where'd you go?

i miss you so.

seems like its been forever

that you've been gone.









trying hard. fucking hard.

nephews: let's go up to ah zhor house to play games!


cousin's grandma to nephews: next time you can't call it 'ah zhor house'. you have to call it 'sar yi po house'. ah zhor is gone.









byebye waipor.

byebye.

byebye granny.


i'm already missing you.



a lot.




hammering coffins shut is fucking cruel.

she's back in hospital again.


this time, she's in pain.

lunch in bed.


romantic?


but when the only reason why lunch has to be brought to you is if you dont have the energy to walk to the dining table to have your lunch?




not exactly romantic.

Grandma's most prominent tumor is so fucking big.

its about the size of a tennis ball.

on her neck.

its so growing so big that it stretches the skin over it to breaking point.

there has been a wound on it for some time now.

normally my uncle tends to it.


today, when i was removing the dressing over it before Grandma's bath.

i nearly tore her delicate skin.

when i lifted the gauze,

it stuck to the open wound.

gingerly, i peeled it open.

wincing as if i could feel her pain.

and kept asking her if she felt it, which she denied.

i saw that the wound was already about the size of a ten cent coin.

under the skin,

with an appearance of white, the colour of innocence





i came face to face with Grandma's murderer.




words can't express how i feel right now.

i tell people, not because i want sympathy

i tell people, not because i want attention

i tell people, not because i want compassion





i tell people, because i want them to be sensitive.






you use it in your daily language, but you dont know how it stabs.

something so casually spoken of, so often exploited in fiction for its impact.











yet so fucking real to me now.

emo shit.


turning my back on love.