Wednesday, December 07, 2022, 12:46 am Β·
While my liquid courage still runs wild,
While my liquid courage still runs wild,
every fibre of my being wants to shout out to the universe how much I still love you. It's so unfair. We broke up in 2017. How is it that 5 years later I still crave your hand, your attention, your soul?
The fact that you've returned to my life, in a manner which I had been in a life-or-death situation yet again, is such a slap to my stubbornness of letting you go.
I need to move on. I want to move on.
So why cant I?
Is the universe trying to tell me not to run, or is this a reverse psychology tactic to get me to double down on my self preservation?
I hate this. I hate you. But oh my god,
I still love you.
Even after all this time.
Labels: #pangthepopiah, my love for you (:, pang the popiah, what the flying fuck
.
Monday, October 30, 2017, 10:22 pm Β·
Blog Initiative Dedication
Blog Initiative Dedication
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
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
.
Wednesday, July 12, 2017, 1:53 pm Β·
ANIMATION AND CARTOON. WHATS WRONG WITH THAT. THEYRE NOT JUST FOR KIDS.
ANIMATION AND CARTOON. WHATS WRONG WITH THAT. THEYRE NOT JUST FOR KIDS.
i detest anyone who scoffs at the mere thought of watching a cartoon or animated film. THERE ISNT ANY DIFFERENCE BETWEEN CARTOONS AND DOCUMENTARY LIFESTYLE SHOWS BECAUSE THERE ARE TAKEAWAYS FOR EVERYONE AND EVERYTHING. short rant end.
# # #
I've set up my 3 major art hosts page: patreon, society6, inprint, arranged in a chronological order of decreasing priority. patreon will be the main priority for obvious reasons — there are people paying me on a monthly basis, which in turns, become my monthly payment/allowance. once i begin dedicating a big part of my life here, on the web, then i'll have to take it seriously hahaha patreon is a huuuge responsibility. it's almost another part-time job. once i start, i cannot afford to neglect it.
Labels: #suchafah, serious business, well now, what the flying fuck
.
Sunday, May 15, 2016, 4:03 pm Β·
the biggest reason
the biggest reason
for me to stay away from home from morning until late at night is because
yall are so fucking noisy and its noise that doesnt help me with my work at all.
today, i regret not going to school.
i also have to stop waiting for Pang to decide whether i should go to school.
if i wanna go to school and do work i should just fucking go and not wait for my man.
what the fuck were you thinking Fah now youre all pent-up and angry the whole Sunday.
yall are so fucking noisy and its noise that doesnt help me with my work at all.
today, i regret not going to school.
i also have to stop waiting for Pang to decide whether i should go to school.
if i wanna go to school and do work i should just fucking go and not wait for my man.
what the fuck were you thinking Fah now youre all pent-up and angry the whole Sunday.
Labels: what the flying fuck
.
im tired of fighting for my life everyday
# # # # #
this isnt home. this is a goddamn prison. why am i even restricted to scold my younger brother and teach him some manners. its not like the both of you are doing any good with him either. and what, just cos i open my mouth to speak to him regardless of my tone, thats a red alert for you? rude. you both are very rude. if this is how you treat your eldest daughter — like she doesnt exist — then I will really not want to exist.
you dont want me to compare between whoever so stop fucking differentiating the way you treat your kids. youve spoilt your son, youve chained your eldest daughter. what did the second child ever do for you, to you, to grant her this much ease at home when I cant even fucking smile or laugh freely? im fucking 24, but you still preach at me about life. im sick and tired of having to think about what to do with me, for you, by your standards, with your ideals all the fucking time. i cant be happy, i cant be me. you want me to be me, but you dont understand me. and when you dont understand me, you put me down. when you put me down, you use the harshest words possible to be uttered by a parent to their child. worse, uttered to their first child.
ive been living my life full of fear of negations, rejection, displeasure, by all your mental abuse. the words you throw at me, no filter, are as sharp as icicles. i have no idea, i have no faith, i have no trust, im definitely losing my respect to the both of you. it really saddens me that all my efforts are futile, trying to talk to you, to listen to you. when i get desperate and do crazy things to get you to see how im near my ends, you bring me down farther into the abyss. you dont see that I cant talk to anyone because I dont want to talk to anyone but you. the both of you. that im trying, for 10 years already, to try and talk to the both of you.
i dont understand and i dont know how you view me but i get the feeling that you both dont view me as a very bright person. i appear cheap, i appear vain, i appear violent. so you ditch me aside and gossip about me to each other, to other family members. i dont know if you notice, but by you doing all these things, its not actually tainting my name. it's making me appear more sympathetic to them, and its tainting your image both as a person and as a parent.
oh my god, Allah help me I dont know what the both of you want from me.
I know what I want. I KNOW. WHAT I WANT. to do. to buy. to get. to eat. I KNOW WHAT I WANT. I KNOW ME. but none of that matters because im straying waaay beyond what you had hoped i'd be. well, i never knew this. i never knew what you had wanted me to be. i never knew your expectations. so im always barely there. im barely doing it. what i do properly is to have fun. is to be happy. i do things that make me happy very well. BUT THE THINGS THAT MAKE ME HAPPY ARE THE THINGS YOU CLAIM TO BE BAD. YOU TRY TO KEEP THEM AWAY FROM ME. YOU TRY TO KEEP ME CONFINED. SHELTERED.
NO. THATS IS STUPID THAT IS HOMICIDAL HOW COULD YOU. I know what I want since I was young. I know what I want but I was never sure because YOU NEVER MADE ME FEEL IMPORTANT. APPRECIATED. GIFTED. I NEVER FELT POWERFUL TO LIVE MY OWN LIFE. heck I DONT KNOW WHAT THE FUCK IM NEEDED TO DO. and now, when Im so sure of what I want, the negation starts and Im back to square one.
Back to Square One. every single day. did you know that? No.
BECAUSE EVERY TIME I APPEAR TO BE MOODY OR CRYING, YOU TELL ME TO SHUT THE FUCK UP AND ASK ME WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH ME WITH THOSE RUDE, JUDGMENTAL EYES. I DONT NEED MONEY, GODDAMNIT. I WANT FUCKING DINNER WITH THE FUCKING FAMILY AND REGAIN THE IMPORTANCE FAMILY ONCE HAD TO ME. GOD FORBID I BEHAVE MYSELF OVER DINNER IF IT HAPPENS BECAUSE IT'LL MAKE ME SO HAPPY I'LL BE THE CRAZIEST, HAPPIEST PERSON IN THE WORLD.
but you wont know. you wouldnt. cos none of this matters. none of you talk to me. none of you listen.
i dont matter.
Labels: family, fight for freedom, this is why, what the flying fuck, why am I not at ease
.
Thursday, January 30, 2014, 10:14 pm Β·
Story of my life
Story of my life
Lets be honest here, yeah?
Nobody in their right mind likes to show their true shade to anyone. I say shade, not colour, because we're all actually of the same race — human race. I dont see the need to hide anything and yet, the inner guttural feelings us 'humans' possess relishes in the ability to mask. Why?
No one will ever really know.
So let me tell you. I lie. I lie everyfuckingday of my life. The moment I leave my bed, all hell gets settled behind the nose.
How do I lie? I lie by being brutal in honest opinions. I run my mouth before I process enough. Heck, I dont even process much. Living for the past 21years of my life has opened my eyes enough to the world's fuckery. Well, part of the world's fucks. Being asian is truly special. Being a brown asian is even much more enticing. Oh, being a brown asian of conservative culture and belief sure is amazeballs. Sure.
Tonight, I amazed myself. Enlightenment has graced my soul. So many feelings contained within this 5'2" of a puny body. The most apparent emotion(s) are 3 kinds;- thankful, scared, stupefied
Thankful. agreeing to work with Dad in his company, albeit reluctantly, was a massive opportunity boost. at the end of my supposed January contract right now, every ounce of my cell is screaming, warning, belittling me, saying: NOW THIS IS THE REAL WORLD FOR YOU, YOU LOUSY SPOILT BITCH HEL~LO. Im thankful for meeting the people Ive met, be it colleague-peers, super seniors or even just one-off acquaintances. Im especially thankful to the mentor thats been stuck with me and my prerogative(s). I have been such an asshole to everyone in my life, I know so, and shutting myself out has been the wisest option Ive ever made in my entire womanly life lolol so its like Ive started afresh here. steeled myself when meeting the unknown at baker. she who has been with me since my first day at work, until now, it's amazing. She is constantly an anchor in my emotions and my wayoflife so to speak. her impact has overthrown Andrew and Shane's morales that were once driven in me. I am thanking every single fucking fucks thats happened because it's made me conquer more balls than any tarzan can cope. so, thankyou kak fauzia.
Scared. after 3 years of graduating from school that was Singapore Polytechnic, life after has turned stockstill. Now that Ive decided to take my own steps, it's a whole chaos of stagefright because yo, the world's a stage. Sure, I love my parents even more than I have ever loved, absolutely gratified for their upting my childish teenage angst, but even now I find the need to rebel once is a while. It's all the adrenaline I need, the crazed rush that my soul needs to stay alive and living. but it scares me indefinitely. Everyday I wake up and Im scared. Im fucking scared of the mask that I have to put on once Im awake. Im scared of the decisions I have to make; what to wear, what to eat, who to smile to, how to speak, how to be nice etc.
But Ive definitely learned to live with it. It's a healthy dose of fear that will always work on your side if you keep your mental breakdowns in check.
Stupefied. adults can be quite the kids theyve always reprimanded for unruly behaviour. so many things are twisted up, and it's sickening to know that im moving straight ahead into such a world where grace and manners are no longer practiced, that being a fairly rationale person is quite a superhuman feat. this appalled feeling of having to fall my sights from certain adults and idols i had once respected is such a shock that it requires tremendous effort on my part to be able to carry on on my own. its stupefying, all these things that i can see, i can understand, these things that i have to absorb. its almost as if, despite my despise, i have to evolve into someone — or something — even far worse (or better, hopefully) in order to dodge all these cannonballs are that will somehow aim to destroy me in the nearest future possible.
my coat of armor is thinning, and i dont think im up for critical defences anymore. if anything, i am about to blindly shoot at the slightest red alert of fault that has now become a commoner. gone are the days of my ignorance. right now, i have to man up and prepare for battle.
every. fucking. day.
Nobody in their right mind likes to show their true shade to anyone. I say shade, not colour, because we're all actually of the same race — human race. I dont see the need to hide anything and yet, the inner guttural feelings us 'humans' possess relishes in the ability to mask. Why?
No one will ever really know.
So let me tell you. I lie. I lie everyfuckingday of my life. The moment I leave my bed, all hell gets settled behind the nose.
How do I lie? I lie by being brutal in honest opinions. I run my mouth before I process enough. Heck, I dont even process much. Living for the past 21years of my life has opened my eyes enough to the world's fuckery. Well, part of the world's fucks. Being asian is truly special. Being a brown asian is even much more enticing. Oh, being a brown asian of conservative culture and belief sure is amazeballs. Sure.
Tonight, I amazed myself. Enlightenment has graced my soul. So many feelings contained within this 5'2" of a puny body. The most apparent emotion(s) are 3 kinds;- thankful, scared, stupefied
Thankful. agreeing to work with Dad in his company, albeit reluctantly, was a massive opportunity boost. at the end of my supposed January contract right now, every ounce of my cell is screaming, warning, belittling me, saying: NOW THIS IS THE REAL WORLD FOR YOU, YOU LOUSY SPOILT BITCH HEL~LO. Im thankful for meeting the people Ive met, be it colleague-peers, super seniors or even just one-off acquaintances. Im especially thankful to the mentor thats been stuck with me and my prerogative(s). I have been such an asshole to everyone in my life, I know so, and shutting myself out has been the wisest option Ive ever made in my entire womanly life lolol so its like Ive started afresh here. steeled myself when meeting the unknown at baker. she who has been with me since my first day at work, until now, it's amazing. She is constantly an anchor in my emotions and my wayoflife so to speak. her impact has overthrown Andrew and Shane's morales that were once driven in me. I am thanking every single fucking fucks thats happened because it's made me conquer more balls than any tarzan can cope. so, thankyou kak fauzia.
Scared. after 3 years of graduating from school that was Singapore Polytechnic, life after has turned stockstill. Now that Ive decided to take my own steps, it's a whole chaos of stagefright because yo, the world's a stage. Sure, I love my parents even more than I have ever loved, absolutely gratified for their upting my childish teenage angst, but even now I find the need to rebel once is a while. It's all the adrenaline I need, the crazed rush that my soul needs to stay alive and living. but it scares me indefinitely. Everyday I wake up and Im scared. Im fucking scared of the mask that I have to put on once Im awake. Im scared of the decisions I have to make; what to wear, what to eat, who to smile to, how to speak, how to be nice etc.
But Ive definitely learned to live with it. It's a healthy dose of fear that will always work on your side if you keep your mental breakdowns in check.
Stupefied. adults can be quite the kids theyve always reprimanded for unruly behaviour. so many things are twisted up, and it's sickening to know that im moving straight ahead into such a world where grace and manners are no longer practiced, that being a fairly rationale person is quite a superhuman feat. this appalled feeling of having to fall my sights from certain adults and idols i had once respected is such a shock that it requires tremendous effort on my part to be able to carry on on my own. its stupefying, all these things that i can see, i can understand, these things that i have to absorb. its almost as if, despite my despise, i have to evolve into someone — or something — even far worse (or better, hopefully) in order to dodge all these cannonballs are that will somehow aim to destroy me in the nearest future possible.
my coat of armor is thinning, and i dont think im up for critical defences anymore. if anything, i am about to blindly shoot at the slightest red alert of fault that has now become a commoner. gone are the days of my ignorance. right now, i have to man up and prepare for battle.
every. fucking. day.
Labels: #dailyink, fah says, this is the world we live in, what are we to do with this situation, what the flying fuck
.