I Want To Tell You…

The feeling of being loved, of being wanted, knowing that someone out there loves you and craves for your companionship – it’s irreplaceable. The little things that he does for you, when he texts you to make sure your day is going all right. When he tries your baked goods and looks at you with loving eyes and eagerly tells you “it’s amazing!” even though you know it sucks. When you catch him smiling at you when the car stops at the red light. When he memorises your McDonald orders or when he knows your favourite type of tea.

And even though I know deep down that I’m his everything, sometimes I can’t help but think that I’m a little bit invisible to him. Especially when he’s losing himself with his laughter with his friends and accidentally calls me his ex’s name. Or when he goes out of his way to help her. Am I wrong to be saddened a little, knowing how much he still cares for her? I trust him, I really really do. One minute he puts her on the pedestal and the next he’s telling me things she’s done that’s hurt him. And all I want to do is to hold him tight and promise that I’m nothing like her.

Am I being like her? Jealous? Why does it even bother me this much?? I already know that he’s devoted to me. I feel like I always ask too much of him. I feel like every time I’m with him, I drain him – mentally, physically, emotionally.

I want to tell you how much you mean to me. How much you’ve helped me grow. I want to scream to the whole world and tell them that you’re mine. I want to hold your hand and not be afraid if your ex’s friends are around us. I want to show you to my friends. I want to be able to be with you without the fear of your ex finding out about us. I want you to be confident in our relationship – confident enough to tell her. But maybe I’m asking too much, as per usual… 

I want to tell you that yes, I’ll get edgy whenever you mention that you’ll be helping her. I want to tell you that yup, it’s hard to know you’ll be spending a whole day with her alone – even though you hate it too. I want to tell you that it’s hard to hear every time we go out to dinner with your friends and you say “oh, don’t tag jackie in any of the pictures, she’s still invisible … ehm yeah.” I want you to know that I care so much for you, it scares me because it’s opening up myself and being vulnerable. I want to tell you that I’m excited in the adventures in front of us.

Courage is not the absence of fear, but rather the ability to overcome it.



Save Her


A blank screen in front of her, all she wants to do is to convert her thoughts into words. What’s that? Its just her thoughts. It’s trapped in her head like a guilded cage. Just like her.

She’s nothing but an empty shell these days

Punch the wall. Just punch.

There isnt much that she has been doing. No, no, she’s been doing a lot. She’s been lying. She’s been hiding. She’s been crying. She’s naught but a shadow of her former self. Her very essense leaving her in little slips. So slowly that she barely notices it.

Punch. Punch.
It hurts.
Don’t think about anything else, concentrate on the pain.

What’s that? That’s her pile of work. Her procrastination. Her consequence for being so mentally fucked up. What’s that? Can you hear it too? Its her silent screams that radiates from her eyes. It’s the anguish in her heart. It’s the desperation to escape everything. Do you hear it too?

Abort, abort, abort,
delete all thoughts. Punch. Just punch it. Ouch, the skin split. It’s okay. Keep punching.

What’s that? You feel that too? The heaviness in her heart? The panic that rises up her throat? She isn’t getting any better is she? She’s clambering. She doesn’t know what she’s doing anymore.

There’s blood. Punch through it. You deserve the pain.

Mocked and Laughed At

I’m pretty sure many of you who have depression or some other sort of disorders put up a brave front;; a smiling face;; a joking demeanor;; a cheerful smile.

How do you react towards others who joke around about disorders like they’re nothing? Well, they are something. And they’re nothing funny.

Just because a girl didn’t eat her lunch means she’s anorexic. She may be feeling ill and nauseous, therefore having no appetite in food. Just because a boy sits alone in class and lunch time doesn’t mean that he’s depressed. Who knows if he’s merely shy or going through a rough patch? Just because someone eats all the time doesn’t mean he’s bulimic, what if his blood sugar tends to drop very quickly? Just because a girl has bruises doesn’t mean she’s self harming herself. What if she has a rough little toddler sibling or really is clumsy?


I took this picture with my Canon AE-1 camera, in a flower expo in Singapore’s Garden by the Bay. The sunlight streaming through the right side of the photograph illuminating the lavander was what made this picture so captivating for me. The innocence, the peace.

Even if they are not having disorders, doesn’t mean you get to laugh and mock them. You have the power to destroy someone’s life just by making a small comment or a small joke. Having an eating disorder is NOT funny. Having depression is NOT hilarious. Having general anxiety disorder is NOT to be laughed at. Having obsessive compulsive disorder is NOT to be taken lightly at all. Having crying spells is NOT to be joked about.

But be warned: there will always be ignorant people around who will mock and shun those who are suffering. Why? Either because they have suffered and had been mocked on, or merely because they are idiots who deserved to be kicked in the nuts. But you, you are different. Rise above anger, rise above resentment. Show them that you mean business when you don’t joke about disorders. 

Because  they hurt, they kill, and everytime someone makes a joke about it, it takes a part of you away. Little bits of you. If you keep accepting these treatments, you’ll find that soon you’ve got nothing but minute, microscopic pieces of you. Rise, my dears, rise.