It's been a rough week.

  Perhaps it was the congenital dread tied to the commencement of a new week. Sunday nights are a very dangerous time. The following two days were in similar pursuit: my mind trying to wrestle and take me down. It succeeded, for one.

  What sparked it all: an unfortunate moment of realization.

  I don't know if it's the late nights that imbue me with an incurable plague of sadness. I don't know if there's genuinely something wrong with me. I don't know if it's me at all, repeatedly nursing and gashing these wounds. I don't know a lot, and I am trying my best to find the answers for myself.

  Then it hit me. All the things I thought were a part of me were perhaps a separate entity on their own; the part of me that tried to tear me down was doing no good for me. I needed to peel those parasitic layers away, because the feeling was multiplying - and I, in turn, was becoming the host for its torment. Yet it was hard to distinguish when it was eroding me.

  I've worked out the triggers: the sensing of unresolved issues, noise, idleness, obligation, school... I know, they aren't the cause. They drive things into worse ground but they are not responsible for my hardship. It's all on me. I'm responsible.

  I know I have a support system when I need it, an excellent one at that - yet the little cracks ingrained in me always host the shortcut to misery. The things that shouldn't bother me do. The things I am immensely grateful have run short of solace. It's an eternal and internal paradox.

  There's a lot that I wanted to let out on those nights. I had it all written up, sitting obediently in my drafts. Does it really have to be said? I question myself every time I spill.

  But for the purpose of this being one of my safe havens, I want to share my lowest point. I know I am not alone, no matter how much my brain convinces me during those times. In revealing the weakest side of me, I urge those suffering to seek help.


  I've had a problem. I never knew it was problem. I thought it was just in my nature, my character - for the longest time. I didn't think I needed to change. I was who I was. 'I am who I am,' was the mantra. 

  I stay true to myself, I have a self-esteem, I treat myself.

  What's the problem then?

   I'm neurotic. I want to say I am not ashamed of it but I am. I am ashamed of how I think so much. I'm a big believer of moderation, so it's never new when I'm always advised 'Don't worry too much' or 'Try not to think about it'. Honest, I tell myself that too. But I don't follow my own advice. I'm guilty as hell of that. No one ever says anything about it being okay to be emotional by nature, to be hypersensitive.

  I'm scared the stigma attached to mental health will send people in the other direction. (I'm a huge advocate for it but when I realised it well and truly concerned my own wellbeing, I was so overwhelmed. 'I have to tread lightly. I have to be careful what I say, to who.' I remember telling someone last year. It was a huge step. She looked at me with doubt. 'Are you sure? You don't know look like someone with a mental health disorder'. It felt like a punch. It hurt a lot. That stuck with me. I believed it. I withdrew myself from the idea. ) By people - I don't mean the people whom don't know me, but those who do. Those who think they do, those who I love and can't bear to lose.

  The perceptions that will change. I've already lost sight of which thoughts are really me, and if others' were to change, I'd be kept in the dark. No one would know, not even myself.

 Losing people is something else altogether. I am swimming in my own mind without end. I'm out of my mind, literally, whenever I even as so much talk to someone. Being caught up in the currents, I'd do anything to grasp onto a lifeline. It provides me with temporary relief.

  We're basically told not to give a shit. Time will heal wounds. But. Is there advice about stabbing yourself and deepening your already inflicted wounds? Who do I turn to when there is no one at the time, but myself? Does anyone give a shit then?

  I do. And I'm sick of infinitely feeling this way.


  Let me first talk about why I love music so much. It fills the silence, instead of what would be my pool of thoughts. It is the only constant in my life. I'm in harmony with the melodies, every rift, and every drum beat. I know them well. I know they won't disappoint. (I mean, my immanence really is equivalent to uncertainty.) Hence, I cannot live without it. Music is what keeps me in a steady place.

  Second of all, I'm a people person. I rely on others - full stop. There's no way two ways about it. This is the most terrifying thing to admit. I've been told I'm independent in some aspects, but personally I know I am more inclined to being dependable. 

  I get so scared of my mind. When I get to this point, I want to lock myself away. I want to run. I want to evade everything. I want to shut out the world. I don't feel like I can face anyone - especially the relationships where it's all surface, and no substance. I harbour hatred for small talk. I harbour hatred for how reliant I am on those I love. I harbour hatred for worrying them. I harbour hatred for not who I am, but how I am. It's a helpless place, and I'm descending further into the abyss. 

  At this moment, I am set right to implode.

  I have attempted to track my mood patterns. They're always a stiff climb and during manic episodes, I am unstoppable. That is, until my mind drags me back down again. I wallow in that same old pit of misery. It used to go on for days, months. They only make an appearance periodically now. I have also retraced my own timeline of thought, through posts dating back to 2011. It's insane. I look back at something I wrote over two years ago and I can feel exactly the same as I did then.

  I am trying to help myself.

  No matter what, it ends up in failure.


  Thankfully, I am feeling better now. I've been unstable, of course, but when have I never? I know I can cope, I know that in this frame of mind I'll be alright. I have sought out the people who are always there for me. I've had my share of outbursts, love and support, and the tears which had been suppressed for so long. Now I know exactly who I need to see.

  I'd been afraid of what was always wrong in me. It was a manifested web I'd fallen victim to. I'd become oddly comfortable with it. Maybe if it eats me, sure death will be near. It will all end. I'd foolishly allowed it to consume me. I'd declared myself prey. Not anymore.

  (It's funny. People are more alike than I think - especially those closest to me, whom I'd never suspected would feel the same. It's hit me with blinding astonishment, and startled me in ways. I'd begun to feel ashamed. I'd begun to feel more clarity. I'd begun to feel like it wasn't the end, for the first time. Letting it out was what I needed all this while.)

  Now, onto the next step: to get back on track.

  Time to fix myself, to take the determined road to recovery.


Lose it.

Vision, blurry. A liquidation of sorts. I'm yearning to come to the surface, for a tinge of air. The fictive manacles drag me down. I grow more and more paranoid writhing with all my might. Don't move, don't even think of moving. The more you move, the more distress you'll land yourself in. Just stay still, the ripples will dismiss themselves. You'll float right to the top, triumphant.
  There's been overt affliction lately. I don't know if it's just within me and the others all around me, but I'm sure people I know, on the other side of the globe feel it too. It's the stifling momentum, whether it be of school/life/work.

  Think of it this way: ROUTINE. Bold, scary, yet we can't seem live without it. It's tantamount; we are innately a part of it. We adopt it in order for ourselves to function on a day-to-day basis. Because it is so crucial, there is near-death commitment to our routines. There are always things to do, places to be and people to see. 

  But there's also time for a break - from the entrapment of our own circumstances. We just need to make time. To step away from it all. We are not machines, we cannot lose sight of that.

 Guaranteed, it's not easy. When someone was visibly stressed, I used to try and initiate a light-hearted response. I didn't think much of it. That was insensitive of me though. Now I understand it all too well. I remember last night was one of sheer stress, I can surely say. It built up, crept up behind me when I thought I was going at my own pace. The task at hand wasn't even worthy of a breakdown, but that didn't stop it. Then it hit me and the tension flowed up, throbbing at my temples. An incessant reminder of the anxiety bank I'd said I'd keep at bay. Breathing became a task. But I ended up being okay. I had my lifelines, I called them. I removed myself from what was attacking me. So raw, so internal and seemingly harmless. I was wrong, but I had combated it. I knew I had to lie down and take a break. So I did, and by doing so I knew I had put myself first.

  Amongst all the things I worry tirelessly about, school never used to be one of them. As of now it's claimed its priority, inhibiting the life I'd like to lead. I've been decent at it. I'd like to think I'm rather good at managing my mindset. Other times I completely lose the plot. I curl up and succumb, and plead for someone to save me. By then, it has nothing to do with school - but with how I can help myself.

  These days I've considered everything, from theories of universal relevance to if the next beautiful meteor shower will take us. What really does matter? On the days I cannot sleep I think of what will come next, the next moment. Every fleeting second discarded away for what, bated breath? Why do we do this to ourselves? How is it so ingrained in us to worry without end?

  I think of the times I've felt the least bit worried. The times I've lost it. I can't equate what 'it' is, it just is. And I think I finally understand. When you lose it, you feel happiest. All that was in your heavy possession is now relinquished, regardless of how temporary the moment is. It's a great feeling.

  Time is a catalyst. When it reaches a scarcity, we are rushed to carry out our tasks. The rationality dissipates - so you, unfortunately, can lose your feet in the process.

  When time is on your side, we become more idle. We're too comfortable for words. Because you have so many spaces to fill within your time, you can explore the impetuses of innovation with more will. You can look at what you're doing, with more ease, and re-evaluate. You can make clearer decisions and adjustments. You can just breathe.

  So seize those little moments, they are yours. Unlock that 4th dimension.


Sydney iPhone diary.

  Hello! I'm not dead. It's been a while since I've had a proper life update, or since I've been on here really. I've missed being able to blog. If only I could succinctly sum up the past month or so... at best, it's had its up's and down's but I am just indebted to what I have - even if melancholy kicks in when it pleases. I haven't had exciting pursuits up my sleeve since the start of term, but for now, I'd love to share my overdue Sydney travels.

  So, this girl went to Sydney three weeks ago. What was most exciting was that I hadn't been back there for a decade! I grew up on the suburbian outskirts of the city but fail to recall very much. I was only in town for the weekdays so I knew I had to make the best of it. I grabbed a few great suggestions of places to visit + things to do, off my beloved blog friends (thank you Tara, Bella and Gerry!) My camera haplessly malfunctioned the night before my flight, hence I relied on my trusty iPhone for visual documentation. (Do excuse the horrendous quality! My camera still needs replacing, which has me heartbroken.)

DAY 1 // KING CITY   →  Darling Harbour, Sydney CBD, Sydney Fish Market, Thaitown
Touched down, checked in, scoped out the streets and famous landmarks, then met up with a great friend of a friend. I've only ever known him through his digital presence, so it was pleasant seeing someone so dear to my friend in person.
I also saw another familiar face - guess who! Whilst out and about, I bumped into Bella out of pure coincidence. Yep, the kickass Bella from Sincerely, IsabellaWe were literally just passing by each other when we had a moment of recognition. If that's not luck, I don't know what is.
DAY 2 // LOST ON ME    →  Newtown
Made plans to see Bella in the evening. We met up at Newtown, a quaint little suburb on the outskirts of Sydney, with plenty of groovy nooks and crannies. I instantly understood why it was of such great repute. We had a very late afternoon tea @ the Milk Bar cafe, after she took me round to have a look at the cemetery and parklands.
We mulled over our thoughts, creative pursuits and current lives over sweet potato fries. She's honestly such a darl. I'm very thankful for the time we had, as that girl's got one heck of a busy schedule. (It's miraculous how this is the 4th person I've met through blogging! Someone my age, too, so there was a lot to relate with. Life can be pretty cool sometimes.)
DAY 3 // QUIET ACHIEVER   →  White Rabbit Art Gallery, Hyde Park, Surry Hills
Imbued with a sense of unforgiving wanderlust, Wednesday's lone adventure was fixated on the White Rabbit Art Gallery. I thought venturing out of my comfort zone would serve me more good, and I was right this time. It's a place I've longed to visit, since I've heard rave reviews about it. There was absolutely spectacular art; contemporary Chinese artists are certainly very outside-the-box.
Not to mention, their inbuilt cafe had the most relaxing ambience. Its iconic ceiling decor was comprised of numerous clustered bird cages, and never before had I seen such unique work. I had a pot of oolong tea and scones all to myself. Later on, I caught up with my long-time family friend Katrina. It was sweet to chat after having not seen her in the last few years.
DAY 4 // NANGS   →  Newtown, Circular Quay, Paddy's Markets, Sydney CBD
Lo and behold, we've reached the most exciting bit: 24 entire hours with Mariel! We've been dreaming of this day for ages. (You might know that she moved to Sydney early last year.) The first half of our day consisted of us venturing to Newtown again. There was too much hype to pass it up.
However, it rained torrentially - and needless to say, that dampened things a little. We ate at Moo Burgers, and walked round and had some coffee @ Brewtown. Everything up to the latter was a string of odd experiences, but by the time we settled down for that much-needed drink, things started to pick up. (Let's take a moment to thank the universe for puppies and caffeine.)
We took a much anticipated trip to Circular Quay, home to the Museum of Contemporary Art Australia. There were some eccentric exhibitions that we uncovered, but our exploration was short. By the time we had to meet up with my Mum and her friends for dinner, we hadn't gone nearly as many places as we'd planned. (Think ever so iconic Bondi and other wonderful spots. I guess there's always next time!)
We did go to Paddy's Markets - even though we would've rathered the chance to visit the Glebe/Kirribilli/Rozelle ones. But in all honesty, I was just way too glad to be able to have physical time with Mariel. (Plus, what better way to wind down after a day's adventure with scrumptious Thai? I kid you not, I had Thai almost every day. No regrets.) When someone you hold close is unwittingly separated by distance, every second you have with them is profound.
DAY 5 // TOTAL ZOMBIE   →  back home!
It was the last day. It was out of lazy nature, too. I slept in rather late (as my sleeping schedule consisted of failed attempts and as a result, me being up till 3am). I got to spend the rest of the day with Katrina, and after dinner we had to say our goodbyes. Fortunately though, I'll be seeing her fairly soon. You know, I thought of the life I could've had - if I were to have stayed in Sydney. I thought of how close I was to growing up and belonging to a city so great, and of course, every other little wishful thought showed up. It's crazy, when you think of how different you could be just by living in another state. I pledged to myself though, that I'd be back again someday.



  The cold creeps in. There's that despicable pallor on your hands. Flashes of coruscating light peak through, and you look up, wondering if perished buds could ever bloom again. It isn't that simple.

  You've been waiting. Waiting for hours on end. Your physicality has slipped away from you. Your entity relies on the encircling world. The world is blurry without a trace. It could be in front of you one moment, foreign the next.

  You lie, in a comatose state. You're nothing more than a headcase, soon to be a rested one. You would tell them: How could one be strong, if they hadn't yet experienced weak? You were weak and you accepted it. It didn't make you any less. See, now this is what they fail to grasp. You didn't mind the synthesis, of soaking up the foliage. Feeling over form, as common Romantics would resound. The act made you feel small, that you belonged. In fact, it wasn't an act at all. You were right where you'd always dreamt of.

  Petals have shrivelled in your palm. All your colour is drained as the sun hides away. 'It's time to go', they whispered.
Every time I get stronger, while I'm waiting here for you / let the feeling take over, you've got nothing left to lose / tell me how you feel / why does it feel so, so real? when did it become so real? / Every colour, mixed together will make another reality



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