the death march commences on march

the synchronizing footsteps make a consistent beat on the tar road.

she’s in the crowd, sticking out like a sore thumb. her footsteps are offbeat compared to the rest. nonetheless everyone else moves along with the tick-tock of the clock. they march as the seconds past.

they sync with time. 

she’s trapped, but she has to move on to avoid being trampled on. she has to take wider strides to keep up. the energy continuously drains out from her soul. the pressure rises in her.

she just has to catch up.

the snow has melted two weeks back and the bits of green take a peek of the sun. spring time is soon —but everyone knows: March marks the beginning of the plague.

so even though her left leg moves first when everyone else’s moves their right, even though she’s gasping for air because she’s almost out of breath, she simply has to move to the beat of the clock’s pendulum (for time waits for no one).

she feels like she will fail. that darkness and fear will engulf her and hold her back. but she will not lean on her own understanding; she will put her trust in the Light that will lead her the way.

she will not lose the race. she will not lose the fight.

she will strive forward with the help of this Light.

death march commences on march because tests and exams and pressure and stress are here and lol this is really really an awful time for me. i honestly thought college will be okay but clearly it is not okay??? idk anymore i have a pass or fail test tomorrow and a bio assessment in less than 48 hours and five (yes FIVE, one per subject) assessments next week??????? honestly i don’t know whether i can cope with this but really everything is in His hands and i’ll trust Him but selfishly hope everything will go good according to my way when it’s supposed to be His way (we just can’t be perfect, can we?) lol im babbling nonsense as usual idk idk idk goodnight everyone. i don’t think i’ll ever be active in 2018 because of c o l l e g e. so much for being excited for it months back. 


this is me
and I accept that this is who I am
but I will improve
I will do better
I will change

Sometimes I just want to say: This is who I am! Deal with me for who I am! Tolerate or leave!

Oh honey, we live in a world that goes by giving and taking. Give and take. Give and take. Give and take. It’s so hard to keep on choosing to love, to keep on sacrificing yourself by bearing me with your mouth sewn shut.

I will improve.

I will try to remember to think before I act. I will try to be more considerate. Try to choose the words to say. Try to tolerate. Try this, try that, try—

I keep using the word try because I know I will fail. That’s what humans tend to do.

But they don’t tend to be failures.  A slip up shouldn’t stop me from becoming better.

First of all, I will accept.

The one full of flaws: selfish, prideful, judgemental, and many many more. The one who hates being pitied. The one who runs away from people who seem intimidating. The one who gets riled up when people don’t comply with her expectations. The one who remains passive when she disagrees, bottling up her negative emotions until it slowly adds up, more and more and more and more and more and—

I will do better, I promise myself this.

I will change.

Twenty seventeen is another year of darkness in between the rays of sunshine as well as another footstep in my journey of self-discovery.

There were some firsts, like getting my driver’s license and a part-time job. There were lasts as well, such as facing my final year of high school and attending my last year of a three-year-cycle camp.

Overall I am rather glad, I achieved things that made me jump over the moon. However, I hate using the typical Christian-teen phrase that goes “all glory to God!” when this year I haven’t been fully living like one.

Nonetheless, I’ll cut to the chase:
    #1 My (and the rest of the students’) geography results were cancelled because of a mishap did by the school, not the students. I was really pissed at the school and the Cambridge rules (because they should charge the school, not the students) because that subject held a potential A+ for me. However, when I got my results. I actually had an A+ and—

    #2 I did surprisingly well when I felt like I did horribly on my final exams. I was so so so worried and also angry because of the cancellation of my geography paper results. Before the release of my results, I, a seventeen-year-old-to-be, acted like seven-year-old instead and wrote a long letter to God filled with profanities. It wasn’t my idea, but a youth advisor told me that “God already knows how you feel, just write it. You’ll feel good.” And I did and it felt darn good. When I received my results that day, I wasn’t even like “all glory to You!!!” but more of “Wow God, You actually gave into me!” and simply went on with my old ways.

I failed terribly this year. Backslidden to the gates of hell for not doing devotion and threatening God to give me what I want. At least…I’m being honest, it’s better than being a hypocrite.

I’ll do better.

There are crazy times, too crazy until sadistic memes became truly relatable. Crap happens, and that’s usually the crap I cannot control. It takes a little bit more time and lots of patience to let it seep into my life until it becomes permanent. It’s personal, still personal now, but I’m ready to admit that this what I have —and I am happy for them. I really am.

In twenty seventeen I found that the biggest tearjerker of my life is self-pity. It is a dark abyss which is so difficult for me to climb out of. That’s the reason why I detest people pitying me; it brings me to sympathize with my own self and it’s horribly unhealthy. My only solution is to get my mind off it right away, but it’s good to cry it all out once in a while.

Just once in a while.

What I’m worried about in twenty eighteen is a plethora of things. Academics is my number one concern for now and I don’t think I can handle failure too well in college. Instead of hoping things will turn out well, I hope that I can manage things when they don’t turn out like how I want them to be. 

I guess this is the last post of the year. Thank you to my friends and followers for reading the ultimate trash post of twenty seventeen despite my deterioration in my level of English (I haven’t gone to school for six months. I didn’t read a lot of books either. Oops.)

I’ll do better. Cheers to the new year.
abigail t.

dreaming of the impossible

Is it possible for love to be distributed so equally?
Human’s imperfection fails to make things just
I’ve already foreseen this, yet you told me no
You will not forsake me like the other did so
But it has happened and will happen again
To interrupt your happy world I’ll refrain
Time is up, let’s face it –you do not care
Your love for me diminishes in the air
I will search for a place called home
A spare room or my lover’s arms
As long they’re willing to love
As long they’re eager to care
Except here in everywhere,
I’ll go places high and low
So that I learn and grow
I won’t be coming back
By then my love lacks
To you who stopped
And have brought
Disinterest, woe
Enkindling the
& sorrows.


taking first steps (again)

There it is, peering into the hole where I lifelessly lay.

It haunts me every time. Like a panther, stealthily creeping behind me, pouncing out of the blue. Like an odd stubborn shadow that would stay even in the dark, waiting to pull me back into my old long nightmare.

When I thought I was a little bit better after those months of recovery, I came crashing back into this pit instead. Too foolish to think that I was strong to fight through it, to adapt to sudden changes, to live as though life was merely the same. Now here I am, buried in dirt mixed with my own tears.

However all these were just exaggerations that come out from a torn heart, worn soul, and a crafty mind. Hurt. Back at this again. Travelling back into the painful incident months ago where the wounds were still fresh. Perhaps these wounds were deep cuts, or lashes, or straightforward stabs –but no. Sticks and stones may break my bones, but a loved one’s horrid choices will always hurt and haunt me.

Though current affairs may not cause much harm, any minute thing can turn to a painful devilish reminder. Again I am back to square one, restarting my journey

—after this long rest (of course). Where I sleep for a long time, wishing to dream of sweet things, and secretly hoping to be a stronger person after my slumber.


as it is

what else is there to explain about love?
why bring science into such a beautiful thing?
emotions, expressions, deeds —compassion
love is love
there’s no other explanation
let it be as it is


the discovery

If I were to go back in time at that young age I once was, would I answer yes again?

No, maybe not —not yet.

But it was in that spark of that moment (where I was fifteen for a few months) I had to say yes. Still with a mind of a growing child, and eyes that held innocence so pure. I have not seen all horrors of the world and not learn entirely how the world works.

Clearly, I wasn’t ready.

And yet, I answered yes.

Just by an awkward hug he have given nights ago and a tub of popcorn shared in the darkness, my emotions stirred and I swayed. The flutter of my heart. The falters in my voice. The fantasy in my head. Fifteen-year-old me thought she was in love.

She wasn’t.

Infatuation, I call it now. It has come and go like the wind when there’s a presence of every charming wonder. It is that sudden pull. A sudden attraction. A crush.

Love —as I learned over the months after I said yes— was much more than a flurry of feelings. It was when disagreements were no longer unavoidable, I started to realise that it’s more than just give and take. Sometimes, to love, is to do something you do not like, like wasting your cellular data just to listen to his favourite genre: heavy EDM. And watching the links to uninteresting videos he sends. And bearing the wait for him to come back from his busy, packed day. And also shattering your pride to apologise first. And also trying to mild my jealousy and stop myself from shooting daggers at every girl he meets.

Love is something I am learning, and will continue to learn.

But if I were to go back in time at that young age I once was, would I answer yes again?

There’s nothing much I can gain from this question for I cannot go back to past and change the decision I had made. I only can do two things now in this current time:

  1. Kill it off with pesticide.
  2. Take responsibility of my actions, and make the best out of it.

Because honestly, I don’t think I regret my fifteen-year-old made choice at all. I was young, silly, and rash and at this moment I am still young, still silly, and (I hope) much less rash. Although in that first few months we connected was more of buzzing excitement, I eventually grew to love.

I have to admit, however, I have not explore every crevice of the globe and mankind. Hence, to have someone much older (like an adult) reading this would made me cower in embarrassment. Humble apologies adults young and old, I may not know what love love is, for I still have umpteen things to discover.

Actually I frown upon teenage dating. I still do. I admit that most of us are immature and want to quickly find a companion for all the wrong reasons. My case is not an exclusion, I was possessed by my emotions. I wanted to be in that ecstasy quick. It was like signing up for a three month long sugar rush. Then you get diabetes and suffer from it.

In a nutshell, I can’t find a proper conclusion to sum off this manure I wrote. Everything is so hypocritical I apologize. I don’t know what will happen in the future, but I believe things will go well if proper responsibility is taken by the two parties and ten thousand truckloads full of patience.

Relationships, like almost everything else, are neither black nor white but grey. They make you happy but they also depress you, because heads up, you are making yourself vulnerable to the other, not to mention that you have ability to hurt them too. Only you yourself know that you are ready, and if you aren’t, are you willing to bear the consequences?

For in the end I wish that the union of two people will be fruitful as they start a new beginning together called marriage. Perhaps in this era this is considered a ‘close minded’ opinion, but I hope my wish applies to you all as well.






silent struggles

lips sewn shut, pursed into a solemn smile
as disagreements form silently in the head
for the harmony between two individuals is
more important than this Passive’s opinion

yet beware of those who speak their minds
they strip off the Passives’ dignity with pride
braver Passives fight back for the first time
but most still remain in their passive state

this battle now created inside their hearts
whether to defend or remain to persevere
it is a vicious cycle that keeps on running
only to be stopped by Passives themselves