Episode 79: Swings and Things

4.18.22.

The best things happen on a swing. Everything is better on a swing. Eating. Talking. Dancing. Fighting. 

It was Good Friday this past weekend and a week earlier, Nicholas had invited my entire suite and Ian to his perhaps, favorite place in the world: church. 

"Why?" I asked.

"I come for the people, for the community. I really like it there," he said. Something is probably between his hands, to be fiddled with, when he speaks deeply about anything. His eyes turn far off, as if he's at church at the thought of church... while talking to me. A modest Buddhist who keeps saying "Hallelujah" when the assignment is turned in, and relief is had. 

Oh, Nicholas. 

For now, I gotta take you to church. 

We left on time and got there at the knick of time. Thank god Nicholas made us leave earlier by 15 minutes. Our suite...well, the girls and I, have a habit of being just an eeensy late to lots of plans. It's people like Ian and Nicholas that remind us how important being punctual really is. And possible punctuality is. 

Nicholas led us there the whole way, his feet bouncing. Reminding me a bit of Allison in his walk. If reincarnation is real, Allison's feet have reincarnated as Nicholas' for brief moments. Because no one could walk as happy and bouncy as Allison can. That's my hot take but that similar "up", "up" is there. I'm not obsessed with feet, I swear. I'm obsessed with walking. :P

Naina, Garima, and I would walk at our own paces. Nicholas and Ian in the front. Me in the middle. Naina and Garima in the back. 

The whole trip was a blur to me. Ian was memorizing the train lines again, the East to West line. Nicholas kept making faces at Naina and she'd return with eye raises and pouts of her own haha. Faces were made at just about anyone that would look our ways. No one really did it at Ian though oop. Perhaps, we all respect Ian too much to show him even a silly face. Though, Ian himself can definitely make silly faces. "Elementary school theatre," he attributed it to. Garima who shares a brain with Ian and was also memorizing the train lines, her eyes focused and looking away as she recounted on her fingers the train stop names. Naina expressing how grateful she was that Garima is there again, "if you weren't here Garima, I wouldn't know what to do," after I said something silly or perhaps, agreed with Nicholas on something controversial again. So it goes. :P

Metal. I gripped a lot of metal on the train. How could I forget that? Sometimes, the train would stop just an eensy too hard and I would be grateful for the wall behind me or the grip above my head. Scenes flashed through the windows. 30 seconds of darkness. 30 seconds of light and city and green and prosperity. 30 seconds of darkness. Eventually our stop at City Hall came. We had stood the whole time on the train.

Nicholas led us through a futuristic mall. Neon lights. An underground tunnel with media and art and pink and blue lights everywhere. All of this was... a mall. I knew that Singapore is shopping central but I didn't know to this extent. At least 6 or 8 floors of shopping. Escalators everywhere up and everywhere down. I had a gut feeling that his church was fancy as fuck, from that luxurious walk. 

I was right. The elevator up was rich in space. We had so much space ahhh and so much space up. Spacious elevators mean one thing and one thing only: they're leading me up to some seriously nice places. A really kind couple that Nicholas was familiar with greeted us on the way up. The sweet lady helped pass the church pamphlets to us. We made a stop at the restrooms and my god, even that was fancy. Our group had talked about this once but, women's bathrooms really are too damn small. If I were to enter one, the back of my legs would barely brush the toilet seat JUST to close the door. It's... absolutely disgusting how small and cramped bathrooms are.

But this was not. I had sooo much space to close the door. And so relieved, I relieved.

On the way out of the restroom, with Garima happily holding the door and Naina bouncing or bobbing her head on her way out -- all of us more than curious about what would happen in church on Easter Friday. What happens in churches? I knew little. I knew Jesus had died for something, but what? And did Nicholas invite me to come along too because I always ask questions about his religion, like: "What would Christianity have to say about the death penalty?" 

He had answered: "Only God can take away your life." 

"But what if, someone believes that they're God? That they're the next one?" I had asked.

He paused, intent, "Good point," he said. The question went unanswered. 

I wonder though, if that was why I found myself then in a church, curious to see if a few could be had. Answers about how services ran, since I've never observed before. 

On the way out of the restroom and noticing m that hair didn't look too good in the mirror. 

"Disgusting," I said to myself, as I tucked away the strands.

Naina heard me and quickly and loudly said, "nAsTy GIRL!" Garima and I burst out laughing. Naina has a knack for identifying the nasty wherever nasty exists, and if nasty is what I am. So be it. 

However, I'm a lady. And I refuse to be ~ a nasty girl ~ on my first ever church experience. XD I am a child of my parents after all. Religiously, we hold onto abstinence and cleaning the whole damn house every Sunday. Not that abstinence de-nastifies me. :P

Here we are. The last ones to sit ourselves down at the beginning of service. The whole space of this church felt like a white low-ceilinged wedding hall. There weren't any windows except for one, on the edge of the stage. Low-backed, hard-cushioned chairs in neat rows. At any moment, I felt like someone was going to get married. But no one got married. No, because, we were here with Nicholas and Ian to learn about why Jesus died for all of us. Why his death was an act of love. Why more people needed to be liberated by Jesus' love. 

Religiously, the folks here follow the pamphlet. The quotes. The songs. The songs are gorgeous oh my gosh. Guitar-game was strong. The sermon was extensive and I could understand the pull of Christianity. It identifies the pain in those going through difficult times and guides people to feelings of liberation if they let go of their worries and choice, and choose only one thing: choose God. 

People were clasping their hands. Nicholas clasped his hands. Ian looked on deeply, fitting into the place like this is home, and as we'll later learn: "It's very similar to my church back home." 

There was a lot of sitting down and then standing up for the songs. There were at least 5 songs. Maybe I'm exaggerating. Maybe I should have kept the pamphlet instead of recycling it with Naina's and Garima's, so I can remember how many songs we stood up for. I do remember noticing in my periphery, how Naina swayed lightly to the music, her head nodding a little ways there and that. Garima held the pamphlet, reading every word, as if she couldn't follow closely enough. I felt that too. Every second of song or sermon, I was analyzing and relating back to my experiences in Buddhist temples and teachings. One last time, the songs were pretty fire. I know I keep talking about them but I can see how healing it was to lead with music. The words themselves weren't something I believed in religiously, but the melody. 

It reminded me of the song Ian had played for us on the piano one time. The song he played twice. Hopeful and loved. I felt that. :) 

"We have hot cross buns outside. We have enough for everyone so please help yourselves."

Even the hot cross buns were fancy. Oh my gosh. They were perfect buns. I had raisins in my bun and though it's my least favorite flavor: raisins. But they made it amazingly, blending it with apple cubes and a cinamonny taste. Still warm, and the bun skin was glowing under the white lights of the church. The raisins reminded me of the raisins I've grown to love in my breakfasts. A crucial detail of my everyday here in Singapore is convincing myself that breakfast is GOOD enough to get out of bed for. 

And breakfast usually is incredible. Their warm, plain oatmeal with raisin toppings. Goddamn that stuff gets me racing to the dining halls in no time and wakes me up so warmly inside. I feel so mothered by oatmeal and raisins, and lately, they've stopped serving oatmeal and that actually... saddens me SO much. I've eaten amazing things in my life. Richly flavored meal items. Custard breads. Vietnamese Pho. But the plainness of oatmeal. It strikes me so deeply how plain it is, yet when you add in the incredibly sweet raisins into it -- it's so... simple. It's in your face how perfectly simple it is. Simple mornings. With just oatmeal and raisins. I rise.

My friends laugh at how silly and easy I am to please. Naina would do this thing where she enters the dining hall. I'm already set up. I'm more than a handful bites into my meal. She doesn't need my opinion but asks anyway, and that is, "How's that meal set?" She asks so she can make an educated guess about which ones are good and which ones aren't. 

I always say that my meal is good. Because it usually is. I love so many of my meals here in the dining hall. Or maybe I've managed to choose well each time. Or maybe I'm way too easy to please. For all these reasons, my opinion on which meals are good are overlooked. In silly ways, but Naina asks anyways. 

Though if we're being honest, I'm a selective person haha  BUT... I do easily enjoy the simple things, where mornings are made by warm oatmeal. And a "good morning" greeting on the way out. Let it be known.

The five of us walked through the hallway towards the floor-to-ceiling windows leading to the rooftop gardens. A door was propped open and we stepped through onto a patch of grass. We had a wondrous view of the city before us. So many little kids running around the green garden paths that existed. It had rained a bit earlier so the grass sunk deep into mud. Hence, me in my sandals was not ideal. Whatever the case, we made it to the swings. Each one could squeeze 3 people. Garima, Naina, and I squeezed into one. I rocked into it with hips and all, folding forward and leaning far back to swing us higher. Ian took videos and pictures of us, trying to get as many candids as possible. He's already trying to get our candids, an eye out for us and that's how he shows us he cares. He wants to know us for who we really are and capture us in our shenanigans. In ways we can't capture ourselves already. Naina and Ian are very similar in that regard. Naina would pull me to the side, knowing I'm a bit of a flirt under the spotlight -- she captures me at my best. Of anyone I know, the most persistent and patient of people would be Naina. A knee pressed into the ground, even in heels, she's going to make sure she got angles of you. Motivating you to try new poses. Flurries of affirmation and confidence-building. Naina becomes a sort of healer through photo taking? I wonder if that's a real power haha? If so, she's unreal with it.

Nicholas shows us he cares with acts of service. He's not the type to overstay or ever will be. If he's there and he's uncomfortable, he just would not, but he's willing to wait for however long it is if it matters. Which is a very general description of any person haha. But then, perhaps I only know Nicholas generally. And Nicholas is generally and genuinely a good Christian boy.

The trip had been fancy as fuck. Church was one of the fanciest events to happen to me in Singapore -- haha, god I make this sound like a joke but it is NOT. 

Later, our group of 5 headed outside to the roof area. We had a beautiful view of the city, even to see the edge of the water. We explored the edges of the scenic roof. Little kids ran past us aplenty. I was eager to stay and look over the edge. We were all eager to explore an aspect of the place. There was even a soccer field that had a net covering for the length of it. Importantly, there were wooden swings left and right.

The kind of swing that I had been ungrateful about when I was younger. 

I remember asking for a kid's play swing when I was younger. Yellow seat. Fancy wooden playground and all. However, the swing that my Dad had assembled on the side of the house looked nothing like the one from the park. It was an "adult" swing. The kind that two people sat on and talked about the meanings of things, didn't swing very high, and wasn't very fast. 

I was 7. And disappointed.

This time, I saw it in Singapore only to be delighted. Something to sit, swing high ~enough~, and feel small again. Garima, Naina, and I fit ourselves into one seat. Nicholas and Ian stood by watching us laugh and discuss whether or not my hip movements really did make the swing swing any higher. I'm sure it did -- they didn't believe me. "It's your knees," they said. 

Well they were gonna have to stand up to my Dad's swinging advice when he first taught me on the swing that disappointed me. "It's your hips," he said.

Ian filmed us without us knowing at first. Because of him, we have some candid videos of ourselves laughing and being on that swing. Nicholas would film us too with my camera, as I pushed Ian, Naina, and Garima on it. I might have pushed them too hard and too high. Ian's knees were up to his chest, his tall, lanky frame small and scared as I realized what I'd done. 

"He's been scared for some time haha omg," Naina observed.

I know I describe this all in simple ways. But this was really it. It was simple. Being together.

There was more laughter here. Created. And desired than I ever knew to do with. 

Ian would later or was it before? he would stand on top of the swing and swing. 

None of us saw it coming, but he was smiling under his mask for sure. His arms long enough to reach either side and make it move. The existence of a swing brought out the youth in all of us. Making us want to be silly. Feel the speed. Have someone strong enough to take care of us and push us off the ground. 

It feels free. 

To be. And breathe out a scoff. A laugh. A thing we thought.

Where the worries lie is where our feet push off.

Episode 78: Invisible Hand

5.2.22.

Kids are disgusting. Where they don't even realize they're disgusting. When you're a kid, you don't understand how soap works, until you realize there's a difference before and after. Before, your hands slightly oily from everything you've touched before. And after, a new dryness to those little hands.

Teachers constantly squeezed hand-sanitizer onto themselves, onto desk surfaces. You keep going to class sick, and sit there, all dazed, waiting for the pointer to strike the 3rd line on that clock soon. Every day was the same. Recess when. Eating when. Your friends.

I remember, whenever I was so sick I couldn't think anymore, I would tell the teacher. But I'd have to really think first, because that would mean ruining my perfect attendance. Perfect attendance fucking sucks, because you'd have to be healthy for that shit. Kids get sick though. Our immune systems newly developing as we sneeze improperly into our hands, and play "Mama Mama can't you see?" like we don't require another pump of hand-sanitizer. And come home, spreading classroom diseases to the baby sister sleeping next to you.

Even if I told the teacher, they wouldn't believe me. What if I'm lying so I can go home? But who wouldn't? Want to go home? Every day is the same. And lessons are hardly interesting, save for my friends.

On days that I'm sick, my dad would drive from whatever construction job he was at and come into the nurse's office to pick me up. The school nurse was always the same and he would come to recognize her by her voice whenever she made the call to him. Eventually, she might not be able to understand what he's saying, and pass the phone to me. Or maybe my Dad requested to speak with me. My 7 year old self would get all excited to speak with my Dad over the phone. It hits different when after hours and hours of hearing your teacher talk and talk and talk. To hear your Dad ask you softly how you're doing, "If you want me to come get you, I will," he'd say. Everything would be okay. He's on his way. 

I count on him. I can always count on him. I count on him in my heart today as much as I counted on him then. With my Dad, I hear his footsteps and I know it's him. He walks so heavily and uncomfortably. Like every step is an exclamation point with a greater emphasis on the long line in the exclamation point. I would hear him ask them where I am. There he is, the man I love first and most.

14 years later. I'm studying abroad. I find myself sick and isolating somewhere on the 15th floor, asking my friends to get food for me. Every meal feels like a treat. Every friend has a different food grabbing style. All of them make sure I have my fruits haha. All of them make sure I have my jellies haha. Some of them grab extra packets of Milo. Some of them grab extra packets of coffee. One person would grab me food and not tell me that it was the last time I would see them, until after I had gobbled up the meal, happily updating them how well the meal went and how I can't wait to see them after quarantine. "I'm actually flying to Vietnam in two hours but should we meet again, we must." Some of them, a yogurt, and gosh, one went out of her way to get me boba. The same girl would later give me a planner I badly needed, a planner perfect for everything important I would do for that year as a parting gift. I miss her. I miss them.  Yet, one person reminded me of my Dad. LMAO. 

What struck me is one certain person: My econ problem set partner. He brought me everything. He brought me every salad dressing option available and the salad. He brought me all the drinking options in case there was one I didn't like. He brought me ketchup and chili sauce. And it made me think of my Dad. 

My Dad did the same. He would always do that thing where he would go to the store to get me treats when I was sick. I would ask for one type of ice cream to soothe my sore throat, but he'd bring home 3 different options, in case it wasn't what I wanted. "If anything, you get to try different things too haha." Looking back, ice cream on a sore throat is a terrible idea. 

"As long as your mother thinks it's for when you're done being sick. ;)" 

And so it goes. I miss my family. I get to see them within a week and I'm incredibly excited. But now, I just feel that even when I'm far from family and the love that I thought could only exist with them, I see a thousand versions of that "care" in the people here. In the way they leave me food after I've been locked up all day. Doing nothing in particular. Feeling nothing in particular, until I open the door, and food is left for me. Naina and Garima dropping off coffee packets hehe and that water kettle to help my sore throat. Naina and Nicholas putting together a heart for me to have, meters away. My forehead pressed against the edge of the door entrance, wishing to be closer to them physically and squeeze. Linh leaving me texts full of happiness and bubbles after buying me boba that I never knew I needed. And Linh that left me my first apple, it was a darn good apple that I knew I badly needed but forgot to ask for. Louis left me so much food and options. These folks. These folks are great. And I am cared for. I am fine. 

Back then, my mother would overly dote on me. I'd lie in bed, dropped out for the whole day, waking up past dinner. My little self would tuck myself into bed and everything, feeling the fever like a drum. Hoping that sleep helps, and waking up worse. But there was always an invisible hand pressed against my forehead, wondering if I'm getting better at all. 

In Singapore. Days before I disappear back home. Yet I'm here all alone feeling all these feelings over meals left outside my door.

Singapore, all its entrances, and ways of wrapping itself around my heart. 

Best,

Ngoc

P.S. This is definitely a... family X friends episode. ;)

I'm going through my old episodes and publishing themmmm. Because I have so many half written Singapore ones. It's going to be published out of order but I'm doing my best haha. 

I'm a half-ass, but when you meet me, I prove you wrong. ;) 

I GIVE 100% ALWAYS. 

^-^ 

just wow, in less than 36 hours, ill be in DC all alone. AGAIN. omg ;(( MORE ON THAT TOO SHOOT

Spring in Singapore with people who made all its storms feel sunny :)

In alphabetical order are poems I had written about those that had left a beautiful memory of what my time in Singapore was.

I know that I had not written as much about Singapore as I would like, but I assure you those posts are coming. :) 

For now, what I hope suffices will be glimpses into those I shared my spring with. 

They stole the show. 

And I adore them all for it. 

Garima

There’s not a laugh I yearn 

to earn more

Than yours

Naina says, Neha says, I say.

Who was I to say 

That running into you in the hallway that day

Was one of the easiest things I’ve ever done. Would undo me.

I never knew a first conversation could feel so much like breathing

Like seeing, and reflected back,

Were mirrors running to our future.

That future saw right.

That future saw us 

Full of laughter. Riding color. All the giggles, secrets, and joys your eyes cannot hide. 

All the kindness you share, boundless and rich.

And I had thought that I had been given all the love in the world

Until I had yours too.  

You give and you give and you give

And people taketh again and again. 

This shall not. Happen. Again. 

Because just as you have helped others grow with your love,

I know the love of our suite has reminded you, even a semblance of

your power. Of that fearless humor. Of that beautiful desire within you

To ask of life all that it has to offer,

And find it in the people you have chosen, people privileged enough, 

To earn your love. 

Your honesty and “disgustings” now color conversation as much as the fervor

Of what you desire from this, from your exquisite and beautiful life.

Who would not consider drowning

In how deeply you reach

Into us each?

For you are quicker than the devil. Innocently and dangerously charming

Out every truth hidden within a person. Within me.

The world awaits your power. Your charm. Your self-assuredness.

You are joy. You are golden. You are daylight. 

(Gladly be the butt of the joke, if your laugh is the end of it.)

Ian

If I thought I had a thought,

Then I should think again, 

Because you’ve already thought that thought.

Perhaps more deeply,

And I’m just thinking on a whim.

And if you disagree, you never show it.

You’d rather keep your friends than be right.

But beyond the endless ruminating 

you seem to have in constant with,

There is something more obvious,

As beautiful and satisfying as a fast ball catch: your inner glow.

Oh, how it shows. How fast and easy it is to catch on.

“I never knew someone like Ian existed.”

You’ve heard these words more than you can count.

We see it as bright as daylight.

Your kindness. Your truest goodness.

It is as vast, as obvious, and as forever as the ocean we all looked at

Together at Labrador Park, again at Sentosa.

Your knees up to your chest, smile up and out with the people lucky enough to call you their friend. 

Fill up this universe’s oceans

With all the love, the respect, you share for the humanity in us each. 

The humanity you strive to see, no matter the stranger. 

For we have seen it, your absolute goodness,  and it is hard to live on with anything second 

to what you have given us.

If there is a dream, may it fall where you wish. 

If there is a hope, may it rest and stand protected. (Or we shall protect it for you.)

Thank you for teaching us

What it means to wait for everyone else

No matter how fast or slow the walk is

The person is the same, the destination constant.

There is no whim to reach. No urge to follow home. No time to make. 

Just the deep ruminating

Of good thoughts with good friends

On good evenings, at no particular place as long as there is space,

With the magical, kind, GOOD, creative, invincible, and unforgivingly incredible,

Ian Choi.

Naina

No one else exists who loves and wants and wishes love

For those you love 

As you do.

When the waves are harsh to us first, 

You catch us among them.

The observant bean, all seeing. Your eyes do not miss a single thing.

For where a smile is a bit lost,

There is your hug to be had.

Your arms anchoring

Against all the turning–

For if we are in water 

in need of clarity,

There you are with a hug or another story.

No meal, no table, could run dry with your stories.

They are quick to fill any sweet silence, any part and moment,

But make our meals feel more real, more together,

You are a weaver of stories

Just as you are a knitter of people,

Putting us together. Collecting us for a birthday and bringing us together all the same.

Who could resist your dreamy smile? 

Who could resist your want to hug, your warmest of hugs?

But give in

And squeeze you back, hard.

I don’t have to teach you how a great hug is given,

When you’ve giving them to me, to us,

So freely, so fiercely.

Because there’s a heart etched in your hands,

Hands that easily remember to pull out a little love,

A snack from Daiso, a Polaroid of us, a letter saying nothing short of “I love you,”,

Your hands give as much as they easily capture what became of a family that felt complete

With you at its center.

And so like freedom and fierceness,

I know you shall channel into the next and the next,

do more than merely survive.

Writing and rewriting,

With nothing but love for us all in your life.

Neha

I can see it all in my mind; your back against the golden ocean,

Lean forward, Neha. You are catching yourself off guard 

With how easy, how close all you want is near – is here. 

No, you are reached out to. No, you are falling towards;

The world is calling towards – you –

And you are not afraid.

The bravest of this bunch. There is no little box near enough

For you to make opportunity of, burn those ceaselessly buggy fears, and catch them all.

There is no torch as bright, no hope as brave, as yours – as the brightest blue star.

At times, you may want to be well enough alone

But you have more love in your little body,

Love that sees the most of any body to share. A love that is as warm as it is rare.

On our worst days, you see our best. Every detail of us etched in your mind. 

Every strength in us, you see so quickly. So accurately.

Sometimes I wonder if you’ve read my mind.

Show the world what you know. 

Step into any room like it’s your ballroom

Like there’s an audience. Your confidence 

is yours. Your movements. Make. Create. It is lovely. 

Thank you for smiling at all the little things as if it’s your first time

As if it’s your first life. 

The awe you hold for the world around you, for the uncertainty that lies on,

You are steadfast and unrelenting yet forgiving as you forge ahead.

May your beautiful eyes hold this awe forever and ever.

With every instinct, every piece of love, coalescing in your heart, in your head.

Thank you for noticing, seeing, and gleaning our truths out. 

Just as the ocean catches you off guard,

You disarmor me. Pull out all our secrets, I want to share them. And it must be you.

Likewise, share with us how you feel lying on the soft sand, looking up at a starless sky. 

Is it the potential you see? The great distance between yourself and beyond? Is it the long road ahead? The potential you see in yourself, you see in others. You see so easily in others.

Your eyes are crafted with the gaze of love and we have fallen for our dancing queen.

Because no, you are not falling towards any golden ocean,

You are jumping in among the greatness. So it shall be. The star danced and lit up the sea.

Nicholas 

You know you’re making a bad joke before you make it.

At ease, even when everyone’s eyes eye you keenly,

Or eyes rolled,

There is no need,

no explanation, 

Other than how you easily bring joy into any space–

being truly, unapologetically, and irrevocably yourself.

You grin into your seat from wherever you are, presence made.

Fin. 

Before another joke comes in. 

What does reliability look like? 

It looks like one Nicholas 

Reliably reading the Bible, the Economist, reading something

Fiddling with something, thinking of something. 

It looks like one Nicholas doing what he can

For those who are lucky enough to request of him. 

It looks like one Nicholas ready to give

To share his greatness, his knowledge humbly, talk badly of nobody. 

It is one Nicholas saying, “No worries. No worries at all.”

An hour later, a bag of adapters on the door. A knock on the door. A reliable grin at the door.

Grace us with your presence. Whether it be a silly joke, an observation of this silly world, 

You show us you care. If love is too strong a word, your word is “there.”

I will be “there”. I will be “there, soon.” I am “there.” 

You are the definition of an act. For your world is rich in words, the words you read and collect and say,

But you will never only be a man of your word.

You are the act of the world.

You are brave. You reach out. 

You are unafraid to ask for what you need.

Thank you then, for knocking on our door first, for asking of us, asking for us. 

We have the privilege of having had you because you gave us

Your time first. See you “there.” On our chair. 

Thank you, good neighbor, maybe “friend?”.

May any day that feels slightly less than it should be,

May you know just how wonderful, how truly good, and wanted you are in every space.

Shikhar

You are the “blur.” 

You are a movement, a “to” and to the “next”

There is no unfinished thought you wouldn’t finish

No “yes” you wouldn’t even attempt to entertain,

Fast, shikhar, you are fast. A walking spark of yellow joy,

Of Blue Dutch Ladies, of white anonymous cows’ melks,

of grey Singaporean stormy skies made yellow again

Spending it with you and your “blur,”

Yet you are

a calm, yet an eye of a storm, yet a quiet.

If a person can be both,

It’s our Shikhar.

Your presence feels so rich, so comforting. 

There is a promised good time

There is a promise of a laugh

A room echoing what you had started

With you at its center,

Quick smiles, quicker remarks– 

Shikhar the Sacrificial: quick to catch all the awkwardness in a room

Even if it’s not yours to catch.

And don’t we enjoy the sight of a once-for-all stuttering, loss-for-words Shikhar?

You were a later addition to our family

And you fit so perfectly.

You fit in as much as you feed us

Feed our energy,

A live human battery pack.

But you’re toxic as fuck.

You say yes to everything, to everyone, if there’s time for it

Every idea is given thought to

If not for some down-to-earth folks to bring you and your thoughts back

But that’s exactly what makes you lovely– 

You don’t mind being the butt of the joke.

You don’t mind exhausting all resources to continue on.

You are brave, imaginative, and absolutely golden. 

There’s no stopping you,

For you are our “blur,” Shikhar.

Episode 77: So She Soiree-d Away, Dress and All

I woke up this morning, having this gut feeling that today was either going to be another neutral, homework-all-day kind of deal or that it was going to be a very boringly bad day. My gut feeling is usually wrong. 

But it was right too. 

I made quite a lot of progress on homework this morning. Just in under 20 minutes, I read 15 pages. I got out of bed before 12. 

And then I left for a wholesome lunch with the sweet creature, Neha. I left our suite wearing my favorite blue and white flower top. The one that makes me feel like a sexy baddie. Hugging me like a second, flowery skin. And together, our two pretty selves sat down for brunch, eating meals we weren't excited about. Smiling and deep in conversation about how our suitelife has changed us. How each of us have changed and taught each other, to be better people for others, and for ourselves.

"It's so easy to fall in love with Naina. She already has so much love for herself," Neha says. All sincerity and admiration in her eyes. I agreed heartily. Anyone looking or speaking with Naina could tell in a heart beat.

"Garima would never ever judge anyone for anything. She sees all the sides to every story, and takes no one's side until she hears everyone properly." I began, excited to talk about Garima in general. 

"She's like a caretaker too," Neha added. 

"Haha, Garima and Naina are both our caretakers, not gonna lie.” Neha and I agreed on it all. 

Very soon after, Zhao joined us for lunch, as if summoned. His intense morning energy only partially eased by the small packet of pink "Royal Peach Milk Tea" powder he brought. Something to mix with hot water. Zhao is one of the most intense people I've ever met in my life. An opinion, about everything. An argument, about everything. It's hard not to admire that, or admire how self-assured he is. His voice, a boom across any room. You'd forget that he's the kind of guy that always consumes sweet matcha milk tea powder as often as he can. You'd forget he maybe like, likes babies. Haha of course he likes babies!

At how wide my eyes had gotten when I asked about his Peach Milk Tea powder, he asked if I'd like to try. 

"Yes! Thank you Zhao!"

When the warm cup of milk tea was made, I tried to pour it into my empty yogurt cup. He glared at me, haha, and in his commanding, annoyed voice: "Just drink it from my cup, Ngoc. Come on, man." 

And it was super good. Woah. I've just never seen people so comfortable sharing food with each other, as people do here in Singapore. Ian from Australia, joined us later. Carrying several stories and a lot of questions about whether or not it was Zhao that he had ran into last night. A little hung over from the night before, Ian recalled seeing Zhao when he needed him. A slight smile as he shared the memory, as if it’s a memory worth remembering.

"It was me, Zhao, that you saw, bro," Zhao said confidently. And it was Zhao that scanned him and his crew up. 

That's the thing about Zhao. He's the most gentle, motherly soul, when he wants to be. But even in his brass way of words, he shows his motherly instincts there as well ha. 

I eventually tired myself out with all of the comp sci that my table was speaking. Python and packages and "line-by-line." Neha, an excited thing as she talks about something she cares about. I didn't have the heart to leave early, but if I didn't, I wouldn't have listened to much.

As I moved to leave, Neha joined me in leaving too, even though she probably wanted to stay and speak with Zhao more about -- computer science. Gosh, the girl. 

"I feel like it's always me that talks. I want to know more about you, Ngoc," Neha says, after I asked her another question. 

That's when it hit me. In her unplanned but quick-witted ways, Neha had identified a big insecurity of mine. 

It's always been this way, but I've had so many conversations where... I stray the questions away from myself. As if I didn't have great things to say myself. As if I were scared for my life that I would bore someone. It's a fear rooted in childhood, and gosh, of course I know that I have valuable things to say. Of course, I'm gifted with a voice that is strong. Or more like... I've trained my voice to be as strong and clear as it is today. When I was a pre-k student, I would read books to my stuffed animals, showing each page of the picture book to them as if they were students. As if I were a teacher.

As if I spoke English well enough to read a picture book in a voice as clear as Mrs. Lowry, my pre-K teacher. 

I am constantly reminded by friends and family that I'm a great storyteller. I have the content and the voice for it, yet a part of me, struggles with acknowledging these sayings. Struggles with feeling valuable. As if I could be interesting enough to hold your attention. Even writing out this fear feels silly. I've proven myself and these fears wrong time and time again, yet bits of it are all around.

But hey. Years of college has passed. Study abroad is happening right now, and gradually and surely, I am chipping away this fear. It's not perfectly chipped away. But my friends steady me. And I am steady, if not a willow to the wind.

So Neha, saw through me, with her passing comment. She might not know it -- but she hit the bulls-eye. I'm 21 years old. And a part of me, is still afraid to speak, hahahaha. Silly girl who? Silly girl me.

I arrived at the suite, grabbing our broom set and leaving it outside for Finlay to come pick up so he could spring clean his own suite. Finlay's energy is so nurturing to run into. Kind of like, a really old friend vibe. It's as if years has passed each time we meet, but we are never ever short on conversation. Finlay is a goddamn firework. Wisdom, world-building humor, and all. He brings out the worst in me, and sees the best in me. That's why I keep on running into him. 

I eventually pick up homework in my room. Alone for an hour or two. Busy taking Instagram breaks every 10 minutes of work, like an addict. There I was on IG, getting a fix of shit off my feed, curious about the news, about others lives, whatever new thing I could learn like how to properly hold chopsticks. But I'm Vietnamese, goddamn it! Then—

First mistake: I saw something I shouldn't have. 

And I burst into tears. For hours. I felt like I couldn't stop crying. 

When would all of it stop? My palms to my eyes, head to the sky, as I took it all in. What this new reality meant. I had deluded myself. 

Big lesson of the year: I'm fragile as heck. 

It's all in my head that I'm this strong, confident creature. But god, am I fragile. 

I was texting a friend, eyes red, when I felt a light tap on my shoulder. Naina. 

"Ohmigod are you crying Ngoc?" 

She hugged me tightly, as I told her everything. Every fear. Explaining the tears. She looked deep into my eyes, as if she could set an anchor deep in my heart, as if I was a capsizing ship happening in front of her. And I was. Torn and shredded— unfixable I felt. Who else will I belong to? But her hugs and words shed some light to the situation. Just enough. And better, I could feel.

Later, Naina and Shikhar would head off together, and together so cutely, get themselves the hot ass, spicy ass mala.

While the two were gone, Neha found me. And I shared it all again with her. Our hands gripped each other. And like Naina, well, both of them. Both of them know how to make me feel not silly about the situation. About what I was feeling and why I was feeling it. Neha gripped me like she knew, as if she could pull away the negative energy in my body, and replace it with the light from hers. Her voice and words, like water, washing the poison from my bleeding wounds. 

When Shikhar returned with Naina and sat himself down, it's as if he too knew what happened. His eyes looked on at me as if he knew I was hurting. Perhaps, well... not even perhaps haha. My face is more honest than I think it is. I can't hide a feeling for more than an hour. I'm too honest. Whatever reason it was, his presence was ultra comforting. So peaceful. Like a rock, and god, it is a match made in heaven. If you know what I mean. ;) 

Very quickly after, I went with Garima for dinner. Our walk was peaceful, windy. Cool air on my exposed shoulders. My pretty top, billowing out and around into whatever the wind wanted. Fate, out of my hands.

I wasn't ready to relive all of those sad feelings again a third time, and not in front of Garima. A midterm herself to worry about. I knew that I wanted to keep this conversation positive. Perhaps sooner than I feel, I'll be ready to tell her what happened without welling up too quickly. 

Yet as I walked alongside Garima, I felt myself loosen. After sharing with Naina and Neha, I felt a lot more steady. The song, "Whatever It Takes" by Imagine Dragons an anthem and mantra. One I could hear in the wind around me. My suitemates, the shoulders I needed. The arms that wrapped and held me standing. I could feel that hug even if we're just walking alongside each other.

Ian from South Korea didn't text us that he would join Garima and I for dinner. He just appeared. That's his thing. He shows he cares through actions, not words, haha. As always, we called out his name. Waved vigorously at the guy. We received nothing more than this strange, hand shake twist thing he does with his left hand -- the hand that often holds his phone. So it looks like he's shaking a bug off his phone whenever he acknowledges us, while his head is turned towards the food options. As if we're greeting more his hand than his face. 

What a silly young man. 

Dinner was calm. Nicholas. Ian. Garima. Me. Simple. Sweet. Peaceful. Perhaps we're too different to talk about anything that would include all of us -- but quickly, the magical question of: "How was your day?" Ian answered with all the important details. 

He had gotten a hair cut today. And yes, from a Korean barber shop. One that he'd Googled randomly. 40 minutes from here. Fair game. Unfortunately, his barber lady speaks plenty and while it was very entertaining, it was, unfortunately, plenty. At this, Nicholas made a shocked face and interrupted, "Oooo better not talk too much around this guy, haha." He said this with all his cheeks and teeth like a little kid. Ian smiled into his plate, shaking his head in a small no, as if he wanted us to keep talking lots and didn't mind at all. I asked if the barber was our age. And no, she wasn't. 

"She told me not to think, because she thinks I think too much." 

This is counterproductive advice, because Ian is the definition of a thoughtful man.

Eventually, someone behind our table burped loudly. Which triggered me a lot because... BECAUSE I BURP A LOT AND TOO LOUDLY AND CONFIDENTLY FOR MY OWN GOOD. I am a lady after all. :P But WOAH, always. In front of all of them. All the time. Our table definitely heard the burp behind us and myself triggered, I wondered aloud. 

"Shit. Oh my god. How are you all still my friends? I burp literally every day, all the time. How do you all deal with this so well? How are you really still my friends?" I asked. 

Everyone burst into laughter, as if I made a joke. And in many ways, yes, I had, but a part of me wondered if it ever really was an issue haha. Turns out it never was.

Ian asked, "Wait, are you ever embarrassed by your burps?" 

"Of course not!" I responded. 

"Then that's good. And also, when you do burp, I try not to look at you, so that you can feel that it's natural. That it's not that big a deal," he said earnestly. 

Ian is the definition of a good human. And what do I do to good people? I throw out courtesy, and ask them strange questions as if it were the most important thing to know.

"Ian..." I said seriously. My voice sounding careful and calculated. As if I was going to ask him something philosophical again, as I usually do.

Oh, but no. It was just a, "So Ian... have you ever burped in public before?" 

Again, our table burst out in laughter again. Garima really thought I was going to ask something serious, but here I was, attacking a good man. 

"Haha, next question. Next question," Ian said, laughing at his plate again while semi-nervously looking up at me. 

For privacy purposes, we were all quite wowed by his answer to the original question. Amazing.

Haha, I'm too brave for my own good and for the good of others. I come in. And I ruin. I come in, and I test Ian really really hard. Ian, if you're reading this, I'm so fucking sorry for testing you as I have. WELP. 

The four of us shuffled out of the dining hall. To return back home, to the mundane and the studying because it's a goddamn Sunday night. 

I felt better. A bit better after that dinner. I had it in me, to still be positive. To be distracted and so insulated within my own sense and world of humor. To be surrounded by good company, and forget this sharp pain in my brain. A sharp reminder of everything I wanted to forget. That I had already forgotten. 

We stopped at the Elm Common Lounge. I told the group I would head in there to practice some more piano, and by some strike of inspiration, they all joined me inside. I implored Ian to go ahead and play for us, since I'm more comfortable playing piano alone, rather than in front of them. 

Ian quickly walked over to the piano and played through a beautiful song, one that he was finding the notes to but we could tell, all the notes were leading somewhere. The second song he played from memory, a Christian song that he liked. That song was absolutely gorgeous. I felt like I was somewhere where all the hurt you ever felt doesn't stay. Where new things are made. That's how that second song he played made me feel. 

Hopeful. That's what hope is then haha. 

Hope is where new things are made. 

Once they left, I had the room to myself. I played and sang through "The Joker and the Queen" at least 7 times. 5 of which I recorded on my phone, to play back to myself later and see how I could improve. But already, I know that my voice is lovely in song. 

I don't sell myself short. I know what I got, :P. 

Just gotta get this voice to be stronger. Comfortable being louder. Hitting the highs like nada.

The song itself, is gorgeous. Someone who loves you so much that they always want you to win. That they'd willingly lose so you could have it all. But then, for you to want them to win as well. An equal partnership, building each other's house of cards up. I'm nothing but a house of hearts. And if he is too, so it shall be. That we left together.

My face wears my feelings, my truest thoughts, all too well. My suitemates have gotten sooo fucking good at reading my face like the back of their hand. 

Whenever the suitemates and I make a wish, Naina hears my list of wishes, and always, I leave the important one out. 

"You forgot one, Ngoc. We both know which one it is."

"Haha, right. And I want ----"

That's my secret not-so-secret secret.

But here I was. Taking up all this space. This piano room. Playing piano, blasting my feels, my voice. Like a lion all alone.

And it felt great. I wasn't feeling absolutely great though, but a bit better. A bit more slowed down. More realized.

I just hated myself. So fucking much. Just when things were getting so fucking good. Just when I found my peace, my routine -- I had lost myself to my feelings. I was weak to shit too late to fix.

I am. Lion. 

I am. Dragon.

I am. Sad.

It felt like a crawl, back to the elevator. Up to the 6th floor. When I ran into Garima. Into Naina. 

"Heard you signed up for the ballroom soiree from Matthew. The 7:30 pm slot with Yvette. Hope you have funnn and that you'll bring back a cookie for meee," Naina yearns cutely for.

"Shit I forgot that was happening tonight. What time is it--" I asked as I answered my own question. It was 7:28 PM. 

A part of me didn't want to go. I have so much I haven't done that needs to be done. How could I-- and I wasn't feeling emotionally well at all. I felt like a bad poop. I felt pooped. I just wanted to crawl away and just be super duper productive and forget everything.

But for some reason, I knew that if I did crawl away to be productive. I wouldn't go anywhere.

I would be stuck. Stuck forever glued and coming back full circle to the very things I wanted to hide away from. Stinking work wouldn't lift me up. 

I went against my first instinct. Put on my prettiest dress. The green cottage core one that I had once bought on a whim, one that brought to life all the colors I love. Tonight, I would spin in it. My favorite green bracelet. A golden necklace of roses and pink drop earrings. 

I didn't know where I was going, the location of the event. And I was going alone because Yvette forgot and couldn't make it. But I was rest assured she was out enjoying some bomb Korean food. 

Regardless, I made my way there, feeling like Cinderella. Feeling pretty like Cinderella. Feeling flowy and gown-y like Cinderella. Importantly, I was late to the ball. Quick on my feet, my slippers slapped the tiles beneath me. The moon, a thin, beautiful sliver of a smile in the sky. Promising me nothing and everything at the same time. This connection I have with the moon -- she comforted me tonight. With all of her no-promises. A witness to the unsurety, to this strangely good and terrible day I've had. Reminding me that I still have the rest of the night to live out a dream or two. To spin on the dance floor with strangers in. 

I had a beautiful night. The fairy lights overhead, greeting me like little fireflies. I picked the right dress. It had a weight to it, perfect for spinning and feeling painted and beautiful in.

I felt like a painting. I probably looked like one too, but I wouldn't know haha. I had raced out of my room too quickly to admire the person before me. 

The person signing me into the event asked if I came with a partner. Or if I knew anyone. I sounded pretty confident when I said I didn't. "But I can't wait to have fun tonight." It was a half-hearted wish. It was a hope that I would. I crossed under the flower arch and pathway of roses towards the dance floor. Everyone had already partnered up. I walked in, eyes wide, admiring the curves and steps of everyone around me. All of the colors and the golden lights gave the evening such a dreamy, romantic atmosphere. I started following the instructor when Matthew singled me out of no where. A walk-glide towards me.

And just like that, the night found me. And Matthew saw me.

I didn't know why I felt like I needed to ask but I did. Everyone was wearing masks so I thought I would have been undeterminable.

"How did you know who I was?" As we practiced through the steps.

With an amused, sarcastic laugh, he answered, "Of course I know who you are Ngoc."

And so Matthew, who was always just a suite neighbor and dinner buddy, was now my first dance partner. Dancing with him makes me feel so confident and sure of myself. An incredible dance lead. The amount of grace he has with his body is magnetic to the eyes. He's like a fairy prince. And everyone else is just meant to watch him glow. Never a dull moment with Matthew. He is after all, a social butterfly through and through. And on the dance floor, he looks ethereal. No longer the normal human I had come to know. A human dressed in t-shirts and khaki shorts and flip flops. A human with human problems and tutoring hours that he constantly worries about. Now, he's all arms and legs moving in curves. Gliding, as if in flight.

My next partner was Shirley who spun me into conversation. Both of us were exchange students. We were way too excited about each other and I loved it. We're both studying in Massachusetts and I can see it. I can see us hanging out again. A very cool, and positive young lady. Gorgeous as well, haha. A quick learner and patient with me los. Our dancing was so wholesome and I did my best, but gosh. I was so awkward and BAD. I tried my best. That's the good thing.

My partner after that was a handsome stranger that I had forgotten the name of. Now I regret it. I just know that he's an amazing dancer. At first as he walked by, I asked if he danced. With a hand up and out, he asked if I'd like to know if he danced or not. "Gosh, I would but I already have a partner, Shirley--". And Shirley interrupted and said for me to go ahead. To try it. 

And so with a look to Shirley that I'll be back very soon, I turned to my new partner, who showed me where to put my arm and let me know ahead of time which steps to take. So patient and gentle, soft and smooth. Dressed all in black, he looked like a vision. Like the dark prince everyone wants to know. His voice was composed, gentle, all assurances as I fumbled my way through our dance like some kind of young adult fantasy female protagonist. A little too soon, I let him go, and quickly after, he was Shirley's partner. And together, they looked beautiful. Chemistry full on, haha. I looked on like a lost sheep, before I turned around to finally take in my surroundings after all of that intense waltz learning. 

And finally did I have a good look at myself in the glass window behind me. 

I looked beautiful. I looked like something I didn't feel. I looked like a movie. 

My shoulders back. Face tilted slightly. My eyes, dark orbs. Green dress swirling out around me. Hands, slightly uncomfortable at my sides. A little mysterious. A little sad. But so... so peaceful. An empty field of green and yellow and pink buds and flowers. Someone who likes to smile. So I smiled. At myself, under my mask, before turning away, and greeted Shirley after her dance with Mr. Dark Prince. 

All too quickly, someone else tapped me for a dance. His hand held out. No words, just expectation. But ahhh, it was my first dance, so I didn't get the hint. My eyes perplexed. People had to explain to me that I was being asked to dance haha. Finally getting the hint, I put my hand on his arm, while holding the other, before we went all in. My new dance partner was just as graceful. Also very very patient. His voice gentle. Are all male dancers so gentle? So smooth?

I felt fragile in their arms. I felt fragile in my spins and my missteps and my sorries. While at the same time, I felt strong, when spinning out my dress. Strong and fragile. Both, at the same time. 

I am both. I am contradiction.

I am a movie that's melting.

Neha, at one point, arrived. Post-gym workout. Looking like a glistening goddess in her bright yellow t-shirt and black running shorts. Sure, she didn't quite match the night's dress code but she walked in like she belonged anyways. 

Her entrance felt like home. 

In a sea of unfamiliar faces, except for Matthew's, and drowning in my own feelings ever so slightly, Neha walking in was like a hug. Like she's coming to pick me up after a long night of fun. Where I had my way. 

"Ngoc, you look so beautiful tonight. Seriously." And I knew she meant it, as she took me in. I mean, who couldn't see it? Pft. I gotta be humble one of these days.

We took a video together. Being all cute under the flower arch. She was convinced that she would come to the second session, but had to return home, shower, and put on her beautiful dancing dress and shoes. So we made our way home in a heart beat. After I grabbed my one very big, Eggslut chocolate chip cookie. Yes. Eggslut. Such a marketing name am I right? Like, who wants to be a slutty egg? Whew. 

"Shall we, Ngoc?" She grinned, offering me her arm. Together, we left the dancers. Out into the night. It felt like only us two, and the world. And the moon. 

The sliver of hope I had had earlier, as thin as the moon's smile tonight, was realized. Surprised out of thin air and held up to the sky, I was feeling myself again, because in that moment, I had everything I needed.

"I needed this dance tonight. Even when I didn't know it yet. And I needed you to waltz in like that and to walk me home like now, Neha. But I knew that already," I said. My voice projected across the driveway roundabout, the Oculus, and Neha, unable to hold it in, let go of an "awwwwww, Ngocccccc." Nuzzling her head against my shoulder.

NehaaaaaaAAAA GUPTAAAAA.

I couldn't imagine a more fitting way to leave a ballroom soiree, than with my suitemate and friend. Our conversation trailed behind us, voices rising and echoing along the buildings. I felt wanted. 

I felt treasured. 

Neha would protect me, after all. 

I dressed out of my beautiful dress. Almost reluctant to pull it off. Wanting it on longer, but I knew I had things to get back to. Urgently! Yet, I found myself eating my delicious chocolate chip cookie in silence. Nothing but cookie thoughts. Then having enough sugar, a name popped into my head. Someone who needed the rest of this delicious cookie more than I did. 

Someone studying hard and doing her midterm. 

I knocked on Garima's door. "GarimaaaAAAAA" I called out. 

Her door opened slightly. 

Her one eye looking back at me. 

"Are you an eggslut, Garima?" 

"Ummm...."

"Because, I got you one myself," I responded to my own question, grinning and raising the thick brown bag that read "Eggslut" on its cover. Inside, a still-warm cookie awaited. About 40% of the cookie remained haaa. 

Perfect chip to cookie ratio which is always chip > cookie. Mind you. 

Her face lit up. Cookie she needed. Chocolate she deserved. Hard at studying she had been. While I grabbed my boba drink from the fridge. Knowing all too well that I was no longer eating mindfully today. Today, I felt like downing sugar for my emotional health. Tomorrow, I would get back on track. Today, I'm 75% sugar baby.

Later, Naina and Nicholas arrived back at the suite. Nicholas had felt it too. He had felt how refreshing it was to do something new, other than studying. He had fun dancing and now being good at something he was uncomfortable at first with, haha. Naina clearly had fun dancing. Face flushed, glowing. Hair voluminous, as if from all the twirling. She later told me that had I had not gone dancing at the soiree tonight, she wouldn't have come. A choice that I had made for myself, out of pure duty to protect my emotional wellbeing, had in its way, rippled through our suite. Neha wanted to return for the second round. Egging herself to go as much as she egged on Naina and Nicholas. Naina looked to me to confirm that it was worth going. Nicholas looked to Neha for a bit more convincing before he decided quickly that yes, he was coming. And later, Garima and I would learn and dance to the jive, to an invisible song and beat known only to us. And when the other three returned, Garima and I would bear witness to all the living room dancing, twisting, and stepping. Everyone a flurry of color. Neha's orange dress and silver, sparkly dancing heels. Her movements practiced and confident. Like a one-woman shiny disco ball. Naina's baby blue dress and soft dancing as she led Nicholas across the floor. My "happy girl" cow pajama dress lost in the fray for a tiny bit. Garima, our most esteemed audience.

Gosh. I guess I'll go against my gut a bit more often hm? :P 

So our suite of 4 was finally united. All 4 of us after DAYS. Plus Nicholas. Hanging out in our living room. Dancing to music Nicholas had picked. Not my type of music but good enough music to boost our living room atmosphere. If it were me, I would have chosen Love Nwantiti. Anywayzzzhaaaa.

While Nicholas went to change, the four of us talked and randomly danced in the sky garden. 

Together, we feel like magic. Like any and all of us could say the wrong things. And we'd each crack each other straight. Laughter and ooos and woahsss. Always. On this 6th floor sky garden. When just two hours ago, I had felt that miserable ride to the 6th floor, wondering if I would be able to be my usual self, laughing often and a little invulnerable, despite the news. So why then am I...

so in love?

I am so in love.

This home of people.

At 3 AM later in the night, I would call my little sister. She would pick up and after summarizing my best everything I had felt today, she reflected back to me what I didn't see. 

"Everything bad and unhappy had been out of your control, Ngoc. But everything that had been good and dreamy and worth remembering were decisions you made yourself. It's as if the universe said 'fuck you,' and then you said, 'no, fuck YOU.' The universe fucked you first but you fucked it second." That's Yen for you. Straight to the throat with her no-shit wisdom. Which is why I will be bearing nothing but gifts for my little shit.

Gosh.

A day that had at one point, promised a level of tragedy.

Became much less tragic. 

My heart is more resilient than I had thought. 

I'm not so much a house of cards. I'm more than that. 

I am fragile. Glass, ready to break anytime. By anyone. 

But just as ready to put myself back together. Into something new with all this love from the people who care about me. 

There was more to today. I promise. 

Did I just attempt at summarizing everything that happened from the moment I woke today, to a little before 10 pm? Yes. 

I did. 

I thank the blood of my ancestors a little and a lot for today. Because, perhaps a part of me, the part of me that's an amalgamation of all my ancestors' past lives. Of everyone who's ever felt as I have. That part knew what to do. That part knew to put on that beautiful dress, heck the work. 

Heck the routine. Let fate decide for me how the night will go. Throw in all the faith I had in myself -- that I'd be okay being the only one I truly knew. Cinderella didn't know anyone at the ball either. ;P

Soiree with strangers for a night. Then come home arm in arm with a good friend. 

Feeling new. Shiny. Albeit a little frayed. But warm, and reflecting the fiery glow of love from my new family here in Singapore. 

May this hug last forever. And withstand any storm.

I am yours.