Back to Ground 0.

"I didn't know I was slowly, unconsciously; but surely damaged.

You picked me up when I was in pieces.

Day by day, you painstakingly stitched up the confused parts - the parts that make me.

The parts, though broken, formed something beautiful.

It hinted of a beautiful ending.
Though the broken lines could be seen under a bright sun light, it brought out a vague, promising picture I never knew exisited.

You never complained though the parts seem to never end.

At times, you prick yourself. You stop, but you urge yourself to continue.

You believe that the end will be beautiful. 

However, the seasons change.

The same wind is now blowing. The wind that brought us together. 

But this time it blows in the other direction.

The stitched parts that you painstakingly sewed seem to falter in the wind.

Some fall broken to the ground, scraping the surface unwillingly, before coming to a stop.

You hold the remaining pieces of me in your hand."

0.5

"Today I woke up a little later than usual.

I sat in the living room and waited  for the morning to sink in.

My half opened laptop sat on my study table, with the late morning light streaming in.

It suddenly brought me back to days when I had to force myself up from the living room cushion at 630 in the morning to squeeze out something for C.

I remember the dread (and slight fear of not being able to produce) and the pure tiredness that filled my body. I remember the bright orange light from the table lamp shining on my laptop screen, I would be frantically clicking at my screen.
I see myself hunched over the laptop in the darkness (all except from the laptop and table lamp), and awhile later, I would be slouched over the table, head in my arms,  laptop screen still, no clicking sounds.
Everyone in the family would have left for work hours later, while I slept.
At about 8, I would get up (again) from the sofa, cursing, swearing and hating myself.
My sister would see me and say, you should have slept in the room instead. Isn't this worse.

I've come back to reality.
I am out of that phase.
That phase of trying to have my own style, yet restricted by comments.
I took them to me, to my work.

Now, I won't let them affect me anymore.

And no, I don't want to go back to those days.

Those days of sheer criticisms, condescending remarks, and living like a pathetic soul."

- Excerpt 0.5

She Was Pretty

Inspired by an episode of a korean drama (She Was Pretty) whilst watching it today.

When you do something that you really want to do, 

that's when you're really beautiful.

I want to be beautiful too.

Inner Peace

Hi blogger，
things have really not been going well lately.

Its one of the first times I've felt so much frustration in a group work, where about >50% of our group mates at our age can actually be more responsible, as well as have a deeper sense of time and urgency. I understand we all have different commitments, but there should still be a kind of responsibility individually in a group.

The previous week I've had my eye swollen, and had to recuperate at home for six days because of infection and pus.

And of course..
neverending deadlines as always.

Gray matter

you're the stars in my skies of bleakness.


Term 9, week 9, day 4.

At the end of the day, you're still the one you have to face when you sleep at night.
You're the one whom you've to stay true in the end.

These few weeks pretty had me staying back in school 2-3 nights a week, where we would sleep under the studio table (for me I would have my head a little jutted out under the table, I feel claustrophobic.) i didn't wear my long pants at night and actually woke up in the middle of the night shivering; and a few more times after that. How silly.

Once or twice during the presentations, I could really hear my heartbeat pulsating through my ears. I'm impressed of how anxious I could actually be. The feeling of wanting to take the first step out of your comfort zone, putting a few toe steps forward, then going back again, then falling forward, and back again. I think I didn't really fulfil my own expectations. But y told me it's ok, I should give myself some time.

Sometimes I wonder how I became someone I couldn't really understand.
Though I wish some times I could channel such thoughts into really doing my work.
But time and again I cannot help but wonder about this heart and brain of mine, which are always taking swords and trying to slash each other, then going back into their almost surreal shells of their own lives.

Ok I shall end now, though really (most of the time)  incoherently.

I'm still growing up

Growing up woes.

I think I'm still growing up everyday.
Like how a kid in primary school goes through six years and then go through secondary school and puberty that sort of thing.
I think I'm very much making sense.

This week is honestly one of the most not smooth sailing weeks so far. Ok I must admit it was bad. I'm tired of judgements, comparison, and hurtful things people say.
And whereby tutors cannot differentiate when one has done work or when one doesn't.
Ok I sound like a kid complaining.

While many flourish and find themselves loving school and loving what they do, on the other hand I feel like Uni life can very much be one of the reasons that can kill your soul and spirit. Trying to ignite "creativity", but really it's all a an image, a representation, a package, of who talks better, who smokes more, and who produces more drawings instead of the thought of what goes behind.

Time and again I ask myself, even at this stage.
Why am I doing this again? Putting myself on the slaughter slab.

Uni life presented all sorts of People into my life, in this tiny school environment. Teachers, critics, guest Lecturers, friends, school mates, administrative Clerks.
All of which has so far made an impact, both good and bad in my life.

5 years later from now, will I be thinking the same thing?

movin on

Hi Blogger.

So long no write.


This of school has just ended. It is actually supposed to be "Recess Week" really, but nope it isn't, with the huge amount of work.

Having been out of my comfort zone so far.
I guess I shouldnt complain. Because I've chosen this route.
I have met new people, and really am thankful for some of these new characters I've met, and there's so much to learn from their attitude and the way they do things. Fearless of any challenges, passionate, but still so nice. 

Of course, on the other side, I've also met some other people of which I feel sometimes I feel like I'm participating in the Hunger Games. I know its like the last year already and some are just really goal oriented. But seeing how some people want to reach that goal of having all As is really quite scary sometimes. Their horrendous side appears, and they shoot anyone who comes in their way, and partner people who will bring them higher.
I am not saying it is wrong to be with people who lift you higher, but you can still be nice to others instead of treating them beyond shitballs.

Of course, while there are always giving ones, there are also selfish ones, which I don't even wish to talk about. Just observing by behaviour and actions, and the words they say, they scare me.

Ciao.

Sometimes in my brain
I think of random words
Like
Shutthefuckup
When things I don't want to think of
Flashes past my head

Am I weird?

Unhappy things run through the mind constantly
Am I on the way I want my life to be
Am I happy?
Can I do anything about it?
I just want to be happy


But they say only when you stop looking for happiness
Or something you've always been looking for
It comes to you.

Is it true?

a musuem of broken parts

Writing something isn't easy.
Writing something from the deepest depths of yourself requires a long time breaking apart the components, segregating them, analysing and pondering over each element, then mixing them all up again.
Then you think about your respective thoughts and emotions.
Then you try to break them down into smaller digestible bites, enough to be comprehended.
After which, you break down each bite again, and analyse them through microscopes.

I think that's what's missing.

Take me on

In a different dimension, there exists a different me.

The different me who could think act work play and be nice all at the same time.

The different me who is independent and strong. 

The different me who is courageous, brave; unafraid to pursue anything in the world. 

The different me who is fearless and ready to take on anything. 

The different me, who would pursue anything the heart says. 

But that's just in another dimension.