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
28 January 2017. The day for resurrection has come. Yesterday night, a beast was clawing its way out of my chest. It sunk its teeth into my windpipe as I tried to bury it under more layers of I don’t care and This should not and will not affect me and I am stronger than… Continue reading The Giving Tree.
Keep the good memories then, but remember: they are over. The good ol’ days will never come back. The bad ones, well — (scribbling on a piece of paper before shredding it, smiling) They are past The point of hurting Me, now.