sometimes when you love someone, you desperately long to grow at the same pace as they are, just so no one outgrows the other, and that everything will remain the same even as you’re both moved endlessly through the machinery of life. in the wake of frightening events i sometimes panic and fret that i am not keeping the right pace, that i am losing the real plot in my pursuit of transient things. but then i say a quick prayer and i am, incredibly, back in the warmth of these bubbles that i adore, so perfectly filled with the words and the fragrant hair of my soulmates, with whom i can unabashedly and excitedly be myself. in here there is no room for hesitation, apologies or second thoughts — it is a space that bursts at the seams with a kind of love that is tough and yet so humorous, tinged at the edges with inside jokes and immortal admiration for each other, giving me these silly smiles as i float away.

tonight i am thankful for buddies: old time, late time, and long time. and in just a whisper i will admit that i am thankful even for the sometimes.

but if i tell the world i’ll never say enough, cos it was not said to you…


Spirited Away

has it already been two months? two months since waking up in hong kong and realizing i was going to be late to the party, and after a flurry of champagne flutes, stumbling drunk out of the club onto hollywood road to find myself face to face with a shade of myself, still lingering shyly there from the past. it’s strange but it’s like meeting a pale old friend whom you know you’ve simply missed your chance with. there is this pang, and all you want to do is stay and ask how are you? over and over again in as many ways possible. but while so many things about hong kong remain the same, and palpably so, the city is different to me now. it is bitter, impatient, and almost hostile even as i gingerly try to navigate those old narrow streets and the expanse of dripping air conditioners across which the entire island is strung upon. i’m just a normal person in a strange place now.

i’m leaving hong kong soon after a summer’s worth of work — next week to be exact. i’m looking forward to going back to KL for many reasons, but most of all to be with kafka again. i’ve always very much appreciated having space (perhaps explaining why this is my 6th year in a long distance relationship) but i have just learned how sharply and painfully difficult it is to come home to a dark, dusty and empty apartment alone at night, and knowing that the same thing is going to happen tomorrow, and the day after that, and the day after that. it doesn’t matter how loud or filled with people the preceding hours of the day were, or even if i’m brimming with happiness as i step through the door — it is an acute and exhausting acknowledgment when i brush my teeth and get ready for bed that tonight it’s going to be just me. get ready for bed… such a sad and pathetic phrase. can it be true that i haven’t lived alone before? yes it is. how funny. here i am, always thinking of myself as this independent, strong thing who enjoys competing with her boyfriend (and subsequently winning) at everything… but really, i’d lost the battle the day i agreed to meet him for a second time.

(though true to my perpetually disgruntled competitive spirit against him, i must remind everyone for the billionth time how he was a huge jerk to me when we first met. not to mention he was posing at the street corner with this cup of coffee like he’s some connoisseur when in fact he doesn’t even like coffee…… who ya think ya kidding, boi? unfortunately, me.)




sometimes i wish i were a robot


South of Hollywood

specks of the past do sometimes flit my way, and lodge themselves in my eye. flailing then i can no longer see the world before me, but am forced to look within as i forcefully blink. in these instances i realize how much i’d like to forget you the way you forgot me, but i don’t quite have the heart to, and so i walk around in circles trying hard to extract as many painful but useful lessons from our acquaintance as i can, to justify to myself that there is some good that will come from still keeping you in my mind. it’s a tiresome process and many times i feel like an imbecile in denial, with these useless scraps of information in my hands that i can’t really do much with. i’ve become so ruined and i’m not sure whose fault it is, if it’s mine or yours and if i could ever one day forgive myself for having met you. why’d you find me here?

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Dear Malaysia

this is your prime minister:

this is the same prime minister who was quiet all week long leading up to the Bersih rally, and on the day of the rally was nowhere to be found, on a day that Malaysia needed a leader the most.

this is the same prime minister that 51.5% of us elected to the helm of our country. and this is the best he can do on national television after such an emotional and historical day for Malaysia — mock the injured, mock the opposition, mock those who wore yellow, mock those who marched, mock those who were hit by ‘sikit’ tear gas, and mock those who cared so much for the country that he’s running down to the ground.

please vote wisely in the next elections. register to vote at your nearest post office if you have not already done so. or i will beat you and eat you for breakfast. and i can eat A LOT of breakfast.


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