An End to a Year and the Myth of New Beginnings

All of us look back to a certain time in our lives, seeking for the same turbulence of the New Year celebration and trying to relive the excitement we once had as a child, but finding instead that all of our attempts only lead us to a place where it is silent and calm.

Welcome to the world of adulthood. 

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All I Want for Christmas

One thing I know for certain is that the holidays in the blogging world is never complete without blogmas, a special blogging tradition featuring Christmas-themed blog posts which usually run from the first of December up to Christmas Day. Continue reading “All I Want for Christmas”

Mourning Diaries

Some things are hard to write about. After something happens to you, you go to write it down, and either you over dramatize it or underplay it, exaggerate the wrong parts or ignore the important ones. At any rate, you never write it quite the way you want to.

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Homecoming

My head was up in the clouds today: soaring like a lonely flying creature in the gloom of this inclement weather, allowing itself to be blown away by the gust of these stormy skies.

My only source of stillness was the thought of coming back to the university, to that one place in the world I can always come back to and call home. Continue reading “Homecoming”

In Remembrance of Youth

Weekends are for crashing into bed and tucking yourself beneath blankets; your favorite teenage playlist banging rock music in every corner of the room as if it is some kind of a personal familiar comfort, melting the world of its temporary intimacy and sense.

Weekends are for reminiscing and travelling back in time. Your unmade bed is a space machine and your imagination are wings transporting you to a decade of wander and wild spirited youth. Continue reading “In Remembrance of Youth”

An Ode to Sinking Sorrows

There should be a word for the gap in our souls, for this hollow space in our chest where our hearts used to be.

I reach out for myself, dragging my hand all the way down my trembling lips, my bruised neck, my aching collarbones, and notice the cracks stretching infinitely into that lonely cave they call heartbreak. I let my hand wander further and find my skin a vast ocean of memories. My eyes water, my tears forming pool and tracing an island of scars.

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Inside my Homicide: A Verse in Purification

I thought I would never to be able to bring myself to write another entry here.

But here I am once again: scribbling a letter after another until I finally make up a word, a sentence, a paragraph that’s lucid enough to express my apparent ambiguity and my obscure speculations about the world, about everything I know (or thought I knew).

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At the Mercy of Mnemosyne

The end of February always brings a certain kind of sadness to me: sharp, weighty and wordless like a falling dagger to the chest, hammering through the flesh and beating my heart to death. Out of all the months in the year, February is the most difficult to say goodbye to, because the farewell only acknowledges the arrival of a new month, my birth month, and that for me is more than terrifying.

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Farewell Fire Monkey: A Year in Overview

As a kid, I’ve always been fascinated by the idea of a Lunar New Year; by the simple, striking truth that not everyone subscribes to the Gregorian version of time and that there are people out there in the world whose time are patterned after the movement of the moon. For my young wandering mind, the moon (and the entire outer space) became a source of sheer curiosity and interest, and every time I looked up to the night sky, I grew more and more amazed by the invisible force of that pale white sphere named Luna.

But having been raised in a strict conservative Christian home, I was discouraged to entertain the idea of a Lunar New Year, together with the myths and traditions that are associated with it, and was commanded to abandon my acceptance and faith in an alternate discourse of time.

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Carry on to where Green is Home

Leaving behind 2016 also means to me leaving behind Rose Quartz and Serenity. I could still remember how this time last year I was so giddy to find out that two of my most favorite hues have been chosen to be Pantone’s 2016 Color of the Year. From pastel skies and hair styles and clothing aesthetics, I let my heart waddle in joy over my favorite colors for one entire year, until it was no more.

pantone-greenery

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Unrequited Love as Religion

Certain conversations never leave my head. They linger in me like traces of smoke after a bonfire is doused with water. They hang onto me like memorial lanterns, constantly parading themselves in front of my weary eyes, demanding to be felt and comprehended until I finally give up the resistance and give in to remembering.

Here is a memory.

I look back to one sunny day in March: by the hall way of the sixth floor of the university, the entire view beneath us glimmered in the light of the noontime sun and the sticky breeze blew me away as in a daydream. Someone was speaking to me but her words came off as indistinct murmur as I went about staring mindlessly at the cumulus clouds over us. She nudged me twice, thrice before I managed to pull myself back to Earth once again. Her voice was intrusive when she burst out her question.

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Project December: 21 Days of Green Tea

This month I made a promise to purge myself from the grime that surrounds my soul.

It was kind of a shame how it took me this much time before I even began to notice and to realize that I was already ten-feet deep into the poison which, for all these years, I have clung into and suckled upon like a starving infant.

As a symbol of this newfound pact, I am going to shower myself with green tea for the first 21 days of December. I’m on my 16th day now, and struggling with consistency. I know it might sound odd the way I gather things and create unnecessary connections between them (like my inner thoughts and herbal drinks) but this is just me and this is how I function. I need a certain kind of a myth, a symbol to fasten myself onto, otherwise all of my attempts will fizzle into thin air just as easily as a blink of an eye.

I am never blessed with optimism, having been reared in the womb of melancholia. But this time—at least for this time, I am going to tell myself to look at the brighter side of things and to take this life one steady cup at a time.

project-green-tea