Marry The Night: The Prelude Pathétique

"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."

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Yayasan Khazanah: First & Second Stage

Undeniably, scholarships and I tend to have rather... complicated relationships. The first one I applied for (and a quite prestigious one for heaven's sake) didn't qualify because reckless little me missed out one of the application procedures. I'm still beating myself up for that. And then there was Taylor's Principal Awards where I was awarded with 10 thousand MYR worth of tuition wee waiver for selected Pre-University Courses. Considering my current financial abilities, I turned it down because as honoured as I am to be holding a TPA, the remaining uncovered fees (not to mention living costs) were still far from what my family could afford. I didn't get the PETRONAS scholarship, neither did I make it to the 3rd stage of Yayasan Khazanah (YK). I say, failures are a sign of you're getting closer to what you want, so let's rejoice. Back to where I started, I was about to write about what I've learned during the interview processes of YK - Stag...

Irony

...and this has me written all over it.

Of heartbreaks and the unknown

Moon's high, light's low. I'm sitting in my bed and thinking. About things. I've been doing a lot of sitting and thinking lately. Almost all the time my mind wanders off into space, and my heart starts sinking deeper and deeper into a void. This void, this blackness of a cavern. Funny enough, I know what it is and where it came from. I ask myself the same question everyday, over and over, until it hurts to even mentally mouth the words: Why am I here in this messed up world? What have I done (or not done) to be forced to internalise so much pain and injustice? How can people live as though they belong when they've done so many others wrong? And most importantly, am I overthinking this yet again? There was a point in time where I had so much hope in me my eyes gleamed. My blood burned bright red and my veins lit up like fireworks. Every single day, I felt like an infinite surge of electricity was coursing through me and that anything that I touched woul...

Don't Blink 2.0

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