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Tidal wave.

Image source: Google.

I guess it’s true.

But sometimes, just sometimes, you fervently wish that it’s smooth sailing. Nobody ever said it was easy, but the adrenaline rush you get before you take that final leap  gives you the thrill and excitement, making you look forward to it. Once you got in, it’s jumping through trapdoors made of steel that immediately shuts behind you, you can’t even look back. It leaves you with no choice but to keep pushing forward, no matter how tempting it is to turn around.

One moment, you feel like you’ve got everything together, you’re floating. The next, you sink and drown, and there is no way to stop it.

It makes you miss yourself. Not because you’ve changed into someone you fail to recognise. But you somehow got so detached with yourself, you forgot how it feels like to actually be yourself.

You realise no one could keep you on the surface as you sink and sink, no matter how willing they are to draw you close. Because you know you cannot rely on anyone, but yourself. People leaves, eventually.

And they have their own waves to deal with. 

 

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Stumbled upon

I vaguely remember there used to be a social site called stumbled upon, yes? It was a long time ago. Back when MSN messenger was still a thing. But that is not the point. It’s not the site that I stumbled upon. It was my old Tumblr account that I stumbled upon.

An email from Tumblr came through just when I was studying for my last finals; 4 years anniversary of Tracing Memories. It was four years ago that I set up a Tumblr account. I don’t exactly remember why I stopped going on Tumblr, like so many other things that went away in my life, it just happened. Well, life happened. Frankly, I was shocked to find XiaXue’s (A famous Singaporean blogger, apparently) post flooded my feed when I finally managed to recall my Tumblr password.

I spent another 20 minutes navigating around trying to view my own blog page. The next 15 minutes or so scrolling through histories. It just so happened that I once linked my Instagram to Tumblr, so there were some earlier Instagram photos on my Tumblr. Then again, it is not the point because when I scrolled pass the Instagram era, I stumbled into my past. A small, forgotten piece. There was a split second when I stopped scrolling, I didn’t dare to continue scrolling. It wasn’t about how stupid I used to be, nor how naive. It was some reblogged posts that reminded me of what I once felt.

An answer to a question that has been haunting me.

I guess my friend was right. It doesn’t matter anymore. What matter was that at the point of decision making, I chose myself. This, by default, rendered what had been and what could have been meaningless.

Nevertheless, I thank Tumblr for that email that had transported me back to my past.

I have loved you, once upon a time.

We are two lines forming a sphere. Although we don’t meet often, but we will always get back to each other. And you are all that I have and I’m all that you’ve got.

Scribbled,

Mich

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For one more day.

All you hear is raindrops
Trickling down the white canopy
Footsteps coming close, passes by
As hands finding their ways
Patting your drained, fragile frame
They wouldn’t know and it doesn’t matter
One by one, as concerned eyes leave
Life goes on all the same
But what else remains the same?
When the only thing you wish is..
For one more day.
They wouldn’t know and it doesn’t matter
One day you’d learn to shed tears of sorrow
And you’ll know it’s fine to feel something
But what else remains to be felt?
When the one and only thing you want is..
For one more day.
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Move on.

Someone asked: How do you know if you have moved on?

I thought for awhile and settled with a satisfying answer: When not thinking about it requires no effort.

Yes. That must be it.

When not thinking about it becomes something that requires no conscious effort, that’s when you’ve moved on.

Frozen pane

 

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Only me.

it’s raining outside
slow, rhythmic drops on the roof
unceremoniously blending in
along with the whispers of pen against paper
as thoughts swirl and twirl, weaving words
time slows down, creeping pass quietly
i put my pen away
keeping the little book away
curl up into a small being
listening as the rain pours
time slows down, creeping pass quietly
i stood up and walk to the window
stars lit up the dark sky
and the earth smell of fresh dry leaves
it’s only me.
Aside

I just want to…

Photo credit: The Tutu Project

Photo credit: The Tutu Project

put my arms around you and hug you tight.

As tight as I could, with all the energies that flow through my tiny self.

wrap both of my hands around yours and squeeze it tight.

As tight as both my hands could that it actually hurts your hand.

to simply just be there for you.

Words, which have always been my favourite way of expressing my thoughts and my feelings, they became so weak when it comes to you.

Meaningless, even.

And I, helplessly bugging without helping.

Those times when there’s always a voice there to refrain these thoughts. Thoughts that were overruled by worries.

If I overruled those, it wouldn’t be things that I just want to.

It was never a matter of who deserves what. It has always been what matters and what doesn’t.

And it just so happens that you do matter, in this puny universe that we live in.

No matter how insignificant our lives are, but you still do matter.

And I don’t want anything to happen to you. Simple as that.