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I'm all topsy turvy,

Cocoa’s 9th Birthday

Friday, March 10, 2017

Yet another incredible year, I think for the past year, Cocoa has done many great things like sitting in the kitchen whilst I indulge in my sob-fest, leaning against me while I’m doing my make-up and kicking my face when I’m in deep slumber during my sleep-ins. 


She’s really obedient so its quite easy to get her to pose with her cake. 

But like any other human child, my fur baby is actually going through a phase of NOT wanting any pictures taken WITH me. 












yet she so cooly photobombs my selfies. 








Yet another annoying year that I cherish so much. Things would have taken much worst a turn if not for you. You don’t know how grateful to have you. Gratitude. 

Weight of words

Sunday, March 5, 2017
Dear H, I know you don’t ever care about me anymore, but I still hope that one day you will see this. I wouldn’t know if you did, but I will just assume that somehow it will reach your ears.

I haven’t written anything solid ever since 17th February, these hands work like magic when devastated. But writing.. writing breathes life to the whole ordeal. Writing makes everything a reality, a reality that I wasn’t ready to handle. Words always meant a grave deal to me, that’s why I like reading. That’s why in our days together, I made you write me letters. I loved reading them, and I know you know that because I often “um-chio” to your hilarious comedic love letters – something I will always keep in my heart.

It has been 16 days.

I just want you to know that the theory of “2-weeks” have proven itself to be untrue. You do not stop loving somebody within the span of 2 weeks. You don’t just stop loving somebody. It had sadly made me realise that I have never loved anybody until/after you. Tragically, your reactions towards everything have revealed to me that you were never in love with me. Not in the way, I had with you. I guessed I won the ‘I-love-you-more’ contest. You loved the idea of me. The chirpy, cheerful sexy girlfriend who gives you trouble but always had the puppy eyes to charm you back into loving arms. Once you opened your eyes and realise how much of a trouble I really am, you took off. You said to give time, time. That my best day might have yet to happen, but I stopped harbouring hope that things will get better. Maybe they never do. I do not care for things to be better anymore. I still hurt. I no longer shriek, but that doesn’t mean I am not in pain. Wounds are still fresh like it has only been inflicted yesterday. But that’s okay, please bear with me.

I kept going through the memories, the residues of what I had with you and now all I am left with are distorted visions of how great those three years were. Was the break up your fault or mine? Did I initiated it? I don’t think I did, because I remember you made me promise you to never talk about leaving, and dear how could I possibly do that to you? Then again, you also promised me that you will love and take care of me for life. Was it something I did? I can’t remember them now, the faded laughs and good memories we had are now nightmares that clung onto me every slumber I take. I see your face every night. One night, I dreamt you tried to kill me. And even in my dying time, I looked at you and can only feel love.

I held on so tightly to every single one of your words and promises, and honestly, that was what killed me. I trusted in the weight of your words, and it left me brutally shocked and wounded. You probably cared because of the person you are. You care out of default. Your last words to me were, “remember to take out your contacts”. And I thought that was the most ridiculous thing to say to somebody that you rejected in spite of her tearful pleas. You are a good person. Something I mumbled to my mother when she found me on the floor you returned me to. And she said, something along the lines of: “yes, he is a good man, and I loved him too. But the truth remains is that he does not love you anymore. If he can leave you here crying and in pain, then he is no longer the good man you know or love. And from this night, neither will my love be for him.”

Not that she bore any grudges against you. I believe to my mother, you’re still a good man who did what you had to. I believe she still love you. And I know every single ‘ruthless’ thing you did, you didn’t do it because you found me annoying. For all I cared, you would have just let it pass. You would have tolerated. But you did what you did so I could move on. That’s the nature of you. And for the pain you’ve inflicted on me, I just hope you know that I have long forgiven you. For the pain and trouble I rained on you, I wish you find heart somewhere to forgive me. I shouldn’t have reacted out of desperation. I became the demon I swore I’ll never be when I find myself cornered.

Remember I told you my biggest fear was drowning? I explained how I hated the feeling of struggling under water, like I couldn’t even grab something to channel that fight or flight adrenaline to. I hated the feeling of helplessness, I hated that feeling like I have succumb to some sort of fate when I wasn’t given a fair level to fight. And that night, that was it. Drowning. Watching you send me back home, like my dad after my parents got divorced really got me. It was like history repeating and I did everything I did to run away from that. I felt like I was drowning, that every organism in me were working against me. To suffocate me. I had to breathe. Sometimes the panic attack sends me in cold sweats. That fed the demon, the desperation. In my mind, it was all like “C’mon even S gets a second chance”, and we all share the same sentiments when it comes to her. Although, we were the last one to them. I was so desperate to have things work out. I was like a cornered beast scratching up a metal wall.

I wasn't breathing.

I sobered up in days to come, but I still have the destructive bile within me. I still believe that ceasing to exist would relief me. The only reason I have not do so is because I am a prisoner of love and kinship. My passing would not only destroy the ones I leave behind, but will also plague you eternally of guilt. Thus living was the only thing I could do for those who love/loved me. I yet draw breath so you and my family can find comfort in my existing. It still hurts, but I will get used to it. But if hurting is the only thing left that I can do for you, I will soldier on the pain for the rest of my life so you and everybody else can find peace and happiness.

Initially, I thought the way to cope with loneliness was to surround yourself with friends. Jam-pack my schedule with friends. However, thats like english medicine, it treats the symptoms and not the cause. Whenever the company’s gone, I still feel your grip on my hand. Something I am learning and trying to forget.

There are many alternatives, but for the next few weeks to come, I am trying to recoup from solitude – back to the place I was. Exploring fields and places alone on my bike like I did when I was a child. Remember those stories I told you, when I took my grandma’s bike and explored a small part of AMK? Maybe I should relive those moments again.

My mum says I am silly to think I will never fall in love again, but I feel that she’s the silly one. You can only truly love one person your entire life. Unconditionally, undoubtedly, love a person. We are mere mortals, we do not have the capacity to love so deeply twice. I might ‘love’ another, but that will never hit the silver of intensity I had for you. Even after all the things we went through, I just hope that you will be happy. I hope nobody will ever put you through this kind of pain. I hope when you’re done having fun, you’ll find a loving wife and have a loving family. One that loves your family as your family have loved me. I hope you find somebody who matches your quirk, your random farts and one that tolerate your leg-shaking and nose-digging. I always hate that, but really if you stopped doing that I would think that you’re no longer the H I know and love.

And I can go on, paragraphs and paragraphs, about how I feel and how I think our love is like. Sadly, the Z monsters have reported to get me to work. I hate it when I write incoherently, but thats okay, I don’t think anybody reads this place after I abandoned it.

Funny how social media was of paramount importance, and now that you’re gone, I don’t really care anymore.