I write & shoot (photographs) occasionally

Month: June, 2013

You Are Beautiful

There was once a girl. She was a sweet, kind, helpful girl, well-liked by everyone around her. I’m fat, she told me when she was thirteen. No you’re not! Stop it. And she did for a while.

I didn’t really take notice after that, and she never showed any signs, or maybe she was just hiding her feelings. I began to realise when she was fourteen, how she would stand on the weighing scale everyday. Stop weighing yourself, I would say. I finally lost some weight. I need to keep track of my weight or I’ll be fat again. And that would be all she talked about.

One day the weighing scale got damaged. Can you please send it for repair? I think I already gained 5kg because I haven’t been able to keep track of my weight! But somehow everyone was just too busy to retrieve it from the place where it was repaired, and she was going crazy.

You’re not fat, I said to her one night. You cannot let society’s standards of being thin affect you. Your BMI is average- you’re healthy, that’s the most important. You’re fine as you are. She still insisted she was fat, but I thought that at least some of what I said had gone into her head.

After that incident, we argued on one occasion, and in a fit of anger I accidentally insinuated that she was fat. She swore. You didn’t have to convince me that I’m not fat when even you think I am. You just said it! I know I’m fat. And I realised she had not believed a word I said.

And maybe it’s gone too far now. She’s gone so far that she believes that she is fat like it’s a fact of life. She has let society’s standards, the media’s standards that being thin is beautiful affect her mind, affect her judgment. She has let what people say go so far into her mind that it can never completely be erased. I can just imagine, what if she’s letting their teasing just ring in her mind?

What has happened to this world, why can’t we just be who we are? Why is it that we have let society and media has affect us so deeply for some, to the point of no return? This is our life, and we do not let anyone tell us how to live it, tell us what is right.

You, who is now reading this. You are beautiful as you are, and don’t let anyone make you believe that you’re not. Don’t let the world change who you are- you live for yourself, and by your own standards. Everything else, the crap people tell you, can be flushed down the mental drain.




I think I might need some advice. It can’t be just me because I’m positive everyone has multiple interests in various fields, so why do I feel like the more I try to chase one part of me, the more disconnected I am becoming with the other parts of me? I know this sounds really confusing, but basically the more I try to pursue a particular interest, the less in touch I get with all my other talents and interests. Is it selfish to say that I want them to keep all of them? I want them all to stay in equal amounts, and not for one to dominate the others. This is really weird as I feel that they are conflicting. One part of me is dying while the other part thrives. Not like these things are alive, but you get what I mean.

Sometimes life is just one big muddle of things. I need to clear my head.


Catch me, catch me if you can, she said, and she ran for all her life was worth. Hair flying madly in the wind, arms spread wide open as if she believed she could fly.

Then again, she believed in everything.

Left foot, right foot, left foot- an unending process, as the dust flew up around her, caught in a mini tornado of her own. This was everything she knew now, everything that mattered. She could hear the crisp rustling of the dry grass beneath her feet, feel the heat of the sun on her face as sweat began to form. Behind her she heard an uncanny silence.

She slowed and turned.

No one was there. Nothing was chasing her now.

She was playing a game of her own.

Everyone she knew was gone. She was gone.

The little girl cried in her, as she stood up, a large looming form compared to the size she once was. She had grown out of tiny blue suede shoes and pretty white frocks, grown out of playing with dolls and toys. She had grown out of believing.

She had grown up.

Wintry Woes

Set foot into the heart

Of a snow-laden wintry forest

Exhale loudly

As I watch ice crystals form in the freezing air

Smell the ice on my wintry breath

Senses frozen, numb


Snowflakes float down slowly

Entangling themselves in the sparse canopy above

Not a soul to be seen for miles of pristine whiteness

A lonely set of footsteps trod on

Very soon lost in the winter storm


Flashes come back to me

In the presence of this winter wonderland

My favourite season of four

Was it yours too?

I never saw


Making snow angels on the soft cold ground

Laughter unbroken by echoes of resounding silence aftermore

We danced madly in the snow

Warm amid the cold

Tiptoed precariously across frozen ponds

Safe way across called for a victory song


Not the same fate for you, dear

As I mutely lost you to freezing waters

And melted snow

In the blizzard of emotions no sorrow to fear

I sat there

Helpless, alone


Icy winds echo my pain

Whipping against my face searingly

The seas call your name

As the currents push you all places

But back home

I look for you in wild raging waters

In gentle expanding circles released by a stone’s throw


Bury my heart in roaring avalanches

As teardrops freeze to icicles mid-air

Give me a frozen heart of stone, I pray


So I will never be hurt again




Blood Rose

I saw him chuck the rose into a clear vase

Teeming with putrid waters

Leaving the poor flower to drown in pools of poison

Watching it all the same

Closely, intently, patiently

As the toxin made its way into the rose’s system

And made its presence very pronounced, indeed


Oh, crimson rose of the loveliest blush

Started to inherit a deeper, darker pallor

I saw the sadistic glint in his eyes

As he carefully picked up the flower, blood red


The rose was dead


He drove his car out that night

And I knew where he was headed

Poisoned bloody rose in hand

How prominent his undying affection

How crazed his loveless being


He left the rose on her doorstep

Coupled with a lovely little note

A poem, a spell, or a forewarning, might I say?

Release me from the grip of your heart

Let my mind and soul run free again

For my life you hold no regard

But I will not let my love be in vain


From a hidden corner

He watched

Closely, intently, patiently

As the poison set in

Yet again

But this time the traces would be left unseen


Game over, he said

From he whom you never loved





I see a world

Driven by poverty

By circumstances

To start a flame

To watch a spark ignite

Well aware of the consequences

Long before the entire forest lights


The lantern festivals when they were young

A vague, faraway memory

Watching entire streets dotted with glory and radiance

It whispers to them now

As they relive it again

Acres of forest burn to ashes

Reflected in their eyes

Back where everything was

Before anything started


They stand there in silence

As ashes and dust dance in the dim light

Remembering better days so far away

Yet being unable to


The wind is a strong being

Invincible in its might

The ashes scatter

And settle

Follow where the wind goes

It leads them through continents


I see the bustling metropolis that once was

Living a mystical nightmare

Engulfed in layers of impenetrable haze

Masked in a shroud

Masked in its people


I see the despair and helplessness of those who burn

Them who watched a million trees die before their eyes

By their hand

Those who looked upon the woods in the aftermath

Seeing charred trunks and the irregular stumps that remain

Crumble into dust 

Feeding the soil

The ravenous, hungry earth

As it grows into life after death

Father’s Day

The little boy trotted along some distance behind his father, in an unfocused, trance-like walk perhaps only little kids would understand. In the crowded shopping mall, tens of people brushed past. The man turned around and gestured to his son, trying to catch his attention. Come here, the movement of his hands said. It was then that i noticed they were wearing the same shirt. A large and a mini version of the same adorable monster with huge teeth bared, not in any way menacing. A large and a mini zipper ran down the middle of a large and a mini shirt respectively. It was too cute to miss.

Happy Father’s Day to all the daddies out there, and though your children might not want to wear the same shirt as you anymore, their love is no less.


Beneath bleached cloudy skies

I lay down a single white flower

Symbolism unbounded

Step back and ponder



All the good in a lifetime

But only brief encounters on my part

Enough to sustain

It has been carved in my mind to last


I imagine you must be walking

Through emerald meadows now

Warm breeze gently urging forward

On the road to a better place

Beautiful white dress gently stirring up dust from the ground

I remember how you loved to doll up when you were here


Grass blades rustle in tandem with delicate silk petticoats

Wet not with clear dewdrops that dot the earth


Our father calls from above

And you wave, smiling

With the kindest eyes I ever saw

Step into his heavenly radiance

As alluring melodies fill the air

The angels have come to take you home

Wandering Minds

Has anyone ever wondered how dreams can feel so real, yet be so fake? As in, we can dream about the weirdest and the most random things, and when we are in our dreams, that is the absolute reality. But when we wake up, we laugh and tell ourselves that something like that will never happen. How can we experience two opposite ends of the reality spectrum at the same time?

For me, I think I sometimes mix up memories with dreams. When I try to recall something old, there is this dreamlike quality to it, because it has been buried far too deep to remain crystal clear. I end up with this scene in my head, unsure of whether it was a scene from a past dream, or something that really happened. Maybe when we think of our dreams too much, they probe their way into our memories of reality and the dividing line is blurred.

I also wonder about how our minds can be so awake when our bodies are dead beat. How are our minds so active in our slumber? In the day, we worry about lots of things, and have many issues on our minds. Do they remain in our minds when our bodies rest, and appear in the warped form of an imagined scene thought up by our heads? I sometimes marvel at my mind’s creativity through the ridiculous dreams that come to life when I’m asleep. Our minds could be the most innovative scriptwriters for comedies there ever were! Just think about some of the most ridiculously hilarious dreams you’ve had, and you’ll know what I mean.

Dreamers unite!

You can know a …

You can know a person in a day, but you can spend a lifetime with a person and never really know him.

Is it cheesy that I encountered this quote in some drama? But the instant I heard it I had a “This is the truth of life” moment. Perhaps I’m not old enough to have experienced life a lot, but this just struck me as plain truth.

Why is it that we can get to know some people so easily, but with others we can spend so much time with them and yet realise we never really understood them? And why is it that we can open up so easily to some people, but with others, there just exists this mental barrier where we do not wish to divulge too much personal information? Is this all a matter of trust?

Sometimes I find it sad to know that my supposed “good” friends are people I don’t even know. We can talk so much about everything under the sun, but in the end what information do we take home about their character, their personality? Is it not pointless to know so much about someone’s favourite brand, their favourite celebrity, their favourite food, and in the end know nothing about them? I guess this is another one of my train of thoughts that lead me nowhere, just blasting questions down and getting little answers back. More possibilities than answers, always. If curiosity killed the cat, I hope to at least find some answers before I am killed, since curiosity cannot be stopped anyway. I plead my mind to stop churning up weird jokes and dry humour before I am labelled a weirdo. But really.

Maybe it’s just me, since I am someone who would rather have one friend whom I deeply understand than one million random “hi-bye” friends. I like understanding people, as I have discovered.

And maybe it’s fate. We just click with some people more than with others. Different personalities fit together with different personalities, and some puzzle pieces just don’t fit together. But I believe that all of us will find that perfect fit, in the best case scenario that we can spend a lifetime with a person, growing to understand him or her more deeply each day.