You and I, walk a fragile line

Back to the late 90s, when I was just a small boy with messy black hair and round-framed glasses, I only had one sort of blank but still with a tinge of emotion yet not so expressive face, wtf; whether waking up to a floor stained with shiny red blood dripping down from my younger sister's chopped off tiny finger, or coming back from school seeing my grandma sleeping in a coffin right in the middle of my house, with her lipstick on, which I thought was weird that time.

My mum said I enjoyed my own bubble a little too much, I think that's true.
While my sisters were fighting for a stupid dress for their Barbie, which happened all the time, the 4 years old me just sat there, carefully leaning my square chalkboard against the wall, arranging all my colourful chalks on a piece of newspaper and started doodling.
Sometimes I wondered why are my sisters talking to a piece of plastic, then I turned to the other side looking at my mum cutting and sewing different shades of clothes, I was happy to continue playing with my chalks.

Until one day when I successfully drew a rabbit, and the next day a cinderella, my parent's friends suggested them to register their little boy to painting class, but my parent never did. They had a bigger plan for me, their boy shouldn't be spending time with colour.

In high school, I wrote beautiful essay and lyrics. On the graduation day, my teacher told me that I could have a bright future in literature. Words were my best friend, they understand me so well they can translate my invisible thoughts into something I can read, a history, and so I wanted to be a journalist and learn music.
But my parents had a bigger plan for me, and I wasn't strong enough to say what I wanted to say. THAT, will always be a shame that I'll never be able to wash off.

Today, I can officially say this out loud, there is only one more exam standing in between being a dentist and a dream, my parent's dream.
But the time is here, two days away from 24 years old, I should really spend more time penning my life from here. The line should be drawn, not to fence them outside, but to include myself in.

For starter, a tattoo would be nice.

(Probably some of you may say, getting a tattoo doesn't mean you're a grown up. Well silly, do me a favour, hold your fist right in front of you, parallel to your Frankfurt horizontal plane, and stick out your glorious middle finger,and tell me you feel much better now)

On a Tuesday. Another New Year.

After closing down my blog impulsively in a lonely night, I spent the last few months discovering and reorganizing the visceral regeneration of my...forces.
(from Thought Catalogue mostly,like this piece of mind blowing artice :
http://thoughtcatalog.com/2012/you-need-to-go-after-the-things-you-want/)

Because I needed that.
Because I am a dramatic person.
Because when my life began to take shape in some ways, when people saw me as someone who was “doing great,” I felt the need to go off script for a moment.


Take a deep breath, look into the mirror, I see a shy relationship, an unceremonious break up, unscathed emotional arsonist, and colourful mistakes.

They are stories worth telling, it's just that I am not brave enough to go through the excision and risk it all.

Bottles of the rosé smell like Dolce and Gabbana

Deflation.
Exam is THAAAT exhausting, it sucks so much out from you but do you realize it gives you a lot in return too?

 

 

For the past 2 weeks I spent my every waking hours with friends, making smart conversation, telling embarrassing stories from the past, exchanging the vision of future, like how we are gonna mermaid-fy ourselves in the pool when exam is over.
And it's amusing to see your classmates plucking their hair out because they don't know if they should choose A over B, but C sounds like a correct answer too. C is a bitch.
You know some of them will be with you if you make a mistake. Especially when you scolded yourself for squandering your study time on FB, then you see a few friends of yours updated their statuses. *huuuuuuh,I'm not the only one.

Unlike those despair moment in clinic, you screw your ass over and you'll be there standing alone, covering your face from the dashing pieces of cruelty with one hand, wiping your tears with another hand.

A message from friend when I lost my head in the hills of notes, saying you can do it, this is what exam gave me.
A caring friend helped me to collect my lost memory of clinical features of submucosal fibrosis when I forgot about them, this is what exam gave me.
A friend called me out for fancy dinner amidst apexogenesis and apexification when I didn't have time for my clamouring stomach, this is what exam gave me.

Here is a tip for you if you have exam anytime soon,
DRESS UP NICELY!
Because in case you don't know the answer,
-looking good but stupid, it's 21th century;
-but looking like shit and stupid, the world will abandon you, I kid you not.

Never lose both at the same time, you can't afford that.

A good song is a good song

Simple like that.



I like how every song I listen to has a different part of me in it; I accidentally wired my feeling into the music, every now and then those familiar scent of feeling just pop out whenever I try to immobilise my fractured focus on hundred pages of words.
Too distracted to concentrate.

To fall in love in the city

Falu Red
I walk into the world map
try to dance with shine and glare
but you smudge my unfinished moves
with the stranger's stare

Gamboge
I breath so deep
just to whisper
my wishful thinking
into your folded skin

Fluorescent grey
I refuse your drunken sex
here is my brush
so paint me the shoes
to tiptoe back to my magic map

A poem for my heart

Because they will hunt it down
Want to see the blood red
drip
lick
fade

So I penned them a song
without lyrics

There is where I hide

Waiting for my individualism to shine

As a faithful procrastinator, I live up to my spirit. I gave this shit a go while trying to align all the dysplastic epithelial cells in a more socially acceptable form.

It's EXTREMELY true, I am quite independent of social relationships and very self-reliant.
"You therefore often give others the impression that you are arrogant or snobby - especially because you do not hesitate to speak your mind with your often harsh (even if justified) criticism and your imperturbable self-confidence."
Couldn't agree more mate!

I work alone. When I was in high school I always grabbed the group project firmly in my fists because I didn't think other members can write or draw better than I do. They can just sit back and watch me.
I publicly retorted command from my team captain because I didn't want to join the marching troop under the unbearable weather at 3pm. "You can do what you like but my dad never plan to spend this much money on me so that I can march like a soldier", then I walked out of the field.

When I joined BDS, I met so many awesome people I let them do the job while I sit back to watch.
May be I simply don't care about all those things anymore, I concentrate on my individual happiness, like my single room, my postcards, my drawing.
Having supper with bunch of people still irritates me much. They share stories of how other people screw up their life, laugh at long sentences (it will be too cruel and mean if i name them "joke"), and I can't remember the rest, I always zone out.

Lying on the water and staring into the blue dimension, it's my favourite moment in swimming pool. I don't want to know the disaster in clinic nor the new girlfriend of my classmate.
We're so caught up with the wrong passion. We basically don't feel anything anymore. When we're free we lay back and watch somebody else's emotion,and make them ours. Or pretend they are ours.

Please, be you, be the best version of you.