It's an awful feeling worming inside of me tonight.

What makes you happy?

Here's what makes me happy.

There's Jerome Mak. He plays L4D and CS with me and we laugh so hysterically and the world seems to revolve around us. He laughs like a girl and sings like an angel. He shrieks in my face in the wee hours of the morning to wake me up. He is born on the same day as me and he was my twin until he became my boyfriend. He's the man who's actually my best friend and my better half. He makes up for the flaws that I possess and that's good. He is everything I am and yet he's everything I'm not. He forces me to baby talk the way he does and it's cute. He plays the piano. He plays the guitar even better. He fixes the toothpaste on my toothbrush and realises it's the wrong toothbrush he fixed the toothpaste on, and that's sweet. He's so remarkably adorable that I find myself unknowingly gazing at him. He loves bubble tea without pearls so that just makes it tea. He grins with wry wrinkles and he looks so beautiful that way. He is my unintended love, and it's perfect that way.

There's Mummy and June. They get so corny, and it makes me happy. They shop like retards and it's endearing. They bitch at me and it's the way kinship is. They stand by me through lal the years of my life and I'm thankful. They debate on life and love and money with me and that's the way communication ought to be. For everything they are, it makes me happy and I thank God for all of that.

There's Daddy, the man who has loved me the most and at the same time hurt me the most (having the ability to). He has saved my sorry ass whenever I got into trouble. He has raised me silently and showed me a paternal instinct of a love so unconditional, it brings me shame to scorn him for the unruly things he do. He is the most filial son I have ever known, and with pride for him I am happy. He loves me and I am happy.

There are friends like Desmond, Dana, Alex and Andy. They stick around whenever they are needed the most and I'm happy. They are brutally honest. That makes them friends and for that I am happy. They may not always be around as much as close friends should be but they are always around when we need each other and for that I am happy too. They help alleviate my burdens and I am happy.

There are the little things in life like the daily dosage of coffee, the cocoa solace I seek, the little pooch loitering within the radius of three metres, the bills that get paid, the refuge of a bed I turn to rain or shine, the music that soothes my heavy heart, and that makes me happy.

I have no savoured happiness the way I should have for that I am wretched. But my eyes now see and my heart now feels, happiness within contentment and I hope it can be shared.

So what makes you happy? I'd like to know.

Splendour of an afternoon, beautiful people, perfect company and a good 164 pictures for nostalgia's keepsake.









































Definitely more to come.

You may very well be the best decision made by far. So let it shine and let it rain. I'm brave enough to weather it with you. This time, I'm certain I'm not alone.

Thank you, for loving me.

It's four in the middle towards dawn and the issue of accountability keeps my consciousness at its brink. FML.

Don't you think we oughta know by now, don't you think we oughta learn somehow.

So much ruin. So many shatters of home, scattered over our ground and our hearts.

I gave up everything just to love you. I'd give it all. I'd give for us. Give anything but I won't give up.

I pray so hard that Zaki will someday love June the way she loves him. He probably hasn't got a clue that she's still so in love with him. I pray that Jerome and I will work out for the best.

God, please grant me strength. As wretched as I am, please don't forsake me.

The bad dreams have ceased to let hauntings retake their place.

The odds are what I have, delicate in my hands. The odds are that I have found someone who loves me as much as I do him. There isn't a measure of comparison about depth or expression, because there isn't a lacking in that. It is no longer a story of a unrequited chase or the fairytale of a courtship.

He dedicates my favourite song to me and remembers my ringing tones. He cooks the best meal for me and tells me that mine's better (although we both know it really doesn't matter). He watches my favourite movie with me and liked it. He sneaks to the kitchen to grab my home-baked cookies while watching my favourite movie. He browses through all my childhood photographs and giggles like a kid. He plays my piano and makes me sing and takes over the singing everytime I forget the words to the songs. He appreciates me and I am happy.

So if anyone should feel anything about us, I'll tell everyone that it is in nobody's place and within nobody's rights (and in fact, futile), to feel anything other than well wishes. Because for one, we are exclusively and mutually happy. And that's all that needs to matter.

I have left a past so traumatic behind, so have you. So why haven't the rest, who are irrelavant? What is officially marked as a break up, leave it alone.

It felt like a decade ago, strolling the malls and picking out the cheapest bargains with Mummy. It felt like I belonged to a family that would never separate. It felt like utter contentment bringing Mummy to new coffee haunts and Japanese restaurants. I imagined myself in the same scenario a decade from now, except that a husband and a kid would be sprawling around vying for my eye-watch, and it was a pleasant thought. I knew I'd miss these moments someday when I missed it as it happened today. I remember her standing in front of my father's raised palms, I remember her taking every toll upon herself when my father shirked his sensibilities, I remember her teaching me values, and I know she has brought me up unlike any other mother has brought up her daughter. Age is encircling the overall package of the dominant parent of my heriditary, but I'll forever be there to be her walking stick and to yellow (and gray) with her.

Among all the people in my horizon's spectrums, I know that this woman will be the only one I'll love all my life. My soul and my heart knows no boundaries to her. And this woman, is one who cradled me in her womb and shielded me unconditionally, and guided me towards God's righteousness, and nursed every fragment of my broken heart that all the foreign lovers have jabbed and caused to bleed. This saint of a woman, is my mother.

It's hard to tell her how much eternal love and gratitude I hold for her, but may actions do the louder talk. Sometimes, the love so often unspoken, shows multitudes more. So yes, may actions be my vows fulfilled and may God lead me hereupon.

Angels and devils.

Fighting the demons will take time. Will take time.

Alas, a boy that believes that communication is the soul to a relationship, a boy that has desserts after main course, a boy who shares the exact birth date as me, a boy that plays the piano and a boy that brings out buried aspirations in me. All's good. All's well. Maybe happiness isn't too far-fetched this time round. Maybe two wounded hearts that intercept can heal and patch up one another. I can only pray.

God will guide us.

Lying here with you
Listening to the rain
Smiling just to see the smile upon your face
These are the moments I thank God that I'm alive
These are the moments I'll remember all my life
I found all I've waited for
And I could not ask for more
Looking in your eyes
Seeing all I need
Everything you are is everything to me
These are the moments
I know heaven must exist
These are the moments I know all I need is this
I have all I've waited for
And I could not ask for more

I could not ask for more than this time together
I could not ask for more than this time with you
Every prayer has been answered
Every dream I have's come true
And right here in this moment is right where I'm meant to be
Here with you here with me

These are the moments I thank God that I'm alive
These are the moments I'll remember all my life
I've got all I've waited for
And I could not ask for more

I could not ask for more than the love you give me
'Coz it's all I've waited for
And I could not ask for more
I could not ask for more

I think of you everytime I hear this.

Exquisite traditional Peranakan food inserted with a western salad mixed with foreign vegetables, a fulfilling bowl of peanut dumplings ahboling soup and just witnessing the silly kitten at home down a rubber band out of curiousity - life's peculiar in a predicted manner now that a tummyache's setting in.

There is nothing that summons any intricate and lustre musings from what can be afforded to be served on a platter of vulnerability. Maybe someday, this page that you click into would be a mere memory, just like all others.

I've got no claim on anything now. And suddenly, sadness has made its nightly visit.

Know the ones that you ought to hurt, and know the ones that earn the right to hurt you.

Regardless of how happy a song is written to be made, there are lyrics that imply sadness. Some call this adulthood. Some call this the process of being jaded with reality. Some call this the practicality of a human being's defense mechanism. I call these choices.

"It's the smell of burnt toast. You made the toast. You looked forward to it. You even enjoyed making it, but it burned. What were you doing? Was it your fault? It doesn't matter anymore. You opened the window but only the very top layer of the smell goes away. The rest remains around you. You change your clothes but its in your hair. It's on the think skin on the tops of your hand. And in the morning, it's still there."

The sight of engraved nostalgia welled sore in the deepest recesses that have been buried. Silenced was the only unintended keeper to outline the facades of the chitter-chatter. Indecision and decisions; a fine line separating them and the utmost difficulty differentiating between either. Around me, there are pasted smiles everywhere and my fingers cannot begin to lift to paint an apt description. Your name is becoming a little to irreversibly etched in what I cannot control to think of. "Bittersweet" doesn't necessarily need to be the only word that best literates what was supposed to make people happy living beings. We have evolved jaded, and for which rhyme or reason? The intercept whereby lovers become spiritedly stronger without one another as a limb, as respiratory required to vitally breathe, a seed that was planted to stop growing.

To date, I have but made poor choices to remain drowning in the sorrow of many history pages of yesterdays. Melancholy has turned into a familiar prick in the back that I can't reach to eradicate but I am fruitlessly trying. I've been trying for such a long time coming that I don't even know if my kind of trying is actually defined as trying.

The littlest things in this God-created world are the greatest things that can happen to anyone in the other childlike-forgotten world. We're all slow dancing in our own burning rooms. Please stay, and dance with me. We'll repeat this same sad song and remember happiness and may that joy derived from nostalgia, take us back in time to the childlike-forgotten world.

The table's a little neater. The ashtray's a little emptier. The music's a little more subtle, that it numbs the sounds of coherent breathing. The shoutings are a little kinder. The outlook of life's a little brighter. The coffee's a little sweeter. The night's a little darker. The morning's a little earlier. My heart's a little stronger. My love's a little stranger. The ashtray's getting a little fuller. The phone's getting a little silent. The coffee's getting a little colder. Confusion's getting a little wiser. The music's getting a little futile. The ambiguity's getting a little harsher. The home's getting a little foreign. It's getting a little too foreign. It's getting foreign. Love's getting a little frightening. It's getting frightening. Home is getting a little frightening. Home is foreign. Love's getting a little too foreign. Love is foreign.

Confusion is playing a wise game. My musing is tangling a strange manipulation so unkind. The shoutings are frightening. My heart's getting too cold.

It's all about the wordplay.