Don't Blink 2.0

"When I look back on my life, it's not that I don't want to see things exactly as they happened. It's just that I prefer to remember them in an artistic way. And truthfully, the lie of it all is much more honest because I invented it. Clinical psychology tells us arguably that trauma is the ultimate killer. Memories are not recycled like atoms and particles in Quantum Physics, they can be lost forever. It's sort of like my past is an unfinished painting, and as the artist of that painting, I must fill in all the ugly holes and make it beautiful again. It's not that I've been dishonest, it's just that I loathe reality."

I have came down to the point where I am so bored that I decided to blog about the one thing I couldn't care any less about: Politics. On second thought, boredom might not be the reason at all, because everything that has been happening around doubtlessly stirs riot across the country, it's not strange that even I am starting to keep up with the news. I admit I don't know politics much  at all, and I'm definitely in no place to define who's politically right or wrong, but all I know is I see how badly intoxicated the politicians are by the fear of being defeated. And I have to say, these undying news updates are surprisingly riveting, so I guess it's a pretty good start for a layman like me to get to know politics, thanks to GE13.  Come to think of it, studying History has it's perks. Remember Dato Onn Jaafar? He was one of my favourite politicians to read about in the subject, simply because I think he's a natural leader and not to mention a rar

From my old blog:  We shouldn't worry about anything at all, because everything will fall into place in the end no matter what happens. Things are going to work out for us. If it doesn't, we'll just have to hold on and bear with it for a while. All we need is patience, and the ability to stay calm. Changing my mindset automatically brings forth my life to a new level. And I realized it's all about feeling comfortable in your own skin, feeling truly confident about yourself but not to overreact when praises are given. Not to be beaten up by criticism and sarcasm, either. I'm a walking example of how our emotions channel our daily lives and choices we make and how we react on matters. Since it worked on me, I'm sure everyone's day could be brighter if they would choose be more optimistic, because recently all I see are rants and pointless laments floating around my computer screen. Come on people, life's brief candle. If you don't live it now you&#

The last thing I need is my old self back, but unfortunately some things in life are unavoidable. I'm trying the best that I can to cheer myself up after the nonsensical fight, but you just keep dragging me into depression. What did I do to deserve this?  Sheesh, I warned you not to fucking trigger my switch. And all of a sudden lines that I've long forgotten like "I hate myself so much" , "I wish I could just die and forget everything" and "Someone kill me please" are pushing their way out of my subconscious mind again. That side of me, that I've kept dormant for almost a year, is gradually resurfacing. I'm on the verge of destruction once again, just like old times. I can feel the heat building up, from my lungs to my throat and up to my head I might just blow off. My mind is a mess, I can't think straight and I hate it. I'm losing my rationality all because I care too much.  I've always hated crying. The only

Greek Mythology (I can't imagine what I'd do without it) Perfectionism Worrying over puny things Chocolate and peanut butter Jodi Picoult Crammed schedules Sarcastic jokes. Oops. Singing

From my old blog:    What is self-compassion? What does it mean exactly? Self-compassion entails three core components. First, it requires self-kindness , that we be gentle and understanding with ourselves rather than harshly critical and judgmental. Second, it requires recognition of our common humanity , feeling connected with others in the experience of life rather than feeling isolated and alienated by our suffering. Third, it requires mindfulness —that we hold our experience in balanced awareness, rather than ignoring our pain or exaggerating it. We must achieve and combine these three essential elements in order to be truly self-compassionate. This means that unlike self-esteem, the good feelings of self-compassion do not depend on being special and above average, or on meeting ideal goals. Instead, they come from caring about ourselves—fragile and imperfect yet magnificent as we are. Rather than pitting ourselves against other people in an endless compa

From my old blog: The human mind is a scary place. And even I can't get into my own thoughts. I sense something wrong, but I don't know what it is. There isn't a symptom or anything blatant that categorizes the feeling. Beneath billions of wrinkles and neurons, lurks something so unfathomable I'm intimidated by myself. I'm caged in a corpse, a body that is not mine, with an estranged soul. So, what has become of me? Ever have the feeling that your brain is replaced by thousands of inflated balloons, each and every one constantly expanding at the same time? And in those balloons, instead of helium gas, are screams echoing out from nowhere. Mindless, pointless screams piercing through your skull trying to break free into thin air. They fly around like asteroids, colliding with each other.  I'm really afraid. But of what? I'm not sure myself. There are times like this, when I feel like a wimp, because my dreams always seemed almost impossible

From my old blog: This will not be a negative post. I am feeling very, very poetic and nostalgic. When was my first blog post? I wonder, if I were to read back on everything that I've ever written - will I be laughing at the end? Or will I be utterly disgusted by my lack of maturity and constant emotional flip outs back then? If it weren't for the vast blogosphere, my languages would not have been as powerful as they are now. But perhaps 'powerful' isn't the most suitable word, they're only decent, I guess. My days in high school are numbered. I thought I would feel upset but I was so wrong, because excitement and delight is all I feel at this very moment. I don't think I'll have any regrets leaving the school. This year was indeed my best year. Each day granted me an opportunity to grow and learn and become a better person. Though mistakes are still inevitable. Apparently the downsides of life has taught me to always be optimistic. A

 Then-  What's done is done. I will never forget that mini heart attack I got when I saw the asterisk beside my name, how my fingers trembled when I was asked to leave a signature. It could have been my imagination, but every anticipating stare from the crowd cut through my skin like daggers. In those mere seconds before receiving my results I have pictured disappointed faces, eyes that couldn't bear to look at me for one last time, but they might have been mine because I had put my hopes up too high. Murphy's Law existed for a reason. And sometimes I just hope people would just shut up and understand instead of exclaiming, 'I don't even know what you're worried about!' . Why wouldn't I be worried? I spewed forth extravagant promises, only to realize then that I don't give enough to deserve what I hoped for. I was about to have a taste of my own sick perfectionism. So I'll be blaming my high expectations, as always.  Then again, even the