When that one day comes that everyday I wake up to a view, the horizon dividing the fluffs in the vivid blue skies, and the ocean, whose waves hit the shores where every evening, my feet tingle in the sand, sea shells and starfish aplenty, leaving footprints behind me.

And when dusk approaches, the rays shine beautifully through my window where sometimes, I chill my freshly baked pies while I sip on a glass of red… I would smile my biggest, as if I have tasted the best wine, baked the best pies, and have a priceless view that I will never get bored of capturing it with my camera, paint what I see on canvas, or write about all its glory with my pen and paper.

One day.

Today at work, I realized that I had been wearing my name tag differently. It was not worn wrongly but I just always wore it my way, just like every other staff.

Upon corrected by one of my colleagues, my supervisor laughed her loudest and called me ‘stupid’. So, not wearing my name tag like how you wear yours is ‘stupid’?

"Do you know why you are wearing your name tag wrongly? Because you are stupid!" Oh, what a logical reason.

It would have been only natural for me to feel hurt and so angry that I would feel like I want to burst. But I did not feel any of that. I smiled but after a while, my smile faded when my supervisor continuously laughed at me and called me ‘stupid’, like I swear out of Duncan from Blue’s life that she was that crude at the moment, what’s more in public.

"God, you are really so stupid!" Yes, yes. Say it louder for everyone else besides the staff to hear. Go on, I dare you.

I replied, "You were always supervising me for the past three weeks. I guess it only takes a moron to supervise someone else to become stupid like you. Luckily I have a mind of my own or else I would become stupid like you. It’s just a name tag. Get over it."

Next thing I knew, all of my colleagues burst out in laughter and my supervisor’s face changed. Suddenly, the situation was not too funny to her anymore.

Then I walked away to continue with my work as if I gave a single shit.

What a swell day it was. At least I was not fired. I was going to leave in a week anyway.

“Can we stop waiting

for the life we want to live,

and live it instead?”

It will forever mean something to me after one fine night. It is about me, the things and people that have left me emotional scars; things that I have painfully learn from but to forget them is almost impossible. I cannot get any more sombre moments.

It reminds me of both the wrong and right decisions that I have made. It reminds me that I am and forever will be strong enough to face and fight anything.

I cannot keep this song to myself even if I wanted to. Perhaps one day, I will say more of this song.

I suddenly miss my late uncle.

Right now, I could picture him facing his laptop by his study table, and the TV switched on for news. I could picture my aunt bringing his lunch to him, my dad seated right in front of him while my mom would help my aunt in the kitchen.

Then there would be me. A rebellious and angry teenager who had just a few more years before turning 18, seating opposite of where the adults hang, listening to the men’s conversations in Teochew while I mind my own business scribbling and writing in my notebook or looking through the photos in my camera. Or I would run into my cousin’s empty room to play her piano.

After, my aunt would walk in on me playing Ann’s piano while she would place some snacks for me.

When everyone else would disappear and leave my uncle be by his study table, I would take the seat opposite him where my dad would always sit and I would always talk to him about America. All he would do was smile and say, "Very good".

He was a man of little words, and it is funny how I miss his silence. Despite his silence, he had such a strong character.


Nek minit when five women come to me for help at the same time: WHERE DID THIS INFLUX OF VAGINAS COME FROM!

Today, I saw a little boy strolling his newly bought hot pink trolley bag with Barbie’s face hugely imprinted right in the middle. He seemed really excited and didn’t seem to give a single shit. His parents were right behind him, apparently not giving a shit that their little boy was strolling a brand new hot pink Barbie trolley bag around a crowded place.

Maybe he was excited to give it to his sister, if he had one. Or maybe he was just excited that he had his first trolley bag, regardless of its color or design. Or just maybe that he was excited to celebrate himself with that trolley bag, regardless of orientation. And his parents walking behind him did not give a shit as long as he was happy.

" Forgive me for being bitter. I went through a lot. "

I was running as fast as I could; nearly out of breath, I panted away. I wanted to stop but he was after me. I could never stop.

I did not look back but hearing the sinister laugh assured me that he was not too far away. I already felt defeated but I was still running for dear life like I could outrun him. No matter how loud my cries were for help, it was all in vain. It was this endless maze I was running that no matter how I tried to get lost, he was always behind me laughing sinisterly.

"Oh Debra, you just would not give up."

Suddenly, I just stopped running. I felt this excruciating pain. It was as if something sharp went through my abdomen. I looked down and I was standing in my own pool of blood. These happened after a loud bang. It sounded more cunning than any ordinary handgun. It sounded like a rifle. The Winchester Carbine to be exact. It was as if I was being hunted down.

I turned my head to look behind me, something I was sure would be the last thing I would ever see in these last few moments of my life.

He was wearing a mask, and had indeed pull the trigger to end my life.

"I am death. Your life ends here. Besides, I saw nothing but hopelessness in you. Goodbye Debra. May people actually remember you, or at least try to forget you."

Death took away my last horrible thoughts of life, and the grudges I could never really bring myself to let go. And death ended my life by pulling the trigger once more. He was the last I saw, and the excruciating pain that pierced me from the first trigger was the last I felt, and the strong odor of death was the last I smelt, and my last words were, "Shoot this bitch", and followed by the loud bang, which was the last I heard.

Suddenly… I woke up in cold sweat. It was a bad dream.

Back to reality…

" It burns like fire… this burning desire that I have. "