The tale of two beauties.

There used to be two flowers that grew under a big oak tree just across the open field that stretched from my little cottage. These two flowers were of the rarest kinds. They grew flower petals that were the colour of the sunset – yellow, purple, pink, orange – all blended into a colour of hope, wonder and ecstacy. They were so magnificent that you can spot them straight from the windows of my cottage. They were the two beauties of the valley. They existed as one.

On the Friday of the third week of November, I noticed something different. I didn’t know how long it has been that another flower grew between the two beauties. From far away, that flower was as striking as the two but the colour of the petals were different – they were a mixture of red, blue and a tint of purple here and there. The mixture summed up  essences of bold, strong and mysterious all into one.

I was so used to gazing upon the two flowers that now, with a third one sprouting out of nowhere let alone being in between the two, the view was odd. The combination of colours of the three flowers were somehow not in balance. A number of days had passed when one day, I decided to walk across the field towards the big oak tree. Upon reaching, I noticed the most peculiar thing.

One of the beauties and the bold one had produced a new offspring just next to them. It was exquisite. It grew into a colour of rainbow – fun, quirky and lively. It was such a lovely view to witness at that time that I had completely forgotten about the other flower. When I turned my head, I saw it. The other flower had wilted. Its once before colours were drained out from the petals and it has lost every ounce of life in it.

It was gone.

The thing is, it didn’t fit into the picture anymore. It’s existence was overcast by the shadows of the bold one. It no longer belonged and it never will. It will never be the same again because time has changed everything. They will never exist as one anymore.

Thing is, you can’t change what time does on you whether you like it or not. But what you can do is to adapt. You may not be one person’s priority anymore and you may not be able to be as close anymore but that’s okay. You can adapt. We’re humans. It’s in our nature.


It has been..

so long since my last post. I’ve been dying to update my blog but I was just too busy. I just started my first degree not too long ago (September) and ever since, life has been throwing lemons at me from every angle. Dentistry is one really tough course where classes start at 8am and finishes at 6pm everyday with lunch breaks in between which only last for about 45 minutes. We have seven subjects, minus the compulsory subjects by the university with which I think are not even the slightest bit important, covered for dentistry. Anatomy, physiology, biochemistry, microbiology, pathology, pharmacology and oral biology. These subjects are to be taught to us until the second year of our course. The biggest challenge actually is the limited time for us to study everything. Every chapter for every subject is taught for every hour – one whole chapter per hour, everyday. Don’t matter how short that chapter is or how freaking long it is, you still need to complete the whole thing in an hour. Then by the time you come home, you have dinner, do the laundry, do some assignments, you’ll already be dead tired. You want to revise but then you’re only able to revise for ONE subject – or half at least. Saturdays and Sundays are supposed to be for chilling out and to catch up on subjects that weren’t revised, right? Wrong. Apparently, Saturdays are occupied for co-curriculum activities every week and Sundays are sometimes occupied for extra activities held by either the faculty or the university itself.

However, despite having such a hectic schedule when it only has been two months when I first started, I kinda enjoy it. I mean, I do get stressed out and start ranting and all but then I’m really passionate about what I’m taking. Dentistry has been my first choice since, well, not too long ago – it was when I first got my braces… last year. I remember being so clueless about what I wanted to pursue. Mom and dad were both telling me to go for Pharmacy which I simply complied because all I was thinking about was to complete my foundation in science and take up any degree to start a living. I knew I didn’t like pharmacy but I didn’t know what else to do. Then one day, I went to get my braces done. As the dentist was trying to put the braces on me, it hit me right then and there that, I want to be a dentist. Passion is the only thing that’s keeping me going. Of course this doesn’t only apply to me but to everyone out there. When you have the passion for something, you’re able to do anything. Passion, sheer hard work, creativity, confidence and a little bit of luck.


As We Are

The Not Me

Carrie spoke through narrow lips that looked like they were sewn on too tightly. She had the gravelly voice of a lifetime smoker, but her trembly tone and hesitant nature made her barely audible. She seldom talked to people during the support group, and if she did she never peered directly into anyone’s eyes. She usually sat near a corner of the room, always making sure to face the only door leading in or out.


Carrie was petite and jittery. The pale foundation she slathered on her cheeks and the thick black lines she drew under her eyes did not conceal her frailty. Her dry, bleached-blonde hair tapered sharply just below her shoulders. It hung in solid-looking clumps that, like the rest of her, seemed as brittle as icicles.

Carrie usually dressed in snug, almost colorless acid-washed jeans and plain, baggy, crew neck sweatshirts in creamy tones of pastel pink or yellow. In all those faint colors, she sometimes appeared as…

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Love from First Grade and Prison

Everyone needs to be reminded that they are always loved.

Not a Day Over 45

As I was grading papers this afternoon, I found an artfully decorated love note on the back of an assignment.

“Dear Ava,

I really really like you. You have pretty eyes. You have some hair and a nice family. I have a friend and her name is Ava.

Love, Rogan”

My heart melted. What a beautiful expression of love. Years ago, in a whole other life, I worked as a paralegal in a law office. As I was clearing out some old files, I found a collection of also artfully decorated love letters. From prison.

“Dear Tammy,

I love you. I am still in prison. Thanks to you, you f@&#ing bitch. I need $20 for cigarettes. Come see me. And bring me $20. For cigarettes.

Love, Wayne”

My heart melted. What a beautiful expression of love. Of cigarettes.

All this thinking about love notes made me yearn for one from…

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Feeling : Crappier than the crappiest crap.

There are a million ways to console a person who’s been under the weather lately. You see a little boy cry because his friends doesn’t want to include him in their little game – you give him a lollipop so he’d feel better; you see your friend’s family member attending their mother’s funeral – you offer her a hug to give her assurance; you see your best friend slowly losing herself as she drowns herself with self-loathing and her insecurities – you remind her why she’s so special and how lucky you are to have her as your best friend.

What you DON’T do is to want to make things worst than it already is. Empathy and sincerity are the two essential factors one needs to include if he or she is to want to console someone else. You don’t go around and compare yourself to their situation – like, “You know, you should be grateful that you don’t have to go through all the shit I’ve gone through because I’ve had worst than you,”. Yeah, for some people, this ‘technique’ works. Believe me, it works on me too sometimes. But what if every time you face a problem and you let it all out, your problem gets compared to again; so you’re telling me what I’m going through now is nothing compared to yours, and that I’m foolish and weak to go through what I’m going through? That I don’t deserve to feel this way sometimes? So what if I haven’t gotten it as bad as you? I have a right to feel sad too, don’t I? Why can’t you just empathize with me and just listen to the whole story first before coming to a conclusion? If you don’t have the sincerity to want to console me, please don’t stick around in the first place.

For the people that are simply amazing at being AMAZING, thank you. You know exactly all the right words to say because you empathize. You console someone with sincerity, patience and wisdom. You are the light at the end of the tunnel. You are that blink of hope when I look up at the night sky glittered with stars.

We deserve to feel sad too sometimes. We may not have a death sentence or a parent dying, but we all have our own stories to tell. Of course, we choose what makes us sad but sometimes even the strongest person needs to feel that emptiness and sadness once in awhile, and all they might want is for someone to just listen, understand and acknowledge.

My promise.

I remember the first day I saw you cry. I was four at the time and was busy arranging my toys in front of the television. It was a quiet day as the Telly was switched off and all I heard was my tiny footsteps trudging around the house and the sound of your voice. You and I were minding our own agenda that time and suddenly you received a phone call. You went to pick it up. I guess I wasn’t paying that much attention to anything else other than my toys. But then, I started to hear sobbing – you. The conversation, I did not understand and I forgot ( Again, I was four ), was getting more and more intense – so was your sobbing. Tears came pouring out all so sudden that I stopped what I was doing. I stood there and watched you cry. I sort of knew at the time that you definitely weren’t crying over toys so I knew it had to be something really serious. I remember myself trying to listen to the other end of the phone, wondering WHO was making you cry… I heard his voice. I didn’t know what daddy said that made you so hurt until you just cried in front of this little four year old who, of course, got so frightened and worried and confused at the same time. You hung up and continued crying and talking to yourself. It made me really scared because I knew a person I love made another person I love cry. I didn’t know what to do so all I did was just went over to you, gave you a hug and we both cried together. I asked you why you were crying but all you said was, “It’s all daddy’s fault.” I didn’t see you cry anymore after that time. As the years slowly go by, little did I know I was already twelve. This time, when Mom cried, I knew why. Dad was having an affair. My father, who I trusted so much, had an affair with someone just ten years older than me. Someone just old enough to be my freaking sister. Mom came home from work one day and just burst through the door, crying. She headed straight for their room and locked herself up. Dad found a spare key to their room and went in. I stood outside their door, trying very hard to listen to what they were saying. I cried when Mom brought up ‘divorce’. I didn’t want to end up with a broken family like some of my friends. I also didn’t want my younger brother who was only four that time, see his dad leave his family. So I did my best in reassuring and comforting my mom day and night after that day. I became her only best friend; the only one who silently knew everything, keeping things normal at home. I also became my dad’s rock. He was so close to falling but I stood by him, despite the hurt I felt whenever I look at him, to make sure he didn’t; to make sure he would stand up again and save his family. I went to school acting as if everything was alright. For a couple of times, I actually believed that everything WAS normal whenever I’m at school. But the moment it was time for me to go home, reality knocks itself right at me to remind me that everything was nothing but okay. It took me almost two years to hold my family together. I have never regretted all my efforts because things are much better now. Today, I saw you almost cry. And this time, it was my fault. It was me who wasn’t strong enough to withhold my frustration that I just lashed out on you. You didn’t deserve those hurtful words I’ve said. I didn’t mean any of them. And I didn’t purposely scratch your arm. Seeing you almost close to tears just now, reminded me of everything once more. You’ve gone through a lot with your troubled past and our almost broken-up family. It hit me that I too do not have too much time left with you because soon, I’d have to leave you again for further studies. It breaks my heart to see you cry; I never ever want to see you cry again. This, I silently promise to myself.