My Memory Project: Part 1

My Memory Project: Part 1

I recall:

Lunchtimes spent with Sandra and Eugenia in Room 9 or 13. Doing homework, studying, ranting. Complaining about the J1s then. Talking about you-know-who.

Always trying to find people to share the papadums with because they come in packets of two. Chicken tenders from the Malay store, which we got upset they stopped selling. Potatoes with cheese. Baked rice from the western store. Calling straight red tea “curved red tea” or “gay red tea”. Milo ice-creams. Eating from the chicken rice store because nobody buys from there so there isn’t a queue. Iced milo. We don’t really like eating in the canteen.

Odette walking to the TG table. Throws her green (new balance?) bag on the table, which I recall she got as her 17th birthday present. Generally the TG don’t really talk to each other in the morning but how would I know, I’m always late anyway. Plus I was quite absent the last few months of school because I had, umm, other concerns ( I now see another possibility of my memory loss: the fact that a lot of my school life was about you-know-who and I am not the kind to wallow in rejection, so getting over him effectively wiped away all my memories of him i.e memories of school.)

Alright, that’s enough for today. It’s getting a little bit hard, the blankness is setting in again.


My memory project

My memory project

A couple of incidents that occurred recently really scared me. I am not sure for what purpose exactly but I was trying to recall my economics tuition teacher’s name, when I realised I really cannot. It’s just gone, despite so many months of being with her, of texting her. Only after several months did I finally manage to recall her name, from a (recalled) image of her contact in my phone. The next incident scared me even more. I was trying to text my JC economics teacher, when I couldn’t. It was only after forcing myself to think, to actually think, did I remember that his name is Kelvin, and not Kevin. It was ridiculous that I could not remember his name, for he wrote my recommendation letter and anyone who knows me from school knows that I am obsessed with finding out details about his life.

How could I forget? How could I forget these details, when they have always been a big part of my life? I really feel like I’m floating, living in a another world, and I get this weird distant feeling of déjà vu when I step into the school. I feel a little piece of me come back somehow, but it’s not complete; it’s almost as if I’m on autopilot and my whole yes-I-remember-everyone-and-everything falls away when I really sit down to think: do I?

Some days, I feel like I’m losing my memory. I love cracking this joke, “IB is like childbirth: the process is painful, the end fruitful and you forget everything after it”. It’s really true for me, and I am half-afraid that it is due to the degeneration of my brain. However, inspecting the pattern of my memory lapses, it seems like I am forgetting everything about economics, as the econs final exam brought me a lot of pain. If I think really hard, I recall being driven to tears because I was so tensed up for the exam that I couldn’t remember what I’ve studied. I remember crying my heart out because I ended up having so little time to do the questions. I remember always tearing up at random times in December, because I was positive my IB score would be less than 40 and it hurt me knowing that my predicted was near 44/45 but I wasn’t able to perform well for the exam. I think (and sincerely hope) it’s my brain’s way to forget the trauma by first forgetting associative memory: teachers, classmates, events.

So I’m embarking on this little project. I already find it a bit easier to recall things as I write this post and I am forced to actually think, think about what has happened. For the next few weeks, I will attempt to recall major events in my life. It’s not necessary, but the blankness and the desperation of trying to recall my life scares me.



Thoughts on a Wednesday evening

Thoughts on a Wednesday evening

Rarely do I make a post as informal/colloquial as this, but tonight’s an exception. Call it gushing. Call it whatever you want. I’m kind of confused myself so whatever.

Honestly I thought with Visanne I would have 0 libido. After all, it’s a hormone suppressor. And for a month or so I completely stopped having crushes, stopped feeling a gush of excitement and exhilaration every time I talk to/see someone hot.

So I’m really confused now. I was kind of happy that my meds would suppress my hormones as I find my fleeting feelings for other people a great distraction. Like, there’s so much to do and so little time; I definitely do not have the time to be infatuated with another person.

Then, I saw him. I used to scoff at the idea of “love at first sight”; it’s not wrong to do that, but LUST at first sight is very much real. I suppose it’s because I knew getting a relationship before finishing IBs was not allowed so I never viewed guys around me with the intention of picking out a mate (with an exception of 1-2 guys, but I’ve completely moved on); now that I am free to do whatever I want, I’ve been noticing the physical aspect of REAL PEOPLE a lot more lately. Like the general vibe, the smile, all that. And this has led to the whole discovery of physical attraction (which I am starting to understand). Anyway, back to my point, I saw this guy on Instagram who currently studies at UCL, and now I am really attracted. I think he’s 1 year older than me (starting his undergrad year 3 next year). He’s not even THAT good-looking, objectively speaking, but it’s something about his slightly tanned Hawaiian looks that really gets me. That slightly cheeky grin. The fact that he plays a racquet sport (not going to reveal which lest he chances upon this post which is pretty much impossible but still there’s a risk), comes from Eton (boy, I would love to date an Etonian/Harrovian/Westminister kid. Not an elitist, it’s just that it would be nice to date someone brought up as a gentleman), and is half (what I presume is) Chinese (which means he won’t think that my asian heritage would dilute his bloodline). Yet, I know nothing about him. Like, literally nothing. I’m trying to tap my UCL contacts to see if anyone knows him. I desperately need his horoscope. I will definitely update this post once I find out. (Geez, did I just dedicate a post to a random guy I find physically attractive) UPDATE: We are not horoscopally compatible romantically. Using my superior deduction skills (and research skills), he must be either a Virgo/Libra, both of which are not natural romantic matches. Which means given my mediocre looks, he is unlikely to be attracted to my personality.

Sadly, with crushes comes the whole inferiority complex thing which I’m not going to delve into because 1) I’ve already done so in a previous post and 2) It’s just a feeling like nags me; delving into it will force me to inspect my insecurities even more closely which makes me feel worse about myself. Keep this post lighthearted, yeah?

I’m also a bit disappointed to not have started learning tennis earlier (always wanted to learn it but parents felt it would make me bulk up) as now I feel too insecure to join the tennis club (hint hint hint) and to make friends with tennis players and join their socials and stuff. It’s tough man; sometimes I feel it’s much easier to join the chocolate/environmental/harry potter/women in finance society but joining a sport is important. And I really love WATCHING sports so I think only in a sports club will I find people with the same passion for sports as I have (i.e real madrid fans)

I’m gonna stop here tonight. Friends reading this, I’m really sorry but if I’m still infatuated with him the next time we meet, you might get a phone shoved under your face.









of my soul


Broken into pieces

Threatening to break.





under my bed

haunting me.

I want to say “I won’t break”.

A pat on the shoulder and everything’s alright

But it’s not true

I’m tired of holding myself together.

I’m tired of seeing how happy other people are.

Tired of being let down.




My thoughts are in a mess

Forget “equilibrium”, how precarious it is.

Easily tipped, like a glass of water

I’m tired of stress

Tired of tears.

Tired of anger.


Of feelings


Tired of being affected by the little things.


F*** life, sometimes I don’t want to live anymore.

It’s a thought that just washes over you, a sudden motivation, drive, to not exist.

A thought that comes too easily, too frequently, too enticingly.

But it’s a thought that doesn’t hold water, thank God for rationality that tells me what I’m thinking is completely nonsensical.

I’m putting this picture here, to remind myself if these thoughts drop by again.


I can’t just give up because someone made me upset. Even if they make me feel useless, make me feel used, make me feel like there’s always a dark cloud hanging by.

So f****** tired of everything. Maybe tomorrow will be better.





Deleting all social media except for WeChat as it’s a communication tool for me. I need time away from it all.





The Pill

The Pill

Two months ago, I started taking the pill. Not just any pill, but THE pill.

After 2 packs of Mercilon, I cannot more acutely feel women’s frustration at their partners’ insistence on the pill instead of other contraceptive methods. While contraception is not relevant to me, I understand what women go through when they take the pill.

As I write, I am lying on my bed, trying to ignore the waves of nausea. The pill is not just any pill. It’s one that got me crouched in a fetal position yesterday, repeating to myself “oh my God, oh my God” because I really did not know how to handle the nausea. It’s one that forces me to take an antacid every time I take the pill because my stomach complains if I don’t. It’s one that makes me double up in pain from cramps when I forget to take it.

I repeat, the pill is not just a pill. Don’t ever, ever think that the pill is the best contraceptive method because it only requires swallowing a little white pill. Its effects are more far-reaching than that: Nausea, Weight gain and a decreased interest in anything romantic in general. It’s not fair to place the burden of contraception of women because women have to suffer a lot due to it. It’s not fair that women are only the ones suffering.  Contraception should be the responsibility of both parties.

For me, I’m on the pill because I get painful periods. There, I’ve said it. I’ve always felt a bit shy about saying things like that (due to society’s socialisation that such things should not be revealed), but I realised that the reason I’ve been mistreated and belittled over the years due to cramps is the lack of knowledge of the extent of period pain among people, especially those who are male and sometimes females who have never experienced cramps. That’s why I have to speak out, to let people know that cramps can be very painful. You don’t know what I’ve been through. You don’t know I’ve spent thousands of dollars to this day trying to treat cramps. You’ve never seen me lying on the couch sobbing my eyes out because I’ve maxed out my painkillers and don’t know what else to do to deal with the pain. You don’t know my desperation when I become tolerant to yet another painkiller. You don’t know how many marks I’ve lost because I was so uncomfortable during the exam that I couldn’t concentrate on the exam. You’ve never felt it, so I’m telling you now. This is how much it hurts. It affects my life, and it stops me from attending class and other fun activities. I’ve sacrificed so much; I no longer eat ice-cream or drink anything cold in general because they say it makes it hurt more. Boy, I don’t know when was the last time I ate fruits other than bananas and avocados, as everything else seems “chilly” in nature.

Some girls suffer as much as me. Not all girls, but some. We have problems, but the doctor can’t detect them. So until then, we suffer. Stop suggesting exercise. Obviously I’ve tried it before. Don’t go “all girls have it, what makes you special?” Or “does it mean I have to excuse all girls from activities if I excuse you?”. You know what? Yes. Because we can’t help suffering, so cut us some slack. We don’t want it, but we can’t help it. And if you are a girl, I know sometimes you are inclined to disregard and belittle another girl’s pain because you think you know what she is going through and don’t think much of it (whilst using yourself as a basis of comparison). Trust me, if you haven’t had really bad cramps before, you have no idea what we are going through. 

It’s not easy, I know. It’s not easy to imagine the pain and the nausea. But it’s easy to show a little kindness and a little kindness is all we need to make life feel much better. 




My life is finally in equilibrium.

I feel settled. Calm. I no longer worry about things I cannot control, like boyfriends and just people around me in general.

I feel refreshed. Hopeful. I see the world with brighter eyes. I no longer fear the emptiness of time and of life itself. I see it filled with interesting activities—learning italian, french, russian, spanish, chemistry, history, chilling with friends—that make me more excited about life.

I am no longer bothered by non-response. I’ve reached a stage where I no longer care. It’s a good thing. I carry on with what I do in my life, regardless of people around me. And I try not to think too much about things. These are after all, things I cannot control.

As I scroll through facebook, I see pictures of couples, and those yearning to be part of one posting articles about love. Luurrr-ve. I no longer care. I used to be so scared of being unable to find a mate. Now that I have more things to do, I find it easier to focus on myself and not on my potential relationships with others. It’s alright if I don’t have someone, my time can be spent meaningfully too. I don’t get heartache when I see celebrities like Paulo Dybala. I appreciate their beauty and leave it at that. After all, we can only marry 1 person. A profession in law is as noble and interesting as one in medicine and one in football. Being a footballer is a profession. Becoming a wag is just marrying someone who works in football and it will just be like marrying a lawyer or a doctor or a teacher or a HR manager. Maybe a footballer will have a better body but then they are not the only people who work out in the world. It’s important to learn to separate a person from his/her profession. All this time, I was in love with the profession, and not the person.

I’m also taking it slow because I know deep down in my heart, I haven’t met anyone whom I really want. It’s difficult. Maybe it will be easier when I go to UCL. The thing is, I love a lot of things like classical music and european languages and literature and history. And I need someone who makes my interests seem meaningful. Language learners, have you ever thought: after learning so many languages, wouldn’t ending up with a completely “regular” person with little interest outside of work…seem kind of empty/meaningless? It’s ok to wait. Being settled in life means to accept that patience in finding someone is important and not equating a mate with meaning.

It’s great to be finally in equilibrium.

(Changing my theme into a lighter one and my font into a softer one because life seems brighter and lighter now)