Hey blog!

It is suddenly 2026 now; and worse, it is already February. I didnt even realise January passed. My schedule has been packed, and I feel even more chained down with low spirits due to multiple reasons. I do feel bogged down because of my principles in doing any task and responsibilities that come with whatever I'd agreed on — primarily with paid jobs — and my constant need for money. I think Ive come to the stage in my life where Im significantly losing aura AND patience, so Im going about things in an almost rash manner.

Trying not to blame myself too much with this because the truth of the matter is that I have been hustling for a damn long time so naturally, all that patience I've mentally prepared for behaves like how an elastic band would... keep pulling steadily for too long and the bonds are bound to loosen. As you do with life, the stage of feeling jaded and discouraged is back.

What's terrifying is that this heaviness feels veeery comfortable sitting in the space right in the middle of my chest. I am losing strength.

Off the top of my head is always money matters — which hurts a lot more this time because I am in desperate need for funds if I am to grab the opportunity to move out with the 35-year-old single plans + schemes. I need to plan and execute right away. Taking inspiration from all that is around me may become a tough job because I need to test out what works for me — not just in style but also in my needs of things to move fast (which I low-key am aware is not possible).

I made a rash decision to fly to Korea at the end of February — because Cookie Run Kingdom exhibitions blinded me — so I guess we have to see how I take things from here.

My schedule has been really ridiculous, but I guess I cannot complain if I need the money. I just... need... to be smarter and move faster with this. SIGH

Labels: #suchafah, how do we deal with this, well now

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Ive been slipping into a mess of no productivity every other hour/day.
There seems to be much to do but I just cant bring myself to do it.

I want to draw. I really do. But all these little excuses about not doing them...
Im not sure where this reluctance is coming from. It's very unnerving.

Staying home has been great but I guess Im losing my mind unconsciously.
I miss going out. I want to be active. I think working out from home isnt a problem...
I just have to tackle my habits first, change these "lack of desire to move" habits.

Waking, warm water, working out, shower.
This sequence in the morning. It has to happen.
Otherwise, I dont know what to do with myself.

All these words, but I cant even keep to one.

It's disappointing.

I guess Im just waiting on GOT7 to comeback... give me a purpose to move.
It's pathetic. I know. But, Im sorry. This is what the fibres of my being are saying.

Come and Get it.

xoxo

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Edit: I definitely need a loose schedule. I need to start doing EVERYTHING now.

Labels: #suchafah, how do we deal with this, what do i do, whats next

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this darkness, this gray energy...
a part of me wants it to stay. another part of me doesn't. I'm tired of the cycle. but I'm also tired of getting tired of the cycle.

another atla marathon just ended. thank God for Netflix and smart tv. the good and bad is prevalent in all of us. it's a matter of perspective. and also hope.

right now, the latter is something I'm severely lacking. I dont know why I choose to stay in today... I've been choosing to stay in since weeks ago. what relapse is this reaction to?

what warped self-blaming game am I playing again?

I need an uncle iroh, also a zuko, in my life. and they need to stay. I think I have attachment issues. shit.

Labels: how do we deal with this, stop hurting me, such a pain, why am I not at ease

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Since 2005, Ive documented my stupidity, emotions and thoughts in this blog. After more than 1,200 posts, I think it's time I acknowledge the tremendous positive effects from this unlisted online, digital journal. Given that this blog is only known to a handful of those who mattered, I was able to be as honest and as truthful to my emotions and thought processes on the fly. With there being a mobile app for this blog, centered purely on the basis of content making, continuing in earnest to jot down every raw, fresh memory in hope that it will come in handy someway, somehow.

Thankfully, and a little bit of unfortunate circumstances, it's come to prove handy. Recalling the previous episodes from minor grievances to major breakdowns, I can look back and make the necessary comparisons. Best of all, I can look back and lay claim that I own this misery, this blight that I am, because together with it, I also own the light and happiness that comes with. Because I deserve it.

I know I do, but whether I can exercise the things I am able to register is a different thing.

Everything came to a head on Sunday evening. The truth was, the book end Ive placed in my head to separate my fiction and non-fiction sections began to crumble. The fiction section, a nicer term for the ugly, and the non-fiction, a more reluctant term for grounded reality. The book end was slowly being obliterated by the sheer force from the fiction section. The entity was slowly overwhelming me in a way I cannot provide a counter attack. It swam around tirelessly, swimming around my head, leaving swirling trails of excruciating migraine.

And then I snapped.

All I see was black and these geometric colours where my meek voice was trying to fend off the shrill voice of a woman I cannot identify. Til now, that was all I could remember. I faintly recall my legs carrying me to ly's place. I faint recall ly's presence all around me. I was out, and Im still not sure what happened in real time. It was 8:09PM when I last looked at my watch then — I almost stumbled down the bus. I came to on ly's bed, and it was 10PM.

Ive never been on this side of the A&E — the inside. I was put on a bed after the nurse said I have good friends, and I was left to observe the situation around me. Alone. In A&E. The doctor that examined me was nice. He said it's got a very long and difficult name — it's true I cant remember it either, now that I try to recall lolol a lot of waiting, a lot of thoughts, a lot more voices I try to shut down. fnad and ly sent me to A&E, and they stayed there waiting for me until well past 2AM — before I was transported to IMH an hour later.

Jurong doctor was great, he asked me questions that I can relate to and answer immediately — sense of hearing: I heard the voices, my meek voice soft as if its barely holding on, the other voice overwhelming, multiplied in over my head; sense of sight: no I had my eyes closed. scrunched up actually. saw geometrical shapes in ever-changing colour. varying intensities. when it first hit, I saw flashing red-blue-purples. then it gradually changed to yellow-orange. and then some soft, pale yellow. then pulse green, and then navy blue all the way. sense of touch: I didnt feel any crawling under my skin, no tingle whatsoever. sense of smell: I dont recall smelling anything out of the ordinary but my breathing felt like it was hitched. sense of taste: bitterness. maybe it wasnt my tongue. maybe that was something else. Jurong doctor was reassuring, comforting, and really nice. I didnt have the chance to thank him whole-heartedly — Im hoping my constant expression of gratitude is enough.

IMH doctor on the other hand, went through quizzing questions with me like another polyclinic assessment. He asked me what were my thoughts like, the history and nature of my attacks. Honestly how would I know. It's my first breakdown that I didnt see coming, and that I had allowed. Then again, what was I expecting? Possible triggers at that point of time were channeled towards my family — particularly my mum. So we went through questions that didnt seem to be helping me because at the end of the whole thing, he said that I have depression but its not severe because my mood is the only one that is not affected, while everything is seems pretty drastic. There was no need to ward me, so he pressed for anti-depressants and psychologist appointment.

I went home on the cab, and because I didnt bring my wallet, had to call Mum down to get me and pay for the cab fare. It was 6AM. In the lift, Mum asked as bluntly as she could. I refused to talk too much though. That was it.

Farah Nad came over to visit me earlier. Both she and ly kept saying I shouldnt beat myself up for 'troubling' others since it's the least anyone should do for their loved ones. I had to differ, but I kept it inside because it was family. And thats the problem, isnt it? I kept to myself so much that it just overflows in such a way? Ironic how family is all there is and all there was.
We talked about things, shared stories, and I tried to find out what happened while I was out.

It broke me to see her try and explain that the plain look on my face that night crushed the both of them so much — my darkened circles, bulging never-before-seen eye bags, my faint energy.

It rained during maghrib. I dedicated the sudden blasting pour to myself and started reading some blog posts before fnad came over. Reaching home, I only managed to sleep for 2 hours - 8AM-10AM. It will be a great sleep tonight, I can feel it. So heres to a good end of the day of trauma: Happy Halloween gang hahaha. There are two songs that have been my saving grace every morning, and every night. The obvious, first one is One More Light by Linkin Park, and the other is this.. Evanescence's My Heart is Broken.



I will wander 'til the end of time, torn away from you

I pulled away to face the pain
I close my eyes and drift away
Over the fear that I will never find
A way to heal my soul
And I will wander 'til the end of time
Torn away from you

My heart is broken
Sweet sleep, my dark angel
Deliver us from sorrow's hold
(Over my heart)

I can't go on living this way
But I can't go back the way I came
Chained to this fear that I will never find
A way to heal my soul
And I will wander 'til the end of time
Half alive without you

My heart is broken
Sweet sleep, my dark angel
Deliver us

Change - open your eyes to the light
I denied it all so long, oh so long
Say goodbye, goodbye

My heart is broken
Release me, I can't hold on
Deliver us
My heart is broken
Sweet sleep, my dark angel
Deliver us
My heart is broken
Sweet sleep, my dark angel
Deliver us from sorrow's hold

Labels: #suchafah, family, how do we deal with this, how long have i kept this in, how now brown cow, it's so hard to express this shit in words, keep calm and carry fah, well now, what the flying fuck, word vomit

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Earlier today, I finally hauled ass to the clinic. I sure as hell didnt know how to ask for help so I just blurted out whatever. The initial verdict is that I have severe, or clinical depression. Basically, the GP — who was a kind, sweet lady — got me filling in a survey to assess things for the last 2 weeks. A score gets tabulated after the completion, and the result is gauged through the score numbers. According to the survey, I have severe depression. The GP expressed worry, and asked me a few questions to clarify certain things. There were hints that I might have bipolar type-2. The GP was glad to know that despite my pretty bad state, I had no intention of committing suicide — I detest that idea. To be fair, I have a few friends who suffer from depression themselves though they may not necessarily be diagnosed so I do have some sort of safety net. After more gentle questioning, the GP suggests the next step to be a session with their resident psychiatrist. The suggestion terrifies me a little; I'd much prefer to stay away from medications. I requested for a psychologist instead and the GP seemed to agree.

So todays consultation probes an initial verdict of clinical depression with possibility of bipolar type 2. While the need to tell my parents are strong, I believe that I shouldnt cause unnecessary worry to them; Im sure their conservative nature, especially mam, will not be of help to my mental state at all.

I honestly thought I was prepared. I knew I was depressed, maybe even hosting bipolar disorder, but I didnt know it was that bad. Ive informed close friends and those who matter. All that's left are my family members. It is a shock to me. This initial diagnosis took me by surprise. The next appointment with a psychologist/psychiatrist will be on 3rd November. I have to wait it out till then.

Bismillah.

Labels: #suchafah, how do we deal with this, how now brown cow, oh dear, oh my god

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in any case, regardless of the events that are bound to happen in the near future, my tentative plans will remain as-is in chronological importance of later September to early January.

Labels: how do we deal with this, the top priorities and golden things, things to see

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As of late, I have noticed Im frequently getting upset with Pang because of certain things that he do and say — Im sure it's because of me, the way I behave or my speech or something. To be fair, I dont blame his reactions to me — the glaring, the clipped answers, the sideeyes, even the half-ass hand-holding at times. I wont give him flak for that, but I am blaming his mentality and routine of keeping things to himself.

He doesnt share his stories with me the way he does with Brotherhood and the boys. I know Im not like the boys, duh, but Im technically a tomboy. You being judgmental and racist and whatever prejudiced It's just how bad I can take it, and I dont know if I can because HE NEVER TELLS ME STORIES FROM HIS BRAIN. How am I supposed to know whats going on if he doesnt tell me. His mind functions at least twice the speed faster than my mind, if not more. His clipped and brief responses has only caused me to be even more quiet. I dont want to be the one talking, I want him to talk too. But if he doesnt want to talk, yet he doesnt seem to respond nor appreciate me talking, then I'll keep quiet. I'll answer his questions instead.

I can do things auto, but in order to reach the state of autopilot I need to have enough information before I can pilot on auto, no? T_T



And then he tells me he doesnt have enough time. For food. For rest. For games. For me. Really? But how come he can manage to, like, play 3 games of Magic and going over to Punggol to get his game the past few days? I mean, sure, it's only the first week of school. But to me, he makes his workload predicament such a chore and ass that Im not allowed to touch him. Even replying to me is a chore. If he really did have to press for time, I dont mind him playing his games but cant 1 round of game be enough? or keep to an hour max at most? And getting his stuff from Punggol, cant he ask me to do it instead? He can pass and tell me what to look out for and collect on his behalf than going all the way down himself. Punggol isnt your back-door neighbour okay: it's the literal other end of west side. Protocol put upon yourself is protocol — getting shit done yourself cos you do it best, I get it — but if hes willing to compromise our quality time with that pathetic "No Time" excuse yet do all these kind of stupid shit, then I think it's only fair I flip the table on him...

Like how it's so obvious that the lecturer said he'd pay Pang for his time to 'TA' Wednesday's Figure Drawing class because hes bribing him, but omg there are other people that can do his job??!??!!! Sure, D's spoken to CalTan and MTan but thats just jackshit. D knows Pang's standard, and the amount of time required but he still wants to shag down dP's batch of 2015 top student with this needless Ta-ing. Last semester, pantatkicks and his circle did just fine hosting the figure drawing classes. I dont see why Pang has to do it again. Renqi never had to go through all that bull... probably because sensei and Pang were around. So it doesnt make sense why Pang has to or wants to do this TA shit. It's not for money, definitely not. Loyalty? To who?! Favours? Mind you, the favour he has to reconsider for is me.

At the rate this is going, I literally have to distance myself physically and mentally, even stretching out the possibility of psycho-ing myself into thinking that Pang's figuratively still in US... because at this rate

my partner is going to be so distant from me that I cant reach him. And he wont let me in to whatever's going on in his schedule — cant even update his calendar properly even he bothered — or whatever's going on in his head — his story previously wasnt working out and he didnt update me and swirled into his own distress alone — so it's ever the worst for me. Pang wont approach me for help and because he doesnt want to think that he's 'disturbing' me even when I dont fucking mind. I know I suck in comparison to Pang's quality and standard of things, so ask me for help for things that I can help. Like story!?!!!??!!

The only way for us to work this through, to be really fucking honest, is for me to wait and steel it out.



Im fucking sad right now goddamnit.

Labels: how do we deal with this, pang the popiah, what are we to do with this situation, whats next, why am I not at ease, why you do this to me

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I blame Keane for bringing out the extreme emotion in me tonight. I accidentally flipped on Keane's "Somewhere Only We Know" and all these emotions and thoughts start engulfing me. I dont blame it. Tonight's been good. It was only a few hours with my love, rushing about, but it was good. Even in the rush, I could still see him clearly.

Maybe it was Redmond, but Pang feels a lot better now. The purple aura around him has greatly subsided. maybe it's because of Magic:The Gathering's guild colours, maybe it's truly him, but pang's got a lot of blue and yellow going on now. I guess I can say I see some pinks, but it's still predominantly purple. some change is change regardless. some change is good.

From the instant I saw him at the airport after 3months, the first contact of his hands, the lines on his face, the gentleness of his kiss and his touch, it was very different. The distance has helped. I felt even stronger because of it, and I was certain he's brought about a different providence. It didnt matter to me anymore, that he had spent great and awful times without me for 3months — in those times, he learnt and he grew. He's better prepared for things not yet planned, but he's also embraced the imperfections all around. Embrace, or let up expecting from imperfections that cannot be changed. Pang's gotten used to the idea of sacrifice that there's a new vulnerability to him that I seek to protect.

Maybe it's because of Keane, but I got really emotional after reaching home tonight. I shared Keane's youtube playlist on facebook and fifi reached me on whatsapp. We started going on about our usual deeper thoughts. The difference this time was my adamant lay down of wanting to let him know — letting someone know — that I have been very prepared to move forward to the next chapter with Pang. I had been very certain 6months in, and it hasnt changed. Albeit, so did the unchanging fear. That one fear that I will always hold on to. That one fear that ensures I have my feet down, my reality check. The fear of my parents not accepting the plans I see for Pang and I because of religion. To be honest, I may be willing to move forward, but I may not necessarily be ready. Im still so young and naive, tired out from all the needless battles growing up has put me through — the process of adulting. Today's main beef was in the afternoon with mam: she told me to get working already since everyone has already got a job and I need to secure my finances (for the family and for me). note: the sister is still at home at this time, sleeping. another note: mam never worked the moment she married paps. calculative me has speculated enough, my working experience right at this moment is more than both the sister and mam combined. she dont get no say in this. so I pretended she didnt say anything and went to my room. Extremely annoyed, but I couldnt pray cos I still wasnt clean.

You see, money isnt the problem. It can be earned. Knowledge and experience are far more important. These are wise words said by so many people: even paps and Pang has said so. Theres a saying about how you'd want a partner that resembles your dad cos fathers are your first boyfriends (for the fortunate ones to have a father. next best thing are the father figures, and some are actually better than biological dads.) So I dont get the fuss mam keeps pulling on me about money. I aim to secure a full-time job by the end of the year, or early next year, with Wabbit. Even then, I'd still like to invest part of my time creating art, ensuring that my dream of following into part of Loish's footsteps come true; the selling art and publishing books part. If I dont have automatic CPF input, I'll do it manually. It's always better to have liquid assets on hand because interest rates can get pretty perplexing — at least to me. I would like to move out of Singapore too, to be honest. So Im not keen on investing too much except for the sake of my parents. So, money and CPF arent a problem.

Religion is.

Now, I dont think I need to get into the thick of it right now. But the conversation I've just had with fifi found ourselves in agreement. The conservative culture lies in just that: our culture. It's not religion. It's not our Gods and Prophets. It's us. It's humans. Religion is a guide for us, because the divine know that humans are extremely flawed. The rules adhere to strong language for the Gods were certain that humans can only be convinced in one way: fear. And boy, do They know it. Humans fear of losing, fear of pain, fear of every negative thing in the world done unto them. Yet, humans produce and verbalize the exact same thing they hate. It's not surprising that now, in this generation and age, the believe and faith in a religion is dwindling at an alarming rate. People preach religion, yet they leave out the love and peace every. single. religion. actually advocates and strives for. It seems that, for the majority, the culture has become their religion. Being Malay does not always equate to being a Muslim, but it has become so. Im proud to be a Muslim, but so many have tainted and misunderstood the holy Quran's words, Allah's words, that I've lost trust in man to guide me to better understand its meaning. At least, I should start looking harder for reliable, trustworthy people. Maybe, if I go to the cemeteries, I'll be able to meet those people. It's too bad that a lot of great people have passed. God surely loves them more, and wishes to protect them from the toxicity of a dying race called humans.

The point is, I am willing to move forward. I may not be financially ready, but I am willing to step beyond the boundary of my safety and comfort. Im sick of being pulled back by parents, by rules, by words that dont mean a thing except to prove the contradiction that takes place immediately after, the double standard that hurts me more than anything else. I missed my younger self where I didnt understand the existence of inhibitions, where I had truly yo-lo to the maximum extent I was initially unaware of, where I could stand my ground and say no because I didnt want to. I missed the times where I could be selfish without any consequences.

What's the point of this post again?

I dont care what is it, I dont need no damn marriage. I just need Pang to be with me 's all.

Labels: #suchafah, all my feels, how do we deal with this, pang the popiah, such hope very pray much wish so good, this is the world we live in

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