The body sees The body knows The body remembers. lub-dub, lub-dub Staccato heartbeats of whips coursing through the room Pulsating laughter, wine and chips Fists against quivering flesh I wish I could take a snapshot of everyone gathered in the far corner of the room and engrave it in me. It feels so nice to… Continue reading Orbiting in kink space.
sis told me to forget about it because they were never going to understand me and she agreed that perhaps, Mum had thought about it too how i could be so different from all of them all three sisters went to the same primary school and secondary school all of them played netball even mum… Continue reading
Dear Clay, You are the only one who can understand how hard it’s been. Since the age of 11, your little feelers started twitching whenever a parent said it‘s just a small matter; don’t think so much whenever a sister said why do you always ask me these questions? stop being so weird can? You were always… Continue reading A letter to myself.
28 December 2017. Eight or nine years on, I stand face to face with the perpetrator. “Do you remember the session we had with Ms Foo, when you told her you woke up outside of IMH and walked in?” I asked. “Yes.” “What happened after you entered IMH?” I remember, of course. You claimed to… Continue reading
Driftwood. Scorching heat of the sun. Vast, endless sea. I’m bobbing up and down quietly, listening to the waves lap against me. Ships yawn a long, low groan, and I realise that even though they’re dry and hollow, they’re not in want. Probably because they know to keep things casual. They’re listless, but they know… Continue reading Let me settle down already.
Names have been changed to protect the identities of people. Even though the names learnt are probably pseudonyms. Stepping into a new space is … Exhilarating. I’ve always liked meeting new people, but when they’re grouped in throngs at wooden tables with identical food buzzers in their hands, it’s kinda robotic and weird. They’re smiling.… Continue reading Connected with Strangers
This was written for a devised theatre workshop that I’ll be attending this Friday. My teacher told me about ether once. He said it was the substance that embodied the universe, a backdrop against which all other objects took their bearings. I remember thinking how comforting this must be, to know your place in… Continue reading Words Of My Body
Fiction is helplessly entangled with truth of some kind. Much in the same way that Orson Scott Card believes the reader takes in the fictitious material and constructs something in his mind such that he connects with it, identifies with it. And in that sense, fiction becomes reality for everyone, although everyone has different realities.… Continue reading When Love Arrived.
I have spent, and am still spending, quite a bit of time processing my molestation on 30 November 2016. I use “my” to convey ownership. A sense of taking responsibility for what has happened, much like the way one would lay out enough food and water for their pet. A more cynical analogy would be that of being… Continue reading Confidence | Arrogance
Titles are a hassle. It’s so difficult trying to come up with something that would adequately encompass whatever I’m going to write. Especially for this post – calling it childhood isn’t exactly right because there are so many things that still define me to this day. Calling it the present seems to suggest that this is… Continue reading Chapter 1, Part 1: Introduction + Confusion = Introducsion
The Viewfinder. 