maybe one day I’ll get there, maybe not so soon, but maybe one day I will


“And one night, it began to snow outside. I remember my nurses complaining about driving through it. And there was no window in my room, but it was great to just imagine it coming down all sticky. Next day, one of my nurses smuggled in a snowball for me. She brought it in to the unit. I cannot tell you the rapture I felt holding that in my hand, and the coldness dripping onto my burning skin; the miracle of it all, the fascination as I watched it melt and turn into water. In that moment, just being any part of this planet in this universe mattered more to me than whether I lived or died. That little snowball packed all the inspiration I needed to both try to live and be okay if I did not. In a hospital, that’s a stolen moment.

“Over Zen Hospice’s nearly 30 years, we’ve learned much more from our residents in subtle detail. Little things aren’t so little. Take Janette. She finds it harder to breathe one day to the next due to ALS. Well, guess what? She wants to start smoking again — and French cigarettes, if you please. Not out of some self-destructive bent, but to feel her lungs filled while she has them. Priorities change. Or Kate — she just wants to know her dog Austin is lying at the foot of her bed, his cold muzzle against her dry skin, instead of more chemotherapy coursing through her veins — she’s done that. Sensuous, aesthetic gratification, where in a moment, in an instant, we are rewarded for just being. So much of it comes down to loving our time by way of the senses, by way of the body — the very thing doing the living and the dying.

Parts of me died early on, and that’s something we can all say one way or another. I got to redesign my life around this fact, and I tell you it has been a liberation to realize you can always find a shock of beauty or meaning in what life you have left, like that snowball lasting for a perfect moment, all the while melting away. If we love such moments ferociously, then maybe we can learn to live well — not in spite of death, but because of it. Let death be what takes us, not lack of imagination.”


“It is naive to assume positive intentions of gossip however innocent it may seem. If you truly care for a person’s well-being, confront the person and discuss the issues with them directly; preferably face-to-face. Gossip is toxic to any relationship and gossipers are cowards scared to voice their opinion to the individual concerned.”


I lost my shit with the team today and I feel really fucking stressed and I’m starting to see less and less reason to continue staying tolerant to all the bullshit people give me and if going back to how I was like in secondary school means not letting people take advantage of me then idm


And I just need to remind myself that I find nothing more beautiful than people who actively fight through depression

Because I know that it is okay to be broken

And there will never be anyone who will experience it the way you do, and pull through it to become just as beautiful as you


I found out about this girl in school

There was this one day I was in the void deck chilling with Edna. She sat opposite me, ranting about some of her problems and such. Then Jovita chanced upon us (apparently she was in the same Physics class as Edna last year) and asked if she could sit with us. We were like, sure, so she plopped herself right beside Edna and we just chit-chatted about life in general for quite some time. Somewhere along the conversation we started talking about how Jovita managed to convince Edna to join maniAC a while back, so she conveniently invited me to join too, saying that maniAC could do with more members.

Well. Writing has always helped me articulate and think through stuff in so much more detail than usual, and it’s something I enjoy doing. Especially when I need to get shit off my head. And especially on nights like these. So why not do it on an online college blog eh? I said ok.

Jovita started explaining a bit of how maniAC works. I was genuinely interested, and I was honestly thinking about how this may just be great practice if I were to ever get into journalism. 

Sometime later, this girl came over with a laptop displaying an excel sheet with a list of maniAC members, telling Jovita to update the list when Edna and I were to be confirmed as members (or something). I had rarely noticed her in school, but she turned out to be the maniAC vice-president. She was decent-looking – kempt hair, a little bit of acne between her brows. She had these mysterious double-eyelid eyes, a cute nose and pale-coloured lips. And she kind of caught my attention in a way no other girl ever did.

But it wasn’t an infatuation or anything.

She sat down on the bench beside me. She picked her feet up and sat in a cross-legged position facing directly at me, tapping away on her laptop gently placed on the bench between herself and I.

We continued the conversation a little while, and when she talked, I couldn’t help but notice how a light smile always managed to reveal her pretty teeth. She spoke, but I can’t remember how she sounded or what she said. After a while, she left to return to her original place at a corner to continue working on her laptop.

I don’t know why. The small encounter just left me especially curious as to what her personality was like.

She followed me on Instagram about a day or two later.

I didn’t know it was her. Neither her username nor her instagram name revealed who the account belonged to. I only found out it was her by asking Edna, who happened to be following it. I requested a followback and was rejected the very same day. “Because she didnt know you well,” according to Edna. I happened to be playing league with Joshua, and I asked him,

“What does it mean if someone follows you but rejects your follow request”

He answered expertly, “Stalk uh”

Uhhuhhh. She had a lot of people she was following and a noticeably select few followers. She reminded me of past me.

I just got more and more curious about her as the week went by. What’s with the whole thing?

I asked about her and heard things like, “I think she may be depressed”, “Just follow. Shes nice!”

And I finally decided to follow her again. This time I messaged her,


“Can I be your friend”

In which she warned “Sure but this account is a bit of spam tho”, “but i post weird stuff so u cant snitch okay”, “HAHAH but i usually archive my posts after a while idk” before finally accepting me into her account

Needless to say, I immediately went to read through all the posts that were unarchived after I was accepted, and while I felt that it was rather strange to be so readily accepted into a private account venting about frustrations and writing about possibly more sensitive issues of her life even though I barely knew her, she gave me a comforting vibe that really reminded me of…me. Or at least, past me.