It is with growing up that I realise that I have to do the things I don't want to do, listen to people who have better decision-making skills than I do and accept the things that I can't.

I purposely don't do the things people ask me to do because I don't want them to assume that they have the power over me to convince me to do the things that I don't want to do. OR even if I want to do it, I'm not letting you tell me how and when to do it. Because I'll do it in my own time. And after years and years of being forced to do shit and being told to be a certain way, I just don't want to listen to anyone any more.

It's hard to explain and articulate, but it's the fear that you'll let someone else's opinions and thoughts take precedence over your own, that someone else has the ability to control. And I'm terrified of that possibility, so I try to minimise that risk of that happening. It makes sense in my head.

I am a stubborn child - but it's the only way I know how to be without letting my guard down.

two futures divided by a parapet

I spotted you walking home, six floors down and across the parapet. You were so infinitely small just then. If I held up my thumb and focused hard with the one eye I kept open, I could wipe you away – just like that. But how is it that such a physically small being still does funny big things to my heart?

You stood next to me and said, him again. I said, yes, yes, him again, him always maybe forever. But this time, I feel the corners of my lips pull up and as I flicked off the last of my cigarette and asked you for another, I feel this chuckle threatening to escape from the back of my teeth. Because you’re silly.

It’s always funny how life pans out and it was just that morning that I still dream of your face even though I hardly see you anymore. How many screams does it take to wipe out a memory of a memory? How many lifetimes does it take for someone to run and catch up with another person again? How many universes have to exist just so that pathsn ever cross? For the days where I want to catch up with you, there are also other days that I wish I didn’t have to see you. Today is the former, tomorrow is the latter, and maybe the day after a new permutation.

And sometimes I wonder, would I rather live for a thousand years? Or have ten lives of a hundred years? And if I had ten lives of a hundred years, would it be a clean slate all over again for each life, or would I have the courage to ferverntly catch up with you and the rest of my one-sided memories for the rest of the nine?

The other cigarette doesn’t come as easily from you this time – you wiped the blood away from under my nose with your fingers and told me to stop smoking but as I’ve told you before, you can’t make me do the things I don’t want to do, and you can’t stop me from doing the things I want to do. The truth is, if unforgiveness is the poison that doesn’t kill the other party, but only yourself, then I’m okay with it. I’m okay with it.

24 and 7:12

december is flinging me in the washing machine and spinning and spinning me till my bones get grounded down at the sides and getting smoother and smoother and smoother till some parts disappear before it spits me out overstretched like a useless garment

trailer park and ride

Some days, I wish I didn’t have to go out because I am unable to control my moods anymore. Halfway today, I really just wanted to curl up and cry. The next moment, I feel like I have too much energy. But at least I’m concentrating on something.

Today I painted A and R’s new place. It’s a new place. 新家. 小窝. Regardless of what you call it, it’s a home only because someone made it out to be one. I thought of how close we were to making our own version of a 家, and I tried to push it out of my head almost as quickly as it entered. But it stuck and wouldn’t fly away.


On the way to dinner, the three of us walked through a dark alley and A reached out for R’s hand immediately and walked closer. Walking from the back, I thought, how goddamn lucky is it for two people who understand each other to be together? It was such a moment, I really couldn’t help but smile. Despite all the prickly growing and boundary pushing that hurts sometimes, it counts for something in the end. I was so sure that I would be jealous of seeing something I do not have, but I surprise myself sometimes. At the end of the day, there are some people whom I love so much that as long as they’re happy, it’s hard for me not to be happy too.

But there’s my version of love where I love far too much and it transforms into an obsessive, psychotic version of a fucked up feeling - possibly bordering on hate - that does not make any sense to me anymore. I have it reserved for some people and I think that’s holding me back from building up my own version of a 家.



Stretching the past into the present

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August in Busan was still summer. I was at the Gwangalli beach alone and for the first time, realised how a vast a beach was and how small we really are.

September in Busan was windy, balmy, and truth to be told, there are some days I cannot remember how it smells, or what it looks like. And on the days when I do, I’m wondering, maybe I’m there and asleep, and actually am dreaming about my life here. Maybe time twisted and bent over backwards to make something happen. I remember my head twisting into the crook of your neck to shield myself from the wind and the sand. But I don’t actually remember the details anymore. It remains to be just a memory that continues to burn at the back of my eyelids, sometimes perhaps so bright that I have to pull my eyes back open to extinguish them.

October in Busan was the annual fireworks festival across Gwangan Bridge. You asked me to go with you. I declined and went with other people. But sandwiched between a million people or so, we were looking up at the same thing. A million people on the goddamn beach - what are the odds of you finding me?

November in Busan was exam time. There had been little time to hang out because you were always cramming and I was always missing and running about in other places trying to soak up as much before I had to leave. “Hey… where are you?” “I’m at XXX. Are you at the library again?” “Yeah. Maybe see you later.” We went to the beach that chilly month and I remember your scarf around my neck a lot that month. I had been very lazy to buy my winter wear. You asked me if I had ever tried eating ice cream in winter before and for the first time in my life, the mix of the cold wind, cold ice cream and cold lips burnt my mouth and subsequently all of my insides as we tried to cling on desperately to the next warmest thing.

December in Busan and the present twists itself into the past like a Möbius strip. Past hellos turn into goodbyes and the goodbyes present themselves as a possibilities of future hellos.

事实是, 时间是线性的。但你怎么解释我们的未来其实就是今日?

Unwrapping the Future on a Saturday Morning.

The other day, you brushed the hair out of my face as I bent over to eat the noodles you cooked. It had been late that Friday night and I was hungry.

“Do you remember how long my hair was when we first knew each other?”
“This exact length.”
“How are you so sure?”
“I am doing the same thing as I did years ago.”
“Then do you remember how long my hair was before I cut it to this?”
“Yes. But only because I never got to touch it.”
“You deserve it.”

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a thorn in the tree

Check in time 3 months later: I sat outside at the balcony of my office building and cried today. Cradled between work mistakes and yesterday's usual rites of passage, I just let go in the morning after two coffees, jittery fingers and a sinking feeling in my stomach. Right between drags and desperate phone calls, I curled up in the chair under the sun and tried to burn my flesh away. There are only two reasons that I cry - of a life that I cannot have or because of my mother. And suddenly I thought, this cannot be. It mustn't and I should stop.

But a thorn in the tree will never let you be free. Except that between us, I don't know who is which. Today I deliberately ripped apart my own wounds everywhere because I was having none of that healed shit. It hurt, felt good but I immediately regretted it because it's 16 and round one all over again.


One of the best jokes you said was when Bishop Solomon was at L.'s birthday party and you whispered "Do you think he only moves diagonally?" I looked at you, confused, and you pointed to the tiled floor. That was really funny.

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