about losing someone

loss makes you believe that you will one day find them again in familiar places,

in the faces of strangers you meet on the train,

in the busy traffic on a Thursday evening,

in the scorching hot city pavement on a busy afternoon and the sun’s rays filtered through trees,

in the crowd of people waiting on the bus stop you see through the fogged window when it rains,

in the muffled dings of the elevator bells you hear just when you stepped out for lunch,

in the 80’s ballads a co-worker is playing out loud from across the room,

in the purplish night sky and its barely visible stars that you barely paid attention to as you made your way home,

in the glass of water and the plate of steaming hot rice you were about to have at a place near your house; wishing it will fill your heart once more like how their cooking used to.

loss makes you believe that perhaps, one day, you’ll see them again somewhere near.



I can still feel

millions of strings

tying my feet to the ground.

Why can’t I get back up?

Why can’t I soar up high?

Why can’t I smile again?

One of those strings is you;

telling me

that you



Another is also you, telling me that

you cared about me;

that I’m too precious

to be hurting myself

like that.

Another is, once again, you;

telling me that when I

hurt myself, I am also



Another is you telling me that I am too much of a burden. Another is you telling me that my feelings are too much for you. Another is you telling me to stop trying to message you so much. Another is you turning your back away, telling me to go home when I told you that I needed to talk to you. Another is you, blaming me when I can’t meet you the next time because I was away. Another is you ignoring me on purpose every time we pass each other by on school corridors. Another is you only talking to me when you have something you need from me, and that something is always sex. Another is you telling me that my feelings no longer matter to you. Another is you telling me that what we had no longer matters to you. Another is you telling me that I no longer matter to you.

Another is you, telling me, to go on continue carving scars after scars on my skin and wishing for myself to die;

because you

no longer



5 years have passed and I’m still trying to get back up.

I still trip every single time.


For this one 11:11, I dedicate my wish to you.

Sometimes I cannot fathom the fact that we’ve only really known each other for at least a year, and we’ve only started talking to each other since then. It doesn’t make sense to me how someone I’ve known for such a small amount of time can feel more familiar and more comfortable than some other people I’ve known for most of my life.

It always feels so odd talking to you. You’re the only person I’m okay holding a 2+ hours phonecall with. You’re the only person I know that I’ve ever felt comfortable talking to at late hours, all the way until 3 a.m., talking about the most private and personal parts of my life when I’ve only started talking to you regularly in less than 2 weeks.

All my life I’ve never been more thankful of having the chance to meet someone, before I met you.

Alright, so it’s your 21st birthday. Starting from this day you are now able to buy alcohol very legally with your ID, among with literally any other things that are often still illegal to do even after you’re 18, and I am very jealous of you.

(you still can’t drink alcohol, though. It’s for the good of your own stomach.)

This 11:11, I only have one wish for you: 


Keep on growing, even when the ground is rough and dry. Break through the surface even if it’s concrete floor. Stay true to yourself. Life hasn’t been so kind to you lately, and things may have been tough, but you will persevere. You will march on, you will go through it and figure things out no matter what life throws at you,

and you’ll always have support. I will not let you down. When you feel like you can’t stand on your own, my hand is always here for you to hold. Lean on me until you feel like you’re strong enough.

And in the end, I know you’ll always be strong enough.

Happy early 21st birthday, starshine. May you shine bright as always.


Today I nearly attempted to take my own life.

I was on the train station, having had recently gotten off the train. I wanted so badly to jump off the platform and onto the tracks. It was exhausting to suppress the thoughts that slowly eats through my mind.

Getting out of the train station, I could barely stop myself from running straight into traffic. My mind was a dull whir, like a broken machine. I couldn’t hear any of my thoughts, I couldn’t even think clearly. The only thing I could picture was my body, badly mangled and bloody after a train ran over me. I could only hear car horns, as I run right in front of a speeding car.

What will it matter? I thought. Are things even worth holding on for tomorrow? A year from now? Twenty years from now?

Loneliness is a dangerous poison.

Odorless, colorless. I was laughing, I talked on, I told jokes. I hugged people. I didn’t realize how loneliness haunts me still, how it still weighs down on me. It crept on and on until it came for me right when I least expect it.

Then it suffocated me. Even when so many people are surrounding me, right now; fifty, or maybe sixty years from now, I’d still die alone in my apartment room that I live in all by myself. 

So does it matter if I die today or twenty years or fifty years from now?

Yet I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I was a coward.

I don’t know how long I’ll stay as one.