How to be brave.

Whenever my mum kisses me goodbye before going off in the morning, I want to tell her to take her with me. I will leave behind my life here in city and go home.

I will go back to hot dinner with my family every day. Back to my childhood best friend calling me to hang out at a place that I have went to for the last 24 years of my life. I will go back to a place where I know that the traffic light at the crossroad will take about 30 seconds before it's my turn to turn left or right. I will go back to the sea side that I grew up watching plane landings and horse races at, back to excruciatingly slow drivers on the right lane and all the lanes and food that is the epitome of home.

But I don't.

Instead, I tell her goodbye, closed my eyes and went back to sleep.

25 things I learn/am reminded of in March of 2017

1. March is not a good month for me.
2. A black hole in your chest can still hurt even though it's empty.
3. Love doesn't mean the same thing to everyone.
4. The people you love will hurt you, especially when you don't expect them to.
5. The people that love us the most in the world, are the hardest for us to hear.
6. The lucky ones are the ones who are loved exactly the way they wanted.
7. I am allowed to still love you with so much and still walk away.
8. Under no circumstance should you ever lose your temper with the ones who love you.
9. Words of comfort from the ones who love you are never intended to harm you.
10. Always run to those who love you.
11. Your circumstances in life are not an excuse for your behavior.
12. Wisdom does not come with age.
13. Understanding comes with a level of respect.
14. It's okay to leave when people push you away.
15. Under no circumstance should you ever say something because it will help you in that moment and only in that moment.
16. Feeling hurt when paired together with acceptance of loss brings a comfortable amount of peace.
17. You are allowed to blame yourself for things. Just don't believe it.
18. Always communicate what you want and what you need from someone. Do that even when they are not listening, at least you can say you did your part.
19.The words "best friends" are cursed for me.
20. Life is too short for being "too little".
21. Love even when love has let you down because it is the people that you love that disappoints you, not love.
22. There is strength in continuing to love even when you are broken and gasping.
23. Not everyone wants your love, it's okay, you can give it to someone else who wants it.
24. It is okay to mourn for people who left. They were important.
25. Always fight for what and who you love. Don't let your regrets be losing them because you were too scared to fight. Fight.

10 things I found to be true after 23 years of living.

1. God is good.

2. Too much cheese will give you gas.

3, When you are in that "headspace", every hello will sound like a different version of "I'm sorry" and goodbye's, they'll sound like "Take care, I love you so much".

4. Sometimes "I love you" isn't enough. "I love you" does not make acceptance rain down from heaven. I learn that "I love you" na matter how many times it is said, it does not make people stay.

5. Heartbreaks are shit. Even after a million times. They will still feel like drowning, in a storm with crashing waves that keep you underwater. They will leave you cold, crying and broken. I learn that it hurts even more when you begged them to stay.

6.   There is always something calming about sipping drinks with straws. I like holding my drink with both hands. It makes me feel content.

7. You are loved even if you don't believe it. People will give you their jackets. They will call. They let you stay with them because you couldn't do anything else but stay in bed. They will knock on your door and let themselves in because they know you won't get the door. You are loved. You just need to choose to see that they are there because people cannot save you if you keep jumping into the hole that you got pull out of.

8. Pain is gift to writers. With pain, comes the romanticization of heartbreak and letting go. Pain will be given a face, a personality. Sometimes pain will feel sorry that he or she is visiting. In some stories, pain is a long lost friend, accompanied by anxiety and depression. Writers often paint pain in black and white and call it "colorful". I picture pain as red. I guess it's supposed to mean "Stop", "Danger", "Run" but guess who ran head first and got the wind knocked out of her? Me

9. It does make a difference when someone loves you. Someone wise once said, "Being loved is not the same thing as loving." When you are loved, you become a manifestation of calm waters and late nights. Being loved releases you from the cage that you build around yourself. Being loved reminds you that love is a real thing even if you cannot see it.

10. When I was 21, I wrote about not understanding the concept of happiness and love. I also wrote that I don't like birthdays. I am 23 this year. I have had a brief meeting with happiness and love. I like birthdays now. Two years, so much has changed and happened. Despite all the changes, God is still good.

Stars, parks and possibilities.

I want to watch the stars with you. I want to lie on top of a cheap blanket, in a park with you. We can complain about the amount of bugs that will be feasting on our very limited but tasty blood. We can also get annoyed at the possibly wet and prickly grass underneath the cheap blanket. Then, I know we'd probably agree unanimously that we'll never do that again.

However, in spite of how much we suffered, I think we'll keep going back to that spot to look at stars. We'll be smart. This time, the blankets will be around us. We'll probably be on a bench, with a blanket to keep us warm and protected, under a blanket of stars, The funny thing is that I'll probably be the one to plan this and it'll either be adorably romantic or horribly miscalculated.

Either way, I'll still want to watch the stars with you. If you'd let me, we could forget the stars for while.

To be wrong

I want to write about how you made the anxiety in my bones still. I want to write about the way the side of your eyes crinkle when you give me a mischievous smile. I want to climb on to the tallest mountains, just to scream "I love you" in to the clouds. I want to tell the world that loving someone can change so much of what you were so sure about.

Before I met you, I was so sure that the most annoying accent in the world is the mandarin accent when English is spoken. With that accent, came the complimentary broken English. I was so sure that I didn't like it. Of course, like I said, it was before I met you. Now your voice is my comfort. Your words became the Big Dipper that guides my way home when I get lost. I was so sure and then, I was wrong. And boy, I have never been this happy to be wrong.

I love you.

Those three words are said too much,
they're not enough.
They became merely words,
with no promises, no hope, empty.

Then,
there was you.
I'd regret it if I didn't tell you that enough.

Stuck Pt 1.

Have you ever been stuck?

Stuck? A couple of times. 

In potholes. 

In my car. 

Outside my house. 

Yeah, plenty.

So, to you,

being stuck is being physically restrained,

confined in a space that you can't get out of?

Being stopped from going where you are meant to be heading?

Well, that's one definition of being stuck.

What about you?

What is your experience of being stuck?

I have times where I try to stop thinking about something,

somehow it looped itself in my head 

and it ends up being the only thing I think about.

Then, there were days where I would drive aimlessly around the city.

Somehow, I would end up in odd places that still has fragments of what used to be.

Sometimes I would convince myself that I was okay.

I'll explore new places, new adventures, a whole different routine.

Sometimes it doesn't matter how hard I try because

it only takes something simple like the way someone's thumb looks like,

a phrase that was used,

It only takes very little for me to feel like 

I was back to the place that I try very hard to leave.

I think it's good that you try.

It means you stand a chance of getting out.

Getting out of anywhere is a hard thing to do.

So, I think it matters that you try very hard.

You know what is the worst part?

Being stuck feels infinite.

It's like you are blindfolded

and you are shortsighted.

All you can see are glimpses of what's in front of you

through the thin fabric of the blindfold.

And with your shortsightedness,

you are unable to even see what is before you,

let alone anything else beyond that.

And because of that, 

you're unable to get out

or get to anywhere else for that matter.

Breaking my own promise.

I promised myself that I wouldn't talk about her anymore, that I would stop dedicating words to her,  words she will never read. Then, it became evident to me that there were imprints of her everywhere. I see it in my stories, my poems, my conversations and even in my reaction towards a new friend. I swore to never talk about her again but she's everywhere.

When I see the word best friend anywhere, my mind still goes to her even though she no longer holds the title. The feeling of this is like a recovering alcoholic seeing a sign pointing to a bar. Their first instinct tells them to go in and order a drink. Then, their senses come to them and they have to consciously convince themselves to walk away because going in will not help them in any way.

Time and time again, my mind will unconsciously remember the good times that we had, which triggered a lot of the bad memories. I would usually stop myself from going down to memory lane but sometimes, I would allow myself a short stroll and everytime without fail, I will end up missing her.

We don't talk anymore. It's horrible because now, even our small talk is awkward. We couldn't get two sentences out with that gaping feeling between us. And every time she talks to me, I wonder if she misses me. I never understood how people can just go around pretending like they never once knew everything about this person. I never understood how they manage to put away all these memories and information like it never mattered. 

There was a quote that I saw on tumblr, I don't remember it exactly but it goes along those lines, "He always photographed the thing that he loved but he never took a photo of me". I was in a lot of her photos before. Back then, I will always be somewhere in the picture. Now, you can't even tell that we're friends. I was happy then. Spending time with her was nice, I could talk to her about anything and she always made me laugh. She kept me calm, she kept me sane. She was my own sun. Was. Now, I can't remember what her laugh sounds like. 

I would like to think that she was using me because believing that is less painful than to believe that I just wasn't relevant anymore. However, as much as I don't want to believe it, I know that at some point, I did mean something to her and she really did loved me. My judgement about people hasn't failed me yet. So, up until some point, she really was my friend. My only mistake was to believe that that will never change. 

I stop telling people the details of our friendship. It used to be long, detailed paragraphs of stories. Now I replace those stories with "We don't talk anymore" and "I don't know, she never responded and I gave up eventually". I stop telling the stories because relieving the memories bring me pain. I no longer see the reason to put myself through it anymore.  I'd like to think that she doesn't care because it will help me move on from this. However, I saw a quote that says this, "There are two reasons why people don't talk about things, either it doesn't mean anything to them or it means everything". I don't know which one is she.

I think, among all the friends that I've made over the years, I will always love her the most. I mean, how can I still, after everything? But I do, I still do.

Love letters.

I'm sorry I can't write you a love letter.
No, I don't mean "those" letters.
You know, the ones that involve words like,
You and I, forever, house, children, mortgages,
and occasionally, your parents suck.
Love letters, the type I meant were
the ones where you tell them about a place that you went to
because they love the color red.
Then, you'd tell them about the person that you met recently
and how this person's laugh is similar to theirs.
Letters where profanities and insults were the language of endearment,
and I think, it will probably end with,
"Dude, text me. Why are you writing?"
Letters like these are never long,
sometimes they are a beautifully sculpted essay, using words such as,
flamboyant, combust, dynamic, serendipity.
Sometimes they are a random string of words, like
pizza, hippopotamus, Herbie, smelly, you.
Another thing about these letters is that
it made sense either way because it was written to you,
only you,
with love.

I can't write love letters anymore.
The last person I wrote to stopped talking to me,
and now, I am writing this to you
after deleting 290 photos of me and her at 3 in the morning.
I am not a person who is good with speech, or affection
or love, or relationships.
The only thing that allows me to properly explain the things that I feel
is a pen and paper.
Therefore, love letters, they are a manifestation of everything that I am afraid to say and
even everything that I refuse to say.
When I write to you,
no other thoughts but you will occupy my mind.
You will be my sole muse, my inspiration until the very last word
which is where I sign "Love, Tryphena"
I would use words to paint you like a picture, in hopes that
you would understand how I see you as a human being.
I have a knack for seeing things about people that are not noticed by many,
I'll tell you how you always keep your arms close to your body,
like somehow, you are trying to make yourself smaller or to preserve body heat.
I'll tell you how you always smile differently in pictures, especially the ones taken with me.
I'll tell you that people love you and you shouldn't be with someone who doesn't.
I'll tell you how you always change the topic to something else when it's a question that you didn't want to answer.
Then, to make things worse,
I'll tell you how different I am when I am with you.
I'll give you examples, references, citations, everything to show
how your existence is so important to me.
I'll tell you that you're the last thing on my mind when I go to sleep.
I'll tell you that I am comfortable with you, even when we're both in decade-old PJs.
I'll tell you that I check your "last seen" on whatsapp when I couldn't sleep.
I'll tell you that I never stopped loving you.

If I write you a love letter,
I am giving you my heart, my self-esteem, my self-worth on a silver platter.
If I write you a love letter,
you are given the ability to crush me into a million pieces in the time span that ranges from one millisecond,
to three years,
or more, your choice.
If I write you a love letter,
I am exposing myself to you in a way
that I later will suffer maximum damage from
if you ever plan on killing me.
If I write you a love letter,
I won't be able to take any of it back if you chose to leave,
and I will be left here with all the words that I ever wrote to you,
stuck in the back of my throat.

In spite of this,
if I write you a love letter,
you should know that I must really really love you.

Leaving behind.

I can't help myself from looking out of the window. They say, in order to move forward with your life, you cannot look back. Then again, what happens when you are not leaving but leaving behind?

I am sitting here in the plane, waiting for the passengers to finish boarding. I reckon most of them are either going back from a sadly short vacation or going home. Most of them wear a hijab and are alone so I'm assuming they are all students and are going back for their holidays.

Taking off is slow as usual. It is as if it's giving me a chance to jump off the plane and yell "I'm not leaving!". The temptation to do so gets stronger as the plane starts to get on the take off lane.

"We're ready for take off," says the captain and my brain switches to full panic mode. "Wait, I'm staying" Obviously I was too late and all I can do is just sit here helplessly as the plane flies off full speed in to the air.

My eyes desperately tries to take in every familiar building that swishes by; My brain tries to recall where every single building is and their purposes. Secretly, I was searching frantically for my house, in hopes of catching a last glimpse of it, even though I know damn well that it's on the other side of the city.

As the plane disappears off into the clouds, sadly with me in it, I was forced to stay in my seat and just accept the fact that I am flying off. So, what happens when you're not leaving but leaving behind? They don't tell you anything about it but I'll tell you now that it's not bad to look back. After all, all your stories, your dreams, your beginning started there. It's only fair that you never ever forget that.

First blog post as a 21 year old.

I have not written in a long time, I have good reasons for it. Well, at least I think it's good. I don't know why I am explaining since I am talking to myself here.

I was home for the holidays, still am though. I have been doing practically nothing productive because there is nothing productive of my own to be done. House work and chores are different things. I'd just procrastinate until literally 20 minutes before my mum comes home and just finish it really really quickly. It looks something like Hit Girl in the movie Kick Ass 2, after she was given the adrenaline shot.

Things have been okay, I guess. At least that's what I would say to a stranger because I don't know how to explain what I have been feeling lately. Plus, people don't ask how are you to get an answer. It's small talk, they just want an "okay" and next question. Given all the time that I spend alone in KL, I have a tendency to keep things to myself now, or to my blog. I don't think it's a bad thing. I just became more private and you will only see what I show you.

I have been 21 for about a week now. I didn't expect anything like what happened with Harry Potter when he turned 11, to happen. It was nice to not feel the difference but then again, you do feel the urgency to become more responsible, more productive, more successful and so on because I am legally an adult now. With that being said, I also understand that with me being older, it means my parents are aging too, which further stressed my responsibility as the eldest in the family, to be more of an adult.

At 21, people would have expected you to be... not lost. Unfortunately, here I am, feeling as lost as I was 3 years ago, the only difference is that I was on my own. I had a best friend 3 years ago. She's gone now and I am alone. Again, it's not bad, I haven learnt to be content on my own now but it'd be nice to have someone, yknow.

However, I would like to look at the bright side of not knowing what to do with myself:

1. I am studying in a course that I really really like, which means I am most likely to go into that in the future.
2. I still see the importance of writing in my life and I am lucky because I still have something that I love that is mine.
3. I have the possibilities of everything lying ahead of me BECAUSE I don't have a plan.
4. I know what to look for slowly from my own experiences and even so, I can just change things if I don't like them.
5. I get to be selfish first.
6. I can try anything that I want and not regret it.

That's enough of me talking about me to me. I am surprisingly enjoying this. It beats talking to people because I am not a judgmental person and it sucks when people are. They say, you are your own best friend, yeah, in a lot of ways, it's true :)

Things that I found to be true after 21 years of living.

1. Eating good food everyday is not exactly a blessing, indigestion follows closely after that.
2. It should make a difference when someone loves you.
3. Good teachers may not necessarily be good people.
4. Apologizing always eases the tension after a fight.
5. You will always remember the people that you used to love. You will remember every detail of how you come to stop loving them. It will still hurt you, even if you're over it.
6. You will have dreams of killing people that pissed you off in real life, it's okay.
7. It's also okay to want a goat, an alpaca and a flying carpet.
8.You may stray a little growing up but you will go back to doing what you love. For me, it's writing and reading.
9. Growing up is shit. And very painful.
10. You will really REALLY love a person. They will eventually screw you over because that's what people do.
11. Being friends with yourself is nice, you don't really go wrong there.
12. Don't fall in love because everyone else had someone. You don't need anyone, you can survive very well on your own.
13. Make new friends, they can change and probably save your life.
14. Invest in a hobby, You're doing it for you, there's nothing wrong with that.
15. It's okay to want to punch people in the face but it's not okay if you actually do it. I'm sure you're not sorry after doing it.
16. It's okay to want to make people hurt just like how they hurt you. It will help you grieve.
17. It's okay to kiss guys and girls, as long as they don't belong to someone.
18. Writing is good for the soul, well, your soul. I don't know about other people.
19. It's okay to not love someone who loves you. If it's not there, it's not your fault.
21. It's okay to not follow the order of numbers because it's my blog, fuck you.
22. Everyone has their own stories of happiness and loss. Listen because they help you understand life more.
23. You can do so much more than you want to give yourself credit for. Don't be fucking modest, they get you nowhere.
24. You will want to change for someone, you will not want to listen to anyone who tells you otherwise. It's cool, you'll come back.
25. There will be days where you want to stay in bed, then stay in bed, play Sims 3 and starve.
26. Swearing is not okay or polite but you will start swearing because everyone is swearing. You will continue swearing because you won't know how to fucking stop swearing.
27. Sadness will always be a comfort zone and you will not be able to understand it but you will get out of it, slowly.
28. There will be days where you would want someone to love you but it's still cool if you don't feel like that two hours after.
29. Loving a guy is cool, loving a girl is cool too. You're able to love, unlike Voldermort.
20. The best "day" of your life will be a collection of moments that you don't want to forget: The way someone looks at you. The way that someone smiled at you. That day when you laughed so hard that you thought you beat depression. The day where you are happy to be alive.
30. Birthdays aren't all that special. It's just how you see the birth of yourself. YOU. Not anyone else, so congratulate yourself for making it this far. I would know, my birthday was just yesterday.

Day 11 of 30 challenge: Are you a lover or a fighter?

I am both actually.

When I love, goddammit, I love.
I'd tell you that you look beautiful, perfect,
even with all your flaws that hung off your walls of insecurity.
I'd sing you songs that remind me of you.
I'd play you the songs that my heart beats to when I see you.
I'd say that you are a story waiting to be told, 
these scars that you bear from falling down and wrong side of beds.
Holy shit, that smile, I blew it the moment you look my way.
You are the plot twist in the stories, you captivate people,
you are the climax, the one that everyone has been waiting for.
I'd write you songs, poems,
but then, I'd stop because
no combination of 26 alphabets could ever describe
what I feel for you.
And those eyes, they echo centuries and centuries of wisdom and insight,
I could stare at them for so long without feeling lost.
I'd have to set myself on fire. 
Engulfed in flames,
that would be something that is only seemingly accurate 
to this overflowing love that I feel for you.
I'd scream to the whole world that I love you.
Oh my god, I love you.
I wouldn't be able to understand it completely,
I wouldn't be able to understand how is it possible for someone to feel
so much, so much about someone,
and not explode.
Goddammit, I love you, 
I love you so much.

A fighter, yeah, I am that too.

I'd beg you not to leave, I'd throw out every reason that I can make up to apologize.
I'd beg, on my knees, snot and tears, to fix things
I'd compromise, give whatever that I have.
I'd figure a way to make things work.
I'd refuse to take no for an answer.
I'd make it work, 
I'd make us work.
Fucking hell, 
I would do anything for you.

On being alone

It's weird though. It's like no matter how hard I try, I never seem to fit in or belong anywhere. Take today as an example, it was sports' carnival and of course, you go on the bus and do everything as a group and without fail, I always seem to be the odd one that has to sit with a stranger. It's not like I mind, it's just it's be nice, you know, to sit with a friend.

And come to think of it, I have always traveled alone. Whether be it on the train, bus or on the plane to fly back home, I was always alone. You'd think that I have gotten used to it by now, yeah, you're right but it's just, you know, having a friend might be nice for a change.

I learn to keep myself busy since I am on my own so much. When I'm on the bus, I try to look outside the window if I am near one. I'd wonder where all these people are rushing to. I'd wonder who their families are and when was the last time they called each other. If I'm nowhere near a window, I'd do the same thing with the passengers on the bus. I'd wonder if they have gotten mad at someone today or if they expect anything good to come up from the day. I would make up stories in my head about them but too bad, I never wrote them down.

I'd occasionally make a friend. For example, today, the guy sitting next to me is called Barack, from Africa and he is doing a Law degree. He will be transferring to the UK by the end of this year. It's surprisingly how much you learn about a person. I learn that he plays futsal and he wants to explore Kuala Lumpur. He's very nice and I don't feel so lonely after that.

I guess since I am alone for so long now, I don't think I know how to react when people really seem to enjoy my company. To me, they might just be too polite to tell me to shut up. I was hanging out with my sort of new friends Sharon and Hana. They told me stories about other people and about themselves and I was sort of stunned because I don't think I knew how to react to it. They were so eager to let me know about their jokes and funny moments and I have never felt like this in a while: that sense of belonging. I like them, they are nice people.

I hope they stay as my friends because so many people left. I mean it's okay if they don't. I wouldn't be mad and I wouldn't make them stay but it'd be nice if they did because they are very sincere and I really really enjoyed their company.

I think I'm just a little sad today. I'm not sure if this is an update or a rant so i think it's both.

Oh well. Till next time.

Never home.

I didn't know what was wrong actually,
like, I was fine but I was sad?
I spend the whole afternoon, busying myself,
trying to avoid something, feeling something.
Then again, the whole afternoon was spent on "damn feels" short films.
I didn't know what was going on
or rather, I didn't want to know what was going on.

That was until no one was free to hang out with me,
then I realize that I felt lonely.
The people I asked to hang out weren't free,
so, I just sat in my room, trying to find something to do.
The urge to edit family photos that were long overdue were strong,
so that's what I did.

Being lonely has never felt this painful in a long time.
What struck a nerve was a picture of my little brother.
I didn't realize how much I missed him because I told myself that I don't.
Scrolling through all of the photos is really not a good idea,
I end up breaking down and yeah, crying.
I've always wanted to go home,
I just didn't realize that until now.

I still say, "I'm going back," whenever I say goodbye to my friends.
Never the word "home".
I only used it when I was flying back, to home.
I guess, I was never home after all,
I was only back in my room
but never home.

Every goddamn time.

I see you in the busy streets outside my window,
I imagine what you look like, stuck in traffic.
It's pretty silly though, trying to imagine you in traffic,
you reading in the corner of a coffee shop, you playing catch with your dog,
you doing something, like being next to me.
I see you when I take a sip from my coffee mug,
I can't remember if you liked coffee or not
but I imagined myself bringing you a cup of whatever in bed
or maybe, I'll leave it on the table, still steaming hot, with a note,
"Hope it's not cold when you wake up. I love you."
It's funny how our thoughts can bring us to places,
the travels beyond our imagination,
or perhaps, another dimension where everything is different,
where you and I were together.

I see you when I cross the road to get to class.
You'd be tugging at my hand, signalling me to walk faster
as the traffic lights just turned green.
I see you when the cheesiest, corniest love songs play on my music library.
Those lyrics insisted that "we were meant to be", "you are my everything",
it sounds so stupid, considering that I have never meet you.
Yet, here we are, hopelessly waiting for the impossible, for a miracle.
It bothers me that I am so painfully sure of you, that you are so sure of me too,
like we have a future but we may not?
The dark clouds are sure signs of rain.
I see you when the rain falls because I have never doubted you,
the same way I never doubted the dark clouds.

I see you in the parks, playgrounds, by the beach,
All the places that we may go one day.
I see you in the books I read, the movies I watch,
I see you whenever a character says "I love you".
I see you when skies turn grey, when people run to hide from the rain.
I see you at the airport, bus stops, train stops,
I see you when the traffic light turned green
and me using everything that I have in me to make it across the road.
'Cause that's how I'd run to you when I see you,
in any dimension, any parallel universe,
every goddamn time.

Day 4 of 30 challenge: What is true love?

True love. It is very subjective for everyone. This is my version.

True, to me, is genuine and real. Love, well, it's complicated but yeah..

Love is when you know that they will mess up and you will be mad but you will get over it. It is knowing what they like to eat and knowing what they look like when they eat. It is telling them to pick their clothes off the floor over and over again, knowing that they won’t and you still do it everyday. It is being able to shout their name from the living room to the bedroom to get something for you. It is texting “I am home” when you get home at 2am. It is not wanting someone to go through something horrible alone. It is never wanting anything to hurt someone even though you know it is not the reality but still wishing for it. It is being mad at someone but not mad enough to want them to go away forever. It is wanting to show them off to the world even though they are only valuable to you. It is kissing them when they are sick. It is trying your best to make a personal present everytime it’s their birthday. It is insulting each other but never taking to heart. It is when you know you’re coming back after a goodbye.

Love is pictures on the wall and late night poems, your last 8 bucks spent on a ride to go to them. It is waiting at transits while the other prays that the plane is not hijacked. Love is staying at the door to wave goodbye and running in full speed with the doorbell rings. It is shouting at 1am because of mortgages and still waking up next to the other the next morning. Love is staying even though all you want to do is run. It is raised voices and hushed but sincere apologies. Love is making someone climb mountains so that you can show them what you find magical. It is laughing at them when they fall down while helping them up. Love is everything that the other sees about you and tries to tell you how fascinating you are. It is them loving all the parts that you hate about yourself and them kissing the scars that you left.

FINISHED - Challenge Day 8: Write: a love poem … for a non traditional item or person

This is a poem for my bed.

I have spent most nights, most afternoons and all morning
huddled in a mountain of pillows and blankets.
Sometimes I hide under the blankets, pretending to be a hiker,
hiding from the cold on Mount Everest.
Sometimes I pretend I'm in a small cave while under this fluffy fort that I made,
hiding from the rest of the world, half convinced that
if I never left, I will be fine.

My three pillows became my fortress from the dark,
my blanket became my invisibility cloak that shield me from reality.
Wobbly, a birthday present when I was 10,
was my loyal friend.
He, yes, it's a he, he loved me
even when I was all snot and tears.
My bed is a place where I made sense of things,
where I pour our my feelings, staining the whole room with it's darkness.
It is where therapy is sleeping and waking up is another chance to change things.
My bed is where I laughed at the most ridiculous jokes,
and come up with most of my paradoxes.

Home was far away, it was out there and out of reach,
I was sad, it wasn't easy being so far away.
Pillows, that have collected most of my tears and dreams during sleepless nights,
became a place where I rest my head when I give in to my thoughts.
Blankets that have so often imitated the arms of a protective lover,
mastered the art of being there and never letting go.
In my loneliness, they have given me comfort and peace
when there were nothing but storms in my head.
Wobbly, in these silent moments, has given me strength
and hope when all seemed lost.
My bed is the island where I sought help, where solitude was happiness
silence became another genre of music as my bed slowly became home.

Every time when I am exhausted, wounded or overjoyed,
I come back to this nest that I build, in which
I have slowly start to accept, as home.

Challenge Day 5: Make a List of things you should have learned by now

1. Giving people the benefit of the doubt is not always the right thing to do. Instincts don't lie.
2. Orange is a very weird color and is not my color.
3. Just because Spaghetti Cabonara is nice, does not mean that I should eat that EVERY SINGLE TIME I go to that shop.
4. You will regret the second plate of chicken rice.
5. Just because you can fit it in to your palm does not mean that you can finish it.
6. You will SOMEHOW over turn your water bottle if it's in your bag.
7. It is okay if you don't have a boyfriend. Or a girlfriend. I have no objections.
8. No matter how indescribable things seem to be, you will always find a way to describe it if you pick up a pen.
9. Reading keeps you busy.
10. Learn to slow down and breathe, it's not that hard to say that life is okay when you are taking it minute by minute,
11. Trust your gut feeling. There's a reason why it's there.
12. Glee is therapy.
13. Muay Thai - the rush or blocking, hitting, kicking - is my ecstasy.
14. You may sound good when you're playing air drums on your table with your two index fingers but it's different on the drums.
15. You will always mess up when you try to play something for someone on the guitar.
16. You will never regret doing your laundry early.
17. Loving someone does not mean that you should give up every part of yourself.
18.Writing will always help you, no matter what.
19. You will never sing like Celine Dion or Beyonce.
20.  Vegetables are nice. Except beans. Beans are horrible.

Day 1 of 30 challenge: What do you regret the most?

This will be something personal to me and I will skim through it.

I regret cutting. I regret starting. I just regret it. If I could go back, I would tell my 14 year old self that everything will be okay and I turned out awesome. Then again, I survived so long because of cutting. I am not sure how I will turn out.. I regret it but I don't think I would change it if I could. It has become a huge part of my past and it shaped me into who I am today and I am pretty proud of how I turned out.

Regretting and wanting to change it is different. I guess, I made peace with this mistake that I have completely accepted it.

No, I wouldn't change it. I don't know who or where I am without these scars etched on my body.