Life journal 25

Just for one moment…

When you were preoccupying yourself,

When you just finished a book or a movie that motivated you to keep on going,

When you were working,

When you were not “thinking”,

You thought you were fine.

Telling yourself “you can beat your own monster”

And your nightmare would be gone.

But you would never expect,

All it took was just a little thing, so tiny…

To make you think again…


But your mind would not listen.


But your heart would not stay calm.


And you could not do anything…

To convince your mind that you were worthy,

To see what more you could achieve in the future,

To find a reason to strive,

To at least accept yourself…

That you were not your mental illness.

You knew so well all these things

But it had never been easy

To stop…

_ _ _ _ _

I can’t stop…

[ Cover image belongs to the rightful artist. ]



Life journal 24

Saying “I like my high school.” would be a lie, because I never actually like it.

For so many times, I have said “I hate it.”, and I did mean it. Well, nobody really likes exams, deadlines and such, don’t they?

However, without doubt,

My three years in high school have been the best time that I have ever gotten the change to experience in my life.

Because no matter how I look at it, I would never could find a single class that could be so unique, so talented, so artistic and so darn good at English like my high school classmates.

_ _ _ _ _

We all started as strangers, awkwardly exchanged looks to one another. It didn’t take long until we became friends and began to play mischief that we all laughed at in the end.

As for me, there was a hard time when I tried to fit in, because I was nowhere near being sociable. My most vague memory was of a friend who invited me to go to the cafeteria with her to buy food for the first time, then she commented that I was too shy and cute.

Of course, she found out that she was very wrong later on.

Since I’m an introvert, the feeling of being left out has always occupied me, no matter where I am. Nevertheless, in my high school class, I had never felt that I was a freak. Most of the people who had spoken to me in the class defined me as scary and weird, and they happily accepted that. Never once had I heard them commented about my interests, because they knew about them, and they respected them. It applied to everyone else. Each individual had a different “common sense”, however, they all shared the same thing. It was their differences that made them so unique but at the same time, so alike.

My class’ specialty was English. Everyone in the class had passed an entrance test held by the school before they were placed in here. At first, I didn’t expect much. The test was fairly easy in my opinion, so I assumed that people in this class would have about average English skills, if not less.

Well, I was wrong, and time was the proof for it.

The more time I spent with my classmates, the more they amazed me. A class where everyone was not only surprisingly good in four basic skills of English but also pretty decent with grammatical issues, not to mention their fair vocabularies. I had learnt a lot from them. Being under the same class with them had improved my English greatly. If it was not for them, I don’t think that I could be sitting here and typing all these at this moment, in English, comfortably.

In a small world that you can be yourself without worrying a thing, for me, it was a bless. No matter how many fights, argues, annoyances had occurred during my high school, no matter how serious they might seem, and even though they costed me a friend, it could still not rip away the delight that high school had brought me.

And now here I am, 3 years later, looking at old photos my friends share on facebook, the photos of our last day in high school…

All the goofs that we had made,

All the music that we had played,

All the effort for the senior school camp,

All for just only “one” moment that we spent together, under the starry night…

The moment that made us different people into one big family,

The one that I had the pleasure to be with.

Somewhere around the last days of May,

Goodbye, high school.

[ Cover image belongs to the rightful artist. ]


Life journal 23

If I really think about it, I notice that I have never actually found any satisfied answer.

Why do I write?

May it be to express my feelings ?

For relaxation ?

Or just for fun ?

I used to think that the reason was because I could escape from reality when I wrote, which was also true in some cases.

But I always feel that there is something more…

I only write when inspiration strikes me. That would be either when I’m truly contented or deep in sorrow. The special case being somewhere in the middle of those two feelings, the thin line between sane and depression, but then that’s mostly when I could write at my best. It’s not exactly a good habit to maintain, I suppose. But no matter how much I try, I still cannot do anything about it.

So I just consider it as a candle light for my never-ending nightmare.

Every time I write, it lights up and with its dimming light, casts away the darkness, little by little.

And I think that’s why I write.

To empty my darkness.

And to give it light, even if it’s the thinnest ray…

[ Cover image belongs to the rightful artist. ]




Random 4

People say “When you wish upon a star”

“All your wishes will come true.”

Every day, she prays to the last star of the night

For just one hope that she could see the clear blue sky.

This whole time, it has been so grim…

Even the mighty sun could not crack the cloud.

She misses the light, the warmth and the breeze

Of the sun, the air and the wind.

But one day, they were all gone…

Left her alone in the dark, the cold and the dust.

Time flies, but her hope still lies

Flickering like a dimming candle light.

She afraids that it would die one day.

Or even worse, it would remain as “hope” forever…

Just like the star, fading day by day…

Then that night comes as she looks up on the sky

Her only star is gone, swallowed by the void.

Staring into nothingness, her mind becomes blank

And she falls, with her hope hanging down from life…

“Hello miss, who are you?”

“Where do you from, and why are you here?”

She looks up, only to see a little boy

Wearing white clothes, and a skeleton mask

“I don’t know.” She replied. “I think I fell down…”

“From my hope, and my dreadful sky.”

“Is that so?” The boy tilled his head.

“Is that why your balloon is hanging up side down?”

“My balloon?” She questioned. “But I don’t have any.”

“Yes you do.” Then he pointed behind her.

She turns around, only to see a red thread

Floating in the air, with its end ties up into a balloon shape itself.

“Oh no! It is broken.” The boy exclaimed.

She just sits there, letting the emptiness fill her soul.

“But it’s okay. I can give you mine.”

“So you could get back up to your sky again.”

The boy holds out a red balloon, then gives it to her

She mindlessly looks up, facing the little boy.

He is smilling at her, even through the skeleton mask

And his balloon is filled with warmth light as the sun.

“But don’t you need it?” She asked.

“I’ve already made it through.” He replied.

“I knew that I could, so I tried my best.”

“And now I am fine, healthy and all.”

“No longer need to stay in the place in white anymore.”

She stares at the boy, and then the balloon

Slowly, she extends her hand…

Taking the balloon, she holds it close to her heart…

_ _ _ _ _

Lift yourself up, or hang your hope down

Life is not fair, but give it a chance.

Even when it only offers the tiniest things

Treasure them, as if they are the very last…

Inspired by an artwork from Nano Mortis.

[ Cover imagine belongs to the rightful artist. ]