child, that’s not love

breathe in, breathe out
suck in all the nervousness
gather all the anxiety
then release them out

the heart beats a little faster
cheeks turning pink, no —scarlet
he’s here! he’s here

breathe in, breathe out

but that’s not love
these are merely feelings
a liking; an attraction
the excitement, the anticipation
these will fade
they will

because love is not a feeling
it is —instead— a choice
on whether you’re willing
to be committed (for a lifetime)
to be vulnerable (to hurt and pain)
to sacrifice (money, time, so much more)
for this person you dearly like

things go well at the beginning
thinking that this responsibility is easy
oh so wrong, so so wrong
not even two steps ahead of the starting line
and we say something so foolish
we laugh at our innocence in the future

it’s a liking, an attraction
this is simply an infatuation
whether reciprocated, it will fade
it will

trust me —i’ve been there
i was once just like you
(and they were once just like me)




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.

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.






the battle within you

dashing into the trees of the dense forest
running away from the world and its tremors
succumbed into your doubts and insecurities
as you broke the ice, plunging into the water

where were you when she needed you the most?
in the middle of a tangled mess you have made
crouched in a corner, shielded from the world
but the problem has always been within you
no point of fleeing -it follows you without fail

break down your walls, breathe in humility
mend your broken heart with forgiveness
start gathering your guts and fix things
it takes two to clap

(and she can’t do much more)



all that matters

It works this way; some have it better than others. Period.

Some were naturally born with a silver spoon in their mouths. Some could crawl through the crevices of the world with a mask that shields their true personality –and actually succeed. Some simply have the universe on their side all the time.

It seems this way to the rest of us; injustice being the antagonist of our lives.

Some are struggling to make ends meet. Some who gave their all but never got appreciated. Some who tripped and stumbled and are simply tired to fall again.


Quit the generic answers like ‘because this is how life is’ or ‘you see your life like a glass half empty’. And no, do not bring up the God card.

May we find answer as time continues to do its thing. For the ‘blessed’ ones may lose the power on a rainy day, and the ones who had been through a tiny fraction of hell may be seated on cloud nine.

This might not be the perfect solution, but this satisfies my crumpled heart.

(And for now, the satisfaction is all that matters.)


word barf #7: friendships

Where is the line drawn?

  I have to admit that I choose who I want to be friends with. It’s pretty silly because I believe that friendships develop over time, but then I realized that we choose whether or not we want to run miles for so and so.

There isn’t a perfect formula to boost your friend to go to the best friend level. During my early primary school years, I changed my best friend every few months or so. Currently my “best” friends include the ones who I still contact/insult ever since we were seven, and the ones whom I constantly hang out with for the past three or four years.

However there were things which I only blurt to my friends in school. I pick the ones who I want to listen to what I want to share. Perhaps it’s because this person can relate to me more, perhaps this one can give me better advice -I really do not know.

I also believe that most friendships are temporary. This could possibly the reason why I do not have many ‘BFF’s, for the ones who earn this title are the ones who have the potential to be involved in my life for the next sixty years or so.

The struggle: part I.

   This does not happen all the time, but often I find myself being a fool for giving in too much. Usually I get too afraid destroying the friendship and so I let them be -even if it hurts me.

Towards the end of last year I broke down in the girls’ changing room in front of a few of my classmates. Obviously shameless of my tears, I spilled my hurts between the muffled sobs. It was about this person who I was once friends with, but occasionally, the insults thrown at me were terrible. There was a point where he talked about my private life to another person, and it was my last straw.

We had stopped being friends long before my awful breakdown. Despite that he still exclaimed an insult meant for me. In the changing room, one of my classmates told me that he was a bully. And I have to confess, even if I still feel uncomfortable saying this: although we had good, fun, and memorable times together, he is a bully.

   The struggle: part II.

  I am not totally triggered by being taken advantage of, but I get absolutely hurt if people cannot sacrifice as much I sacrifice for them. I don’t mind doing things for them, but how can they not give just a little bit more time and effort for me? Like, are they really too lazy to read a 500-word post on my blog when I asked for feedback? Lolz.

Pretty upsetting and definitely hurtful. They could argue that I am being selfish for not looking at the things they have already done, but gosh, the amount of my heart and soul poured into this compared to theirs is vast.

Agreed. It’s silly of me being so calculative, but from this, I learn one thing. They view the friendship differently than I do. I can put them on the pedestal, but they do not put me in a place just as important. And that’s bitter.

I know this because I was once like that. I was self-centered, and currently, still self-centered like how many of us are. I would be lying if I said that I treasure the friendship as much as the other party did. I apologize for never giving my all if you are my friend (new or old) reading this.

So far in twenty seventeen I have not slack yet by treating these golden souls badly compared to how they treated me. Aside from that, I’m planning to repay the extra amount of effort they gave. It’s supposed to be a secret, but they’re too humble to know who they are.

The lesson.

  To stand up for myself is something I am still trying to do. There has to be a limit, and sometimes, snipping away the knot can actually set myself free. Another thing is perhaps to not expect too much from people. Even your ‘BFF’s can’t go all out for you. Truly it is devastating, but that is how people are.

  Let time mend the heart, but never be afraid to make friends.


word barf #5: by leaps and bounds

Sometimes the first flower that blooms is the first to die. Too early. Too young. Too vulnerable.

Yet things play differently to the brighter creatures in this planet. Perhaps it is alright to charge head on to the years beyond the present. Maybe it is okay to strip off everything and turn an almost 180 degrees.

Write a new chapter, not a new book which has no relation to the first. Chase for the things you’re meant to chase, not the things you will chase years ahead from now. Growing up is involuntary, but why are we volunteering to be much older than we currently are?

The world is now moulded into something much more, and more does not simply means good. Society has set the bar much higher, and we have to reach those standards. Look at those trembling young fingers holding a makeup brush. See that fifteen-year-old spending all his savings just for the shoes currently in ‘style’.

They blossom too soon. Too influenced by the unconscious rules the globe has set. Too unmellow to think of the long term. That money can be saved for something much better. That ‘priority’ should be replaced with a responsibility much greater.

And when we grow up faster than we should, we think we gain. True, but it is not as much as how much we will lose. We say that we do not want to grow up, but ironically we indulge ourselves into more responsibilities which we should face when we are older. Perhaps by this we lose will our old friends and definitely we will lose our time. Nonetheless, the crucial thing of all is that we will lose ourselves.

Us in five years’ time will not be the same us we aspire to be in five years’ time.

Who are we to fiddle the clock? Let time take its course.