Stable waters // a heart-to-heart.

  More than three years ago I wrote a testament to the concept of blogging. Till this day I still stick by such words. There’s no doubt that language is the best means of conveying your voice (subaltern/logocentrism ref), but writing specifically puts you at the forefront of self-expression. Sure, I suppose blogs might be deemed a little archaic, and posts (on my end) are sparse – but I like to think they come from the heart. And I wouldn't have it any other way. 

  Flash forward to the start of this year: there I was, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. I was confident that 2016 was going to be my year. I felt hopeful that I could juggle a myriad of priorities all whilst keeping sane.

  But to be frank, this year was a real challenge. It wasn't the fact that it was Year 12 and that I was stressed about school – if anything, I was apathetic – but rather, I had lost sight of what mattered: the things I loved doing, the things I needed to prioritise, and most importantly myself. A lot of loose ends came undone and revealed that I still had so much to work on before I could fully devote myself to other people and responsibilities.

  The worst part is, I gave myself continuous excuses and harboured some very toxic emotions. My circumstances felt entrapping, and if I look back on the year, I can't quite say I've achieved a significant amount. The discouraging school environment was draining for me personally, and I held on trying to pretend it was okay; after a while it became bearable. I graduated not too many weeks ago and in hindsight, I've already started noticing the dramatic difference in my lust for life. I have so much more of a will to better myself as we speak.

  I found a gem of a video from Anna Akana which was not only groundbreaking but resounding of the truth. The secret to happiness? In a nutshell: growth. For myself it was a year of mental/physical stagnancy, of just sticking it through for the sake of it, and never really investing or applying myself because nothing felt worth it anymore. By not having the room for personal growth I suffered, and it shows.

  The roughest realisation was that I had become a negative influence that even I didn't want to associate with. They always say to remove yourself from relationships and environment(s) that keeping you unhappy; but what happens when you're the one inflicting all the pain? What happens when you're the one people don't want to be around? That's what left me dumbfounded. I had become the person I had sworn to never tolerate – I'd become exactly that, one who did nothing except dish out negativity.

  Not that there is anything wrong with negativity. I'm always an advocate of a healthy amount of skepticism, as well as paying homage to what is wrong. The paramount step is to attempt to resolve it. The problem comes with incessant self-awareness of your shortcomings, combined with the inability to alter one's such fate. I still don't know the antidote to self-toxicity in a mentally suppressive environment (hello, brain) but I've overcome a great deal, and I'm happy enough with progress.

  There's the good news though. I'm now 18 and am greeted with newfound responsibility! (Yay to decisions.) Since graduating I've set out all these grand plans – and now all that's left is to find to my footing and allow said plans to come to fruition. I've actively tried to work on myself, try new things and involve myself in endeavours that will only have me feeling content. (Except that one time I had to be dragged out of the front row at Flume – relentless, breath-taking-away crowds are not for the faint-hearted. Or the petite.) Catching up with long lost loved ones has been what I needed, especially when it feels like nothing has changed at all. Catching up with myself, however, is going to take a bit of time, but I'm happy to finally focus on myself and the paths I choose to take. As well as that, how I'm going to give back to those around me.

  Honestly I know it doesn't seem like it, but my love for writing hasn't changed either. I can't wait to start writing again. Writing right now just brings me back to feelings of mirth. I've been playing around the idea of a book for quite some time now, to kickstart my lurking ambition. See, I don't think anyone particularly cares, or is keen to understand, but to be able to finally write again (and forgive me, I'm rusty this time!) is more than enough.

  I know I have it in me, and I just have to keep going.

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Note to self:

Make lists. Always make lists. Make lists for the things that bring you joy, for planning a punctual trip, for the amount of dogs you've spotted that day, for the foods you love, for the books you aim to the read, the places you want to go, for the hearts you've stolen, for all the things you need (and want!) to do – and make them work for you.

Celebrate small successes. Hey look, you did something! And that 'something' might be considered minor, but on your terms, it's an accomplishment – merit yourself that. Before you did it, the very thought of executing it was petrifying. But you managed to talk to that stranger, and he even laughed at your corny joke. You managed to make it to your final kilometre. You managed to make dinner, and it didn't burn (and hey, it tastes quite nice actually). You managed to get that question right this time, after multiple tries. You managed to do a killer job at that explanation! You managed to get it through another whole day, without lashing out at yourself once.

Do not forget your worst days, for they will exalt your best. You'll be happy you hung on, so you could catch that sunset, find that jacket at the opshop, see those gradual improvements of hers, feel the sun caressing your face, laugh until you felt giddy, sample the ware from that ridiculously good fusion restaurant (you'd been meaning to try for ages now), and be able to kiss them goodnight. You're here, and that's what matters. You are not impeded by the force of any passing second; you are redeemed by the will of your following moments, for all the hell you may have endured.

Keep doing what makes you tick. You know what you love to do. Whether it's stamp collecting, having a mad yoga sesh, making short films, writing lyrics or even (dare I say it) working out. And sometimes, you put that shit off. But please, a word of advice: don't. You deserve to be doing what you love – even if that's just confined within your sparse free time. You have this incredible power to lose yourself in something you deem to be so mesmerizing, so lucrative, so much so you should utilise it to the very best of your ability. You can make yourself happy, by paying homage to you.

Take a masterclass in the art of the eyebrow. Please. (I'm thinking post-ATAR.)

P.S. stock photo of me admiring a pizza slice, thanks to Vicky

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The truth about having a rescue dog.

  Once when I was about six years old, I came home to an Australian silky terrier we were to name Scruffy. My Mum had found him ambling along the road, and he subsequently decided to follow her. He had no collar, or microchip, and had clearly been stray for days (even weeks). Henceforth my mother made the decision to introduce the first-ever dog to her own family. His stay with us was short-lived, due to complications, but nonetheless he gave us the most remarkable experience. Years later we went on to have Ruby the beagle, and Sandy the American cocker spaniel – both of whom had made their lasting impression.

  The sad truth is, millions of incredible dogs are left without a home, or find themselves subjected to improper treatment. (The latter which I find to be absolutely infuriating.) Dogs are the most beautiful creatures; ask anyone and you're likely to receive a consensus. So, to commemorate the very existence of canines, as well as the five months since Honey's adoption, it's about time I got gushy.

  Rescued by the RSPCA late last year, 2-year-old Honey was heavily pregnant and soon gave birth to seven gorgeous puppies. (Yep, that's right: a puppy having her own pups.) One by one they were adopted, leaving Honey for last. It was around January that Mum had considered getting another dog, so she started looking around. Upon my suggestion, we took to looking for dogs at the RSPCA. And so our search ensued, and ended promptly. The RSPCA had done such a fantastic job looking after Honey in the meantime. Just meeting her had my Mum convinced. As a mother herself, she fell in love with Honey's spirit and beautiful character (and vice versa!). I met her the day after, and never before had I encountered a Staffy x Kelpie cross. She was – and still is – stunning. We just knew we couldn't wait any longer to have her. 

  On the way back home, Mum sat in the backseat and held her quivering body. She had calmed down and for that entire week, I just could not leave her alone. She was a dream come true. She lived up to being as sweet as her name suggests, and in no time she became increasingly confident, exploring her new environment without fear.

  Yet, it is unknown what sort of trauma befell her, and quite frankly, it's the most excruciating thing to even imagine. No dog deserves abuse, nor neglect. Sometimes I'll still see her tremble in her dreams. She'll even bark, in muted horror. At times the only thing I can see is a past that's unerasable.

  Till this day her title as our little-but-not-so-little heart-stealer remains. With us, it's effortless. She's more than just a dog. She's an angel. Not once has she showed us a single speck of spite, but rather just, well, unconditional love. She's super affectionate, and fancies herself as a bit of a lapdog. She makes a great alarm clock every morning, too. (Did I mention she loves her baths?)

  She's not only intelligent and inquisitive (you'd best bet she's one heck of a sniffing detective), but she also has the most charming personality. She's a big fan of cuddling, as well as showering us with licks. She loves running marathons in our backyard, digging up holes, and discovering new toys she's never seen before. She knows when we're leaving, or when she wants to go for a walk, and she'll groan in intervals indicating her sentiments. Truly, yes, we do communicate! She really listens to us, is good to us, even if she is a bit playful or attached. Yet there's no doubt she's insanely protective, too.

   Why so? The simply answer being: she's lost trust in others. And for some reason I am still racking my brain for she had managed to open her heart to us so quickly, and not once has it faltered. Sadly, she is the most insecure girl I have met. Nothing comforts her more than our company. Her anxiety has been a prime issue, particularly the first couple of months after we adopted her. It wouldn't be right, of course, to not mention the days where we had our doubts and off-days. Socialising her is a risky task, and previous attempts have ended in major distress, as well as lots of tears on our end. We know it's not her fault, as she is a dog, and she's not brave enough to see beyond the worst of her experiences.

  Despite her still not being particularly friendly upon the introduction of strangers, we've been working on it patiently and have since made leaps and bounds. When she does eventually come round to someone, she's back to herself!










  Though we do we have the responsibility of making sure awry incidents don't occur again, she's certainly proven herself. She's given us hope, every single time she accepts one of our friends, or lets the neighbour at the corner of the street pet her.  Her approach to humans and calmness during walks has improved tremendously. I get so excited to see her thrive, and the best part of the day? Coming home to an excited Honey.

  I love her with all my heart, (and not just for the fact that we'd let her into our lives on Valentine's day, but purely) due to our undeniable bond. I've never met a dog like her, and in all respects she is certainly the most unique. She's really not just a pet, but a valuable member of our family.

  You see, having a rescue dog isn't just about giving them a second chance. It's about being willing to give them many more, with the right love they deserve. It's about making a commitment – to a sentient being that is so incredulously willing to dedicate themselves to you.

  Right now? She's being the puppy she was never allowed to be – and there is nothing more that makes my heart sing. Of course there is the innate fear with new situations: but we're all in it together. I can't imagine a life now without her; she adds so much colour to our lives. She's also unknowingly strengthened the bond between my Mum and I, which is absolutely priceless. In some ways, change brings on the most cherished of times.

  For both her, and us.

  If you're looking to get a dog, don't be scared to visit a shelter and meet the lovely dogs you'll find there, who are all in dire need of adoption. Don't be quick to judge, especially if it's based on breed, or put dogs from breeders on a pedestal, for you might find your canine best friend (or other types of pets) waiting for you – and for their second chance at life.

Click here to see what RSPCA animals are waiting to be adopted!

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Middle // space.

I am relapsing   to the inexorable processes of time   The series of an otherworldly crime   A crime, to myself as it seems   Our blood is constantly   curdling, every sound   is a second I'm ignoring   I've gripped the blade too close   Minutes elapse against   an asphyxiating hold   and I hang   Right in the middle,   of a mind out of its being   A mind out of its mind   A land outside of time   slowly, it's been harder   To know where I am   In this hollow glory   of distractions, crêpe-like   fractions of thought

Then I see the grapefruit pink  light taking over your cheeks  after so many weeks  Should we have to feel so bleak?  On my own i've figured out  I'm just scared,  irrational, wired to expect  the choke of my hands.  Beside you  I don't know what to say  When you look at me that way  I'm not breathing  anymore  I wish that I could turn back  the time, to a time  when everything  was alright, when  I was still breathing  Still.

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Only ones who know.

Dear _________,

  This is my love letter to life, of sorts. It's that time of year to reflect in a grand manner. I have not properly written for a month now, and it seems I haven't had the overwhelming desire to. These days I've been occupied for hours on end, with every day offering nothing less than quality.

  See, the concept of another year seemed foreign. It had been fast encroaching and as much as I was aware, it's passed me by. I've been so caught up in enjoyment that it's crazy to think I've already spent a month out of school, and primarily in bliss. Ending the year on a a high note, the main agenda in this instance is to collate my thoughts. ('Cause that's just what I do, hey?) The last 2 months of 2015 have just been so wholesome and engaging. In no way would I have predicted this; day after day of diversion - more gigs, road trips, memorable nights, impromptu picnics, fam dinners... All of it has been of sheer brilliance.

  I've made it into 2016 with the most intricate, gorgeous souls. I don't think I could have done it without the rewarding company of both the old and new. I look at where I am today and marvel at the great unprecedented events leading up to this. It all started with unknowingly rekindling/forming friendships. Just with a dash of luck, I'd been gifted an infinite sum. It's funny to think back on how I may have made this all happen. I'd decided to do more things oriented to my interests, and gathered up my favourite people. We didn't know it at the time, but we'd all get along so well. We trooped to the Last Dinos' gig in search of a good time, and came out of it with new friends. These people have ended up being so involved in my prevalent state of happiness. And would you believe it? It sparked from a single shared love: music. We'd met up each following weekend and from thereon, we bloomed collectively. (As a group and individually.) I sure didn't realise it then but my life was taking a turn for the better. As a result of this, I've been able to be in the best place possible. I'm now centred, encircled by people who strive for the better for me. How fortunate am I to have secured some of the most solid friendships in existence.

  How did I deserve it all? Well (as I'm told), just by being myself. It's something I truly thank my lucky stars for. It's times like these where I can enjoy a comfortable silence - with others, and with myself. I have peace of mind, most of the time. (A state of higher order that seemed almost impossible to achieve with the way my 2015 had been going.) (Note that I am, in every aspect, genuine regarding what I am going to say. They say some things should be left unsaid but hey, I'm all about constant verbal expression.) For long, I had felt arrantly disconnected. The blood in my veins had begun to match the everyday blues, and colour had paled from my face. I was smiling but doing so with every piercing reservation. I'd been in limbo, sickly stifled and stuck in the void. I wasn't moving, nor living. The days were dull and unstimulating, and I owed my lack thereof to my own inadequacy. That's where it became fatal.

  I'd begun pulling myself apart. I hated feeling what I did. (How could I? It seemed I had no real problems.) The problem was ultimately me. They say you should always extract the problem, and I was so determined to to yank it by the root. I'd contemplated ending it all, and switching off to a quiet place forever. (Oh, an euphemism I'd thought so fondly of.) I was irrevocably helpless for a period of time because no matter what, I could not help myself. I was a hot mess. I couldn't find it within me, and as it seemed, others couldn't stick around either. I did have lifelines - yes, I did. I had many. I just didn't want to resort to them. I've succumbed to hopelessness and my self-convinced title as a burden. Yet with magical timing, the tables had turned. I don't know how, but I'm sure it began with me learning to stop suppressing.

  I am proud of being my own person. I am proud of who others are. I am proud to have them in my life, as I am in theirs. I am the epitome of sentience and I love it. I make a difference and I know damn well that I do. (Though I may spite myself, I need to realise I am human. We all second-guess ourselves. I just need to not let it get in the way.) Our adversities are unique but in some way, related. That's where we connect; the dots are traced and lined up seamlessly to create something unified. We're a beautiful, cluttered mess. In other words - we're all in this, together. Never should I allow myself to feel as I'm less or parallel to my tragedies. Never should I treat myself the way I wouldn't want others to treat me. I am alive and present. I need to be there for myself, so I can be there for all the significant people and moments in my life.

***

  What have I been doing these days? (The redundant question stands.)

  I've certainly been on my feet. Bare feet, running, sauntering, dancing. I've been writing letters - a rare medium I want to let others savour. I've shared words and opinions. I've shared kisses. I've shared drinks. I've shared tears (over the phone and in person). Most importantly, I've shared moments. It's been the real deal. Perhaps I was caught off guard when all this sharing became commonplace but, I can't imagine being my raw self any other way.

  You may know I have no qualms about being open. Absolutely none. I'm as open as can be. This, coupled with my own way of living and accepting, was well worth the risk of being vulnerable. I used to believe that I was too much of an open book. I now know I was quite wrong. If I hadn't experienced the lows, I wouldn't be able to appreciate the highs in such great depth. I wouldn't have been able to scale the heights I have now. 

  I never have New Year's resolutions. I don't end up abiding by them, since I feel that the turning over of a new leaf shouldn't necessarily rely on a brand new year. But I've thought of one simple, conclusive yet powerful resolution: Take my own advice. I am often told I give great advice, and it's about time I practise what I preach. (Oh, and get ample rest, too.)

  Someone dear once said to me: 'Your mind is one of the greatest Indra's nets I know.' It almost made me cry. I know the full weight of its meaning now. I am so glad I hung on for my own sake, and been dealt with strength. It's fact that I'm prone to have things weigh on my mind, and in 2015, I'd finally learnt to let go. I'd learnt so much about staying honest/true to myself. It's been the most endearing and relieving revelation. For once, it all feels right.

  I hope 2016 will be another golden year for us.

All my love,

Rachel x

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Shalala.

Baby I'm so blind / You're far too kind / I'm made of paper / Blankly waiting for someone to make their mark / Will that be me?
"A thousand kisses for the morning sun."
I can't stand this vertigo / This dual reality dealt to me / The cards lining up against me / The white noise kills.

I hate traffic / Especially when it escalates / Their paths collided momentarily / And all of them began to yell.
"I'll just stay inside until I make my own goodbye – I just wanna be whole."
I'm bored out of my mind / I feel sanity slowly slipping away / I want to let my eyes roll back / Into their sockets, limbs limp / And lips dry, glazed eyes / "I'm tired of this reality."
I'll turn you over in mind / Until I force myself to stop / It's a tedious task / To get this train to halt.
"It'll be okay kid, got your ticket for the new sensation."
I guess I thought a lot / About demise and worse / How the silence fills the / Room, but the blackness looms.
"I'll be fine, I'll see you waiting in the sunshine."

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Keep your eyes closed, we can live in a reverie.

  Dreaming. It's been one thing, for sure, that has always fascinated me. I've been prone to recurring, or bizarre dreams for the past few weeks. In all honesty, I don't mind them. I happen to fancy a truly awe-inspiring dream every now and again. They're food for thought, that I try to not to devour, but digest restfully. I often scrutinize my dreams and conclude that it's all a make-believe reality. The subconscious realm of pure slumber intertwined with a pinch of fantasy. The tender promise of a simultaneous union. They are all worth the hours of tossing in bed. Let's not forget the ever-present twisted elements that are part of the package, or the deceivingly sweet enclave that often makes us question how and why. 

  They sometimes envelop me in otherworldly assurance, in the arms of the familiar. Sometimes they do not. The naiveté that has me on a high can send me into a swift descent. However, it's fact that the magnitude of dreams are incomprehensible - perhaps that's what makes them so enchanting. I am blessed in this life, that's for sure. Though occasionally, I'd much rather dreamtime than anything this teeming reality could ever offer me. It presents me with the possibilities I've longed for, even the ones that become deliciously true.

  What about you? What do your dreams tell you? 

'The world is in your palm now, so take a breath and calm down.' - Smallpools

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Baby we're outside of time.

Habitual languor is a blessing, as i deem A concave of a dream The nullity caving in The surrounding love enfolds and tells me, "it's okay, to feel this way" A concept so arcane almost spineless,

met with sheer cordiality These bloodshot eyes, tears of sentimentality they make way for the new sense of consolation Our nameless quest to find the beauty in the dark We're in this upheaval together we'll embark

  It seems I've begun to take a liking to word spills. Why's that?

  To be frank, I'm not sure either. Perhaps I haven't been idle enough to convolute my thoughts. Perhaps the contentment in my fragile frame is steadily rising. Perhaps I'm in the happiest place I have ever been for the longest while. Though bittersweet, I've found my footing. I don't feel like I'm sinking anymore. I simply don't have to pretend. I have the promise of some of the fondest people, and genuine things to look forward to.

  You know what's funny? As cliché as it sounds, music brought us together. The past three weeks contain memories that will surely be hard to forget. These are the days I stuck around for, the days I didn't see coming but brought so much joy. The days I'm confident of, ones I didn't need to feign. The sunsets and shows and willingness to embrace have been worth it. I'm sure of it. These are the instances where we took our stand, fought time, and came out triumphant at last.

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17.

"Expect the unexpected" Plains as far as the eye can see A ray of light, bursting from a prism Overpriced ice cream, dripping amity  Diluted smoke or the lack thereof Between the tendrils gracing  Binary effort mapped in your palms Strangers lodged on a bus Glass in the park Zestful vibes all round  An everlasting panorama in my head Fireworks, proffering surprised cries Extended, elementary grins Night drives and distant roads Oh, how this feels sublime The night, it stretches on The whirring engine lingers I feel the wind in my hair

Up in the hills elation crept in    Is there anywhere else I'd rather be?    Shy away from that solipsism       I laugh along happily    Drifts comfortably up above    Your face, heart racing    Another face, another charm        A faded film picture, of us    Should rightfully make you happy as a lark    Come the soothing conflict of sound    I'll dance and sing and hope instead        Casting awe and elucidating dim-lit skies    Contented with all your losses and your wins    Take what's gifted, what's bestowed    The day is seized, it's finally mine        A rhapsody of that I'm fond    Scenic chills disperse my fingers    Tonight, I haven't a single care

more photos // "you caught the light"
  (Here's to a well-spent, spontaneous seventeenth)

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HOW TO FIND MY SOUL // Last Dinosaurs live.

(Warning: Last Dinos puns ahead.)

  Sunday Night saw an enthused me, with the chance to see one of my favourite bands live. It was an evening I'd been looking forward to for absolute ages. What overcame me was an unexplainable, concurrent feeling of both effervescence and tranquility. After the first one or two songs, I realized how natural it was to be able Stream all their lyrics by heart. To me, Last Dinosaurs aren't all just about eccentric funky tunes, but way more. I've fond memories tied to their every circa 2012 track, and their second album was surely one to send me in a surreal frenzy yet again.

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  So imagine me, close-eyed and vividly singing along. Honestly, what an atmosphere there was - even right from the beginning. We met some extremely like-minded people. Everyone's energy was fuelled by one another's. It was bliss, in the womb of the venue, as every guitar riff and melodious nuance ricocheted off the walls; just the right Time and Place, you could say. And to be honest, I have certain opportunities to thank. This very highlight of my year, as minor as it may seem, was all managed in serendipity. The fruition of these events came about with me putting my foot forward, for something I love.

"I try to crystallize my fictive thoughts / You may not realise, but that's what I'm here for" — Evie

   That so happens to be writing. Never In A Million Years did I think I'd ever get the chance to meet/talk to any of the members of Last Dinos. Yet a while ago, I had a mountain of luck. Having the experience of firstly chatting to one of my musical idols was incredible (courtesy to Isolated Nation) - followed by the tangible occasion itself. I've found serious gratification in these intertwined passions. See, music has been a crazy paramount part of my existence and I quite literally could not live without it. Fuse that with writing, however, and you have yourself a winning deal.

"If or only you could feel this with me / Maybe you would change your mind, and tell me" — Always"

“Keep me in your flame, or burn me it’s the same / We're never gonna win” — Karma

  In the case of Last Dinosaurs, they are quite possibly the most sentimental band I've had the pleasure of pouring myself into. I Can't Decide what I'm more happy about - the experience of being within arm's reach of creators who have had so much of an impact on my wellbeing, or the fact that I got to tell them how their music has helped. There's just something about Wellness that is evocative of so many earnest emotions. Every verse has me floating, almost suspended out of this world. For weeks on end I'd chime with its words regarding the overall journey of self: songs purely devised of introspection, the focus on growth, some touching on mental health, and of course, good old nostalgic love. 

"If or only you could feel this with me / Maybe you would change your mind, and tell me" — Always

The conclusion: It's all Karma. Keep the positive energy flowing. Always stay grounded, know where you lie on the equilibrium scale. Take Your Time to assess it all. Remember your worth. You deserve the very best, nothing less. The patience pays off. Don't you worry, don't you blink. Let yourself take a chance. Things will go from Zero to hero before you know it. 

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Wellness.

  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 for 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 who could have 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 riff, 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.

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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.

+ Click here to listen to the rest of the playlist, as per routine.

YOU CAN ALSO FIND ME ON BLOGLOVIN // GFC // INSTAGRAM // SOUNDCLOUD // SPOTIFY

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, Isabella. We 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.

On a side note, if you're a fan of my Musical Muses series, I have another playlist in store for you! The kind Erin from Being Erin let me do a guest post - now, I'm always in awe of her playlists for every occasion - so of course I had to share some suitable holiday tunes. It corresponds quite a bit to this post. Head on over to have a listen!

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