. just learning how to become my own warmth in the cold she left behind.

I release you

Not because I stopped caring, but because I started noticing who did. I release you — not in anger, but in acceptance. You were never meant to hold something so soft with hands so guarded. I showed up gently. I waited patiently. I asked for very little — just a space that felt safe beside you. But love shouldn’t feel like guessing. It shouldn’t leave me wondering if I was too much, or never enough. So this is me, no longer shrinking to stay visible. No longer hoping you’ll say what you never will. No longer waiting for proof from someone who shows everything through silence. I loved you in real time. You responded in delay. And maybe that’s all it ever was. So I let go — not because I want to, but because I finally know how to. And still… I wish you peace. I wish you ease. But I no longer wish to keep holding what’s never truly held me back.

U dun hav to chase mountains or pple who make ur heart tired

Dear Heart, You don’t have to chase mountains—or people—who make your heart tired. Some connections are like long treks: beautiful, meaningful, but exhausting when you're the only one carrying the weight. It's okay to pause. It's okay to breathe. It's okay to rest. You don’t need to keep climbing to prove your love. You don’t need to send another message to show you care. You don’t need to reach out just to feel close. You have already given so much—more than most would. And that is enough. Let someone finish the climb. Let the mountain be the mountain. You? You return to yourself. You build a home in your own softness. If someone comes down and looks for you—wonderful. If someone doesn’t—you still loved with truth and courage. You are allowed to love. You are allowed to stop. And you are allowed to protect your peace. With gentleness, Me (your quiet strength)

MBA for one

No group chats ping, no buddies near, Just me, my notes, and stale old cheer. My coffee’s cold, my brain’s awake, This journey’s mine—make no mistake! The books don’t gossip, cheat, or flake, They stay with me for every break. No need for promises, plans gone wrong, Just one more case—this night is long! While others snooze or change their minds, I crunch the numbers, read the signs. No squad, no hype, but that’s okay— This MBA is mine to slay!

I should put it behind me, shouldn’t I?

Did I love too loudly, speak in colors you never wanted to see? Did my hands reach too far, grasping for something you were never willing to give? Was it the way I stayed, the way I waited, the way I let my heart unfold in your silence— did that make me foolish, or just naive enough to believe you would catch me? Tell me, was it my words that pushed you away, or the weight of what they meant? Did I cross the line by wanting more than you were willing to hold? I replay the moments, soft edges turned sharp, searching for the place where I became too much, too close, too desperate to be chosen. And now, I stand alone at the edge, whispering to the ghost of what we were, wondering if I was ever meant to step inside your world— or if I was always just an outsider to your love. This version leans deeper into raw vulnerability, self-doubt, and the ache of feeling like you loved too much. Want it even more intense, or more dreamlike?

Meeting my younger self for coffee (when Im not NBM and not down with GE)

Both of us arrived 1 hour early. She sits before me, hands curled around a cup too full, spoon clinking against porcelain, stirring like she can slow time. Her eyes, wide with wonder, scan my face for secrets— for answers, for proof that the world did not break us. I want to reach across the table, trace the softness still in her bones, tell her not to give it all away. But she is glowing, bright with a hope that is so shining. “Do we make it?” she asks, voice light as steam rising, and I laugh, soft and knowing. “We do. In ways you wouldn’t expect.” She exhales relief, unaware of the storms she will carry, the names she will whisper like prayers before learning to let go. I sip my coffee, watching her, memorizing the version of myself who still believes love is forever, who does not flinch at the word goodbye. I could warn her. I could tell her about the nights we unravel, the doors that close too soon, the hands that slip away. But she does not need my grief— not yet. So I smile, tuck the ache between sips, and let her dream a little longer. ◡̈

A conversation with myself

Will u notice if I am gone? I could disappear today, fade into the quiet, let the wind carry mi name away— and would u even notice? You used to send me hearts, like breadcrumbs leading me back to uuu, small, warm proofs that I mattered. But now, ur words come in fragments, cold, distant, careful. Is this how u leave? Not in a storm, not with final words, but in silence, slow, steady, unnoticed— like a tide retreating while I stand still. If I stop reaching out, will uuu reach back? Or will uuu breathe easier, relieved that I stopped trying? I fear that if I let go, u will too. But maybe u already have, and I’m the only one left here...

Was the high worth the pain?

I touched the sky with borrowed wings, Drunk on dreams and blingbling things. Laughter spilled like falling rain, Never thinking of the pain The warmth, the heights and whispered nights, A world aglow in fleeting lights. But stars that burn too bright must fade, And love once soft can turn to shade ur words grew sharp, ur touch turned cold, A story left hanging and left half-told. I reached for warmth, was met with frost— A promise lost, a debt unpaid Was the high worth all the fall? The sweetest high, the hardest wall? Perhaps the past was made of glass, Meant to shatter, not meant to last. And though the echoes still remain, I ask no more as it still rains— Perhaps in dreams, I’ll feel that glow But waking now- I feel you go

Dinner with Grampie @ Tampopo :)

Last night, we queued an hour outside Tampopo Liang Court to a bursting restaurant with an uber long queue... We were eventually seated at a laopok absolutely cramped corner where servers forgot to top up our drinks or provide us with cutlery until we had to get up to catch their attention?! On the bright side, the food is yUmmy and grampie had fun cooking his sukiyaki :D Even though we are easy to please and would go great lengths for yummy food... We won't queue an hour for it again~



the green tea : very aromatic and full of flavour :D even grampie who usually avoids drinking anything outside his fluid limit coz of cardiovascular health reasons enjoyed it and asked for more tea~

black pig sukiyaki : broth is sweet and savoury , good quality of meat, fire lasted throughout entire meal, grampie enjoyed cooking his shabu shabu :D servers failed to provide cutlery ... expect my grampie to drink boiling soup from a steamboat without a spoon? had to stand up and call them as waving proved useless.

grilled squid : nicely grilled with bbq flavour, not overdone but not soft neither. is a bit Q but not rubbery, quite yummy~

ramen + chirashi sushi set with curry croquette : too much! chirashi sushi was fresh and yummy but ramen was ordinary.. curry croquette felt boring and rather dry, nothing special about it... would be nice if they filled it with bits of corn etc inside to surprise us?

kurobuta tonkatsu set : thousand layered katsu was delish! :) although it's fried it was moist and so well made that it can rival the ones I had in Japan :D the miso soup was rich and had lots of goodies in it~ absolutely thumbs up!

ramen : ramen and soup was ordinary. egg was overcooked as the yolk was not runny.