It hurts like hell, I know.
I am here listening to you, and yet I can’t give you any shoulder to lean on. I can’t hug you and tell you that everything’s gonna be alright.
I don’t know the right words to say. Nor the right things to do. I can’t tell you what to do next, or even suggest things for you to do, because really, they are not going to help. They are just words. What you need right now is much, much more than that.
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You make me so, so happy.
So happy.
Even when you woke me up from my power nap as I was sitting in the MRT because you saw an elderly who required a seat. Yes, you didn’t exactly make me happy back then – my feet were crying in agony as it had been a long day. But all in all, I am happy. I have a boyfriend who genuinely cares about others.
For three weeks, there wasn’t a single time when you didn’t send me home, despite the fact that I live one and a half hour away from your place. You make total sure that I am back home safe and sound before you head to your long journey home.
And I am so, so happy.
Read more →I did make a conscious decision, a long time ago, to choose time over money... I suppose it’s possible I’ll lie on my deathbed regretting that I didn’t work harder and say everything I had to say, but I think what I’ll really wish is that I could have one more beer with Chris, another long talk with Megan, one last good hard laugh with Boyd. Life is too short to be busy.
Tim Kreider
Dear Present,
I wish you could talk to your siblings Past and Future and tell me exactly what’s going on and what will be going on later in life. I wish you have that ability.
Everytime I ask you a question, you just smile empathically while throwing back all the choices to me. I can’t read your face. The only thing I know is you repeatedly assuring me that it’s not your place to decide. I will have to pick my own battles and key in my own hours. There’s no shortcut.
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If I have to choose between picking up a phone and sending an email, I will definitely send an email.
It’s less invasive, and more detailed. Of course, things can get lost in translation and you can totally misunderstand what the other party means (for this, face to face interaction is still the best). But you don’t need to spell your name (especially if you’re an asian living in a western country). You don’t need to come up with an answer on the spot. You don’t need to decide things quickly.
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Facebook is telling me that he has an awesome job at such a young age, she has the dream job, they are successful like crazy and making tons of money. Instagram is telling me that everyone’s photography skills are much, much better than mine, and that everyone is living such better lives. Coffee. Good book. Beach. Traveling. Photos from overseas. Catching up with friends. Getting a scholarship. Getting an award. Getting published. Having the cutest dog in the world. Having the ‘awwwwww’est cat in the world.
And my profile? They look so bleak. So ordinary. In spite of my determination to live ordinary lives, it’s kind of hard when it seems that everyone is living an extraordinary one.
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When you write on paper, you don’t write to get published. When you write on the keyboard, most often, you do.
Perhaps I’m still a little bit old school. Even after the ownership of Mac, iPhone, and iPad, I still regularly consult my journal for pen and paper activities. Few things can beat the feeling of writing in one’s journal. There’s a sense of happiness, and perhaps wholeness to the experience.
Read more →To see the world, things dangerous to come to, to see behind walls, draw closer, to find each other, and to feel. That is the purpose of life.
The Secret Life of Walter Mitty
You made a mistake? Good. Move on.
Because if you don’t, that one mistake will eat you alive, possibly wrecking every single thing that will come your way.
So you slipped. You made a mistake and perhaps even a grave one. You did the unspeakable. You acknowledged it. You accepted it. You sought forgiveness.
But it’s just not enough, isn’t it? Some nights you’re lying on bed and all you can think of is how hypocritical you are – pretending to be a good person and all. After all, that mistake is still recorded there on your life history. It’s still going to be there, despite all those time spent trying to pay for it. Ignoring it is ignorance, right?
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You have a long list of things you’ve done but never been proud of, and in the end the best thing you can do is just to accept them, and move on. Unpacking those baggage might also be seriously time consuming and you prefer to avoid it at all cost, shuddering at even the slightest chance of emotional disorder.
There are regrets in those baggage. Lots of pain and wrong turns and heartaches too. You wish you never made the choice but at that time, your eighteen-year-old self naively thought that it was a good idea, so you went on.
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