I regret a lot of the decisions I made when I was younger. You’re young and goddamn motherfucking stupid and you go sign a phone line under your name for your ex-boyfriend (who is a goddamn low-life and a fucking parasite) and now you have to pay $900 to cancel the line. What is my life right now? I used to think I was pretty smart but after getting that letter from SingTel, I don’t feel so smart afterall (hur hur).

What do I do now? Do I feign ignorance because “it’s not me, it was him!” Do I sit in a corner and cry about it? I just want to run away from it all so badly, run to the woman whose milk fed my fragile body and whose blood runs through my veins (my mother) and let her handle it for me, I want all the bad things to go away…but I’m 24 and I’m an adult and as much as I want to cry and kill said person, I won’t because murder is frowned upon and because no, I will not be beaten down by the likes of a fucking son of a bitch, and when I get knocked down, I get up again, you’re never gonna keep me down~

I’ve been through a lot worse than having to part with $900 but yeah, I did feel very “meh” and “fuck you, world” last night but I called Tom and we had a nice, long conversation which has made me not hate everything and everyone so much. I always turn to Tom or call him before I leap blindly into any sort of commitment. He’s more level-headed and less emotional than I am, would think of a solution to a problem instead of crying the worries away (me, cause I’m a woman and I’m allowed to cry over everything).

In other words, I was a fucking idiot when I was 15, blinded by ideas of love I saw on TV, thought only of myself and looking cute, decided that I wasn’t good enough for anyone else so I had no choice but to settle with what I had, and thought through my arse (I was such an amazing kid, wasn’t I?). It could have gotten better if I hadn’t went through the next 7 years of my life with fucking unnecessary baggage. I wasn’t a girlfriend, more of a mother who had to give pocket money to her son and buy presents for him so he won’t hate her. How shallow was I, buying someone’s affection~

But isn’t it such a cruel joke the world is playing on me that even though it’s been 2 years since we broke up, he still has to have some sort of place in my life – his $900 phone bill under my name.

As much as I want to let a pack of rabid wolves have a go at this useless being, I will not (cause where the fuck will I find a pack of rabid wolves in this city?!). I will be a lady, hold my head high because this too shall pass (thought I’ll end it off with a philosophical bang).



It’s June. The second of June. I’ve not seen Tom in 5 months. I don’t wanna sound needy but I goddamn fucking miss him. It’s all fine and dandy to Skype and text and call, but really, I would much rather like to have him next to me in bed than my phone. My friends tell me that I’m “strong” and I get “how do you do it” from people I meet, but let me tell you this, I am not strong. I’m…adaptable. I learn to adapt, I learn to get into a motion of things, a routine, which is why I wasn’t really in good shape when I got back to Singapore – Tom wasn’t there, my routine wasn’t there.

Some days I miss him and some days I bloody miss him. I try to occupy my time with other people but they have their own lives to lead and my best friend is so far away in fucking Melbourne and it’s not cool how life has dealt me with this set of cards. “I’ll just fucking put your best friend in Melbourne and your boyfriend on like fucking Mars!” 75% of the time I’m fine. I go to work, I text Tom, we Skype, text some more, and I go to bed, and the whole routine starts again. Sometimes (usually on cold, stormy nights), I cry myself to sleep, I text him incessantly for an hour straight even when I know he’s sleeping and can’t reply, send him a slew of texts saying “I miss you”. It’s pathetic but some days my emotions get the better of me and I end up in a heap of blubbering mess.

Some days I feel helpless, like I really need to have Tom with me. Helplessness turns into desperation and I start panicking and…well, it gets very ‘not good’. I hate knowing that I’m missing out on so much of his life, that I’m missing out on his family’s lives. I’ve never had a great relationship with my family but Tom’s family has been so kind and welcoming, I love being around them, I want to watch the kids grow up, I want to have a closer relationship with them, I just want to be there and not miss out on anything. I know they’re not my family but it feels like they are and I’ve grown to love each and every one of them.

So, guys, I’m really not “strong”, I break down like the rest of you, more than most. I’m a big fat emotional turmoil inside but I just try to brave through it. Because it’s gonna feel really amazing when I finally get to see Tom again. With a big bouquet of flowers at the airport. Cause he’s an amazing boyfriend that way.


I had a little anxiety attack in the bus to work just now. I realized how difficult it was to get a visa to be with Tom. More tedious than difficult but it’s sort of the same thing really, isn’t it? It seems like the easiest thing to do now is to just get married. It’s a scary thought, getting married. It’s scary enough getting married but to get married just to get a visa…that’s on a whole different level of scary. Dear Singapore, why don’t you have stronger ties with the UK? Dear Queen of England, why do you have to impose such strict immigration laws? Dear Universe, why are you doing this to me?

I’ve looked through websites, forums, I’ve called up embassies, trying to get some sort of help, or guidance as to how I could get into the UK without having to sneak around and be an illegal immigrant. It’s been 4 months since I last saw Tom, and it sickens me thinking about how much longer I have to be without him. It’s frustrating, it’s depressing and just plain tiring having to do all these. Many would say “why did you have to go and fall in love with someone who lives halfway across the world?” Well, excuse me, I’m sorry, I should definitely have taken into consideration the fact that he lives in another continent before I decided “yeah, okay, I’ll fall in love with you” -.-

I didn’t think that this personal issue would land itself on a page on the Internet but it has. It’s my way of saying “here, now that you know what I’m going through, I guess this is our problem now, so let’s deal with it together!” I really don’t know what to do anymore. I could just try and get a visa and see what happens but to start on the whole process…urgh.

And the fact that Tom has to be fucking earning at least £19,000 a year…WHO FUCKING EARNS THAT MUCH IN A YEAR ANYWAY?! THE BLOODY PRESIDENT THAT’S WHO! -.- That’s like $40,000! Okay, I’m gonna go die quietly in a hole somewhere, cause I just can’t right now. My ability to ‘can’ is currently not present and I will not drive myself into another panic because I’m at work and my boss might think I’m crazy so no, we will not talk about this until a later date.

Maybe I’ll be married by then…LOL! No.


It’s frustrating being an adult. Besides having to earn your own keep and having to actually be responsible, you actually have to take care of yourself and ensure that you don’t die before you’re supposed to. You have to see a doctor when you’re sick, find food when you’re hungry, and sometimes, when the occasion calls for it, pay $453 for a dentist to have a look inside your mouth.

I did that. I paid $453 to see a dentist because I want to keep my teeth for as long as I possibly can. I had 6 fillings in and that amounted to $453, inclusive of 7% GST and $10 for “sterilization and disposals” – what the hell is that even? Would I not have been charged $10 more if I had told her “no, thank you, I’ll not go for the sterilized equipment”?

Everything now sounds like ‘responsibility’. I want to have no part in any of these.


I’ve been told that I’m a pretty intelligent individual but quoting ‘Mean Girls’ isn’t a very incredible feat, I don’t think. I’ve read a couple of Shakespeare’s works, memorized the words to every song Britney Spears has ever made, I did Additional Mathematics for my ‘O’ Levels, I even got a Diploma in Law, and even after all that, I don’t think I’ve amounted to much. I’ve had 24 years to get my life together, to make a point in my life, I’ve had jobs, I’ve made connections but you know what? I’ve gone from knowing jack shit to fuck all. I feel like I should have at least had a bit of something at the tip of my fingers by now, but I don’t.

I’m someone’s personal assistant right now. I take two and a half hours to get to work at 9.30am every day, I leave work at 5pm and take another two and half hours to get home. I sit in the office the whole day not doing anything cause my boss isn’t even in the office. How does one be a PA when one’s boss isn’t even there? I go on Facebook, Twitter, Youtube, I repeat, I put my hand in my bag and take out a bag of Haribo, I snack, I watch videos, I sit around playing Subway Surfers (most amazing game I think) and Jelly Splash, I try to while my time away, my brain cells die slowly, one at a time, I complain about being paid to do nothing.

I just chipped a nail on my finger and I picked at it and now it’s not the same length as the rest and it’s annoying me. I just want to go home and clip my nails and make them all even. I’m currently at work, trying to hold in my pee cause I don’t really like to pee in the toilet here. There are air ventilators on the toilet door and the toilet is right inside the office so when you pee, everyone can here the sound of your pee making contact with the water in the toilet bowl and that’s just grim.

I’ve been at work for the past 6 hours, not even attempting to look busy cause you see, no one here cares that I have work to do or not. My boss isn’t in half the time, so I just come into the office and steal the WiFi and steal the air-conditioning and steal the coke in the fridge and make myself at home. I’m sure you’re thinking “what a great life you lead” and yeah, it’s okay I guess. I’m getting paid a decent amount of money to sit around and do nothing and that is definitely a great job to have but I sit here every day, with no work to concentrate on, thinking of ways I can escape.

Not escape this job, escape this life. It’s like having a first gen iPhone and it’s already 2014 and you decide that yeah, I need a change, a brand new start, so you go out and get a new phone, with brand new everything…that wasn’t a very good analogy. Well, I’m done with this chapter of my life, I would really like to move on. I think I’ve seen all that I can see here, I think I’ve experienced enough, I think I’ve learnt more than I can being here, so I would like to get a new life, please.

It’s not even because I’m bored of Singapore…well, that’s partly the reason, obviously. Who really likes living here? I want to leave because there’s just too much here that I want to get away from. It seems cowardly, to run away from problems, but it’s not really a problem, it’s more of the memories, the past, the people I don’t wish to see or hear about anymore. It’s quite pathetic when I reason it out with myself like how about the people that I actually like? The great thing about me is that I don’t have that many friends that I trust and would like to keep around for a while, maybe just two.

I think it’s time I do something drastic with my life. I’m too young to settle down into a job that I’m probably gonna hate in 3 years, I’m not ready to settle down and have kids, I’d rather be broke somewhere else than have a job and have to stay here.

People say I’m young and naive and that I don’t know much, that I haven’t seen much of the world to be able to judge this life for myself. Well, let me go see the world then. Let me be the one to decide what I want out of this life. I don’t want to have to constrict myself and make this life lesser than what it is really worth. I’ve been through so many stages of life and I think I’ve finally settled down into this one – where I don’t ask “what if” but I just do it. I’ve left home for 6 months and even though it was a scary thought to just drop my entire life in Singapore and pack up to start one somewhere else, I’m glad I did it. I’ve bought a plane ticket and flew off a week later because I wanted to, with no plans, not knowing what to do exactly, but I did it anyway.

I felt free being able to do whatever I wanted and you might say “realistically, you can’t do whatever you want”, but you can. You wanna quit your job and go backpack across Europe for 3 months? You can. You wanna quit that good-paying job to pursue something you love that isn’t economically stable? You can. You want to get out of that long-term relationship because it’s hurting you but you don’t because you feel like you can’t? Well, you can.

I’m only 24, don’t even know what I wanna do with my life, don’t even know what I’m gonna do tomorrow, but I’m not scared or worried cause I can make my life out to be whatever I want it to. And I know how juvenile that sounds but really, you can get the fuck out of here right this very second if you wanted to.


I’ve been sitting here for hours, trying to decide what I should write about today, but I really have nothing. Have the months of not attempting to string words together to form sentences on a blog reduced me to a heap of nothingness with no thoughts or opinions? I think it has. I feel like a less inspired person than I was a year ago…but that could be a good thing, I guess, since the only thing that spurred me on then was the surfeiting amount of negativity in my life. Is that how it works though – negativity being the driving force of thought? I mean, I am capable of thought, but not profound enough thoughts, something like “why is it called a ‘dinner party’ when it’s not really a party?” I know, I’m so thought-provoking.

I have realized that though, that I tend to express myself better when I’m down in the dumps. You should have been there when I was suicidal, I had so much depth.

Besides the fact that I’ve lost my ability of expression, I’ve been obsessing about my weight a tiny bit. A lot, because no one obsesses “a tiny bit”. I feel that if I were thinner, I would be happier, that if I’m thinner, I could love myself more. But the fact of the matter is, I don’t care, otherwise I would have addressed the matter head-on, probably go for a run or two, but I haven’t. I want to care but I can’t care that much probably because at the back of my mind I’m thinking “actually I look fine…in this angle…in this light” and that seems to be good enough for me.

And when I do actually motivate myself enough to lie down and do a sit-up, I realise that I can’t even bring myself to get up. I proceed to lie there, thinking “I’m gonna lie here for about 15 seconds then I’ll try to get up” and 15 seconds turn to 30, a minute, and when I finally realise what’s happening, it’s already the next morning and I actually have to get up to shower and go to work.

I sometimes manage about 2 or 5 sit-ups on a good day but then I get frustrated like “I’ve already done 3 sit-ups, what do you mean I’m not thin yet?”

After all that though, I must admit, I can’t be fucked to exercise, I have no willpower to drown myself in an eating disorder, and frankly, so what if I’m a little chubby? We can’t hate ourselves into a version of ourselves that we can love.