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Preview: The Musings Of A Teenage Girl

Musings and thoughts

of a deranged unknown.

Updated: 2018-01-22T01:42:03.802+08:00


Break the mirror


heart, and
Broken dreams,
scattered across the floor.

Pieces and remnants of
what could've-
what should have,
lies dead strewn on the moor.

Silly girl, oh silly girl,
break the mirror and never ask for more.

Random Burst of Thought


If I close my eyes now,  and think about it, I feel the sensation bubbling against my eyelids.

there's a build up of feeling, slowly rising, and it's completely dreadful. It's an overwhelming taste of sadness, and longing.

I want you there.

 And I know you want to be there. but you can't.

I know this is for the better, but it does nothing to quell the overwhelming sadness inside of me. I'm sorry.

So if I tear up tomorrow, or cry tonight, it's not cause I'm mad or angry. it's just cause I miss you. and I wanna be with you. I want you to be with me. and I love you, and I know you love me.


it's just cause I'm still learning how to be patient.

Here, But Not Really Here


Tick, Tick, Tick.

Right now, in the early embers of sunlight, she feel afloat.
As finger press on screens, clicking on makeshift keyboards,
she is alive and happy.

In this moment, in this frame of time,
she is completely, exuberantly, fully,

Because He's there.
and the world is now warm, and the air is more crisp,
the view is so much more greener, cleaner, and oh-so-more-beautiful.

Jokes course from neural-digital-neural pathways,
grins and laughs echoing in the chamber of hearts and minds,
a sense of unity and relief, a real show to how they really are:


but then the clock ticks, ticks, ticks away.
and the presses begin to dwindle, and the keyboards click-less, l-ess, l e s s,
and the moment is gone, the time frame nearing to an end.

time's up, the window's closing in,
and that there'll only be sparse light coming through
the frosted pane

and the air, the world, the view, reverts
to what it has lately been.
glimpses of beauty

and he's there, but not really there,
so she's here, but not really here.



"What happened to you? you're seriously messed up"

Green eyes met brown, as raised eyebrows met with pure innocence. Blonde and brunnete stared at each other, waiting and shocked respectively.

"Jeez, I don't know Carmen, I got steam rolled by a bus what did you expect, a perfectly slim body?"

The brunnete snaps to her acquaintance, now touchy, ever so sensitive. Sarcasm dripping out of each letter, tone as sharp as a knife.

" Not what I mean. You weren't messed up, before. You weren't as abrupt as you are now. Look at you, you look like you're ready to jump off brooklyn bridge!"

The blonde avoides the tantalizing bait for the argument, and instead met with the girl's jaded eyes along with her own cocoa.

" You never knew me, so buzz off, and stop pretending."

The Girl On The Bench.


You see a girl.
she's smiling.
You smile at her.
such a wonderful view.

she smiles.

You smile.

she sits on the park bench
under the mysterious sky
smiling fixedly at the world.

You sit next to her,
and You feel content.
she listens and nods to your words.
You feel glad, someone's there.

This girl on the bench.

She doesn't say much,
except to comfort you.
but then,
it rains.

You run for cover,
under a big tree.
You turn back;

expecting her.

but she's

not there.

she's still on the bench.

You stare,


and sit.

she's still on the bench.

You can feel the rain pellets,

soar through the leaves

hitting your back, your arms,

anything in there reach.

she's still on the bench.

framed rigidly,


The rain thunders on.

You're getting drenched.

You need to get real shelter.

before You get sick.

You don't even spare a glance to the girl

the girl who was still on the bench,

smiling fixedly to the world.


A/N: Found this lying in my draft folder, it was dated a few years back, but thought it was a shame to not post.

When you're leaving me, you're the one reassuring me.


I know I've been pushing the boundaries of positivity and optimism lately, with me spewing the 'love solves all' mindset, and that it all comes down to patience and communication.

But truth is, it's still a punch to my gut, whenever I think of you going on that plane, and that I won't be able to see you for a few years. It's the clawing pressure building up against my ribs, that has my eyes water and disgusting snot accumulate all the way through my nasal cavity.

It's like there's something about the moment, when you know someone you care about is going to leave you. even if it's not permanent like death, but oh my god, it just does something to you.

It's done something to me.

I can't even spare a moment to fricken care about anything, about anything at all, but have you lingering in the back of my mind. With practically barely 2 weeks left to go to your impending departure, everything I do each day, now has to atleast come back to thoughts of you.

Are you okay? Will you be okay? How will everything be? How will everything turn out to become?

I'm in love with you. and I trust you. and I oh, so, god, love you, so much.

I'm just deathly terrified.
but you're holding my hand
and that's so right
and yet so wrong.

you're the one leaving, and you're probably scared. but here you are reassuring lil old me.

I don't deserve to have you.

but I'm so glad I do.

In this world, in that world, and in all the rest.


This is for you, the boy with the plaid shirt.The one with the hesitant awkward grin. The one with the bug-eyed expression.The boy who hides behind a veil of silence and hesitation. You don’t have a lot to say most of the times, often opting to listen. Sliding quirky remarks and subtle jokes in conversations, you have a sense of humour that never fails to amuse me. Scarcely fond to other homo-sapiens, your care for animals (scales and all) shakes me out of reality and straight into fantasy-land. Seeing you so fond and the outright light shining in your eyes, the amount of love right there, oh boy, how blessed I am to have you. Let me measure how I love thee. From the tip of your cropped hair to your unshaven beard, from the peak of your amused eyebrows to the tip of your tapping fingers, from the upturned collar to the holes of your socks.Let me count the ways I love you.As a friend I can rest with, complete with eager eyes and witty rapports, As a person I can rely on, with non-wavering hands and quiet support,As a lover that I see myself with, unconventional and silently strong.Oh how I am in love with you. You’re the one that I want, you see. Some people may scoff at me, murmur that I’m being naïve, that no such thing can be said with such certainty. But I feel it, in my bones. With every laughter, smile and even fights, I feel it in my gut, my bones, heck, even my toes. You’re the one that I ruddy want to be with. And if hell breaks loose, and tear us apart, just know that in all the parallel universes, I’m sure one of my alternate selves is with your alternate self. So, really, with that train of thought I’ll always be with you.[...]



It's been a trying first few months, to say the least. From starting a gig as a temporary worker to having hurdles of issues thrown my way, I've been feeling a bit adrift.
Adrift (adj./adv.)
Synonyms: drifting, unmoored, unanchored,
1. Without purposed, direction or guidance.
2. No longer fixed in position.
It's a jarring feeling, having known nothing but a set course, chartered and drawn on the map, and to have the map snatched and taken, crumpled and replaced by another. It's like going from a detailed plan to a scribbled up map by a 3 year old version of yourself. You can generally get the gist of the location, but can't see anything. 

It doesn't help that whenever you think you have it figured out, something new just crops out of nowhere.

For someone who constantly had plans, even contingency plans for these plans, and to have it all proven moot, this was a slap. All my life, I have known where to go, what to pursue, and now standing at this declared precipice, I now stand unmoored.

But then again, that's not really true,

I know where I'm heading. I know the general direction, but I still feel afloat, lacking purpose, lacking real direction because everything is still up in the air. 

and I don't know how I'm gonna get through any of this with all the inconsistent variables, with all this uncertainty. 

but then there really is nothing more to do than to just wait and see. 

Communication is Key


And after that post of mine, that helped crack my armour and let me come clean and just explode at you...

you come in and surprise me, taking my breath away. and prove to me how much I do my own fair share of misdeeds; where I keep quiet and act everything's fine, where I always just assume that you don't care as much as I do, where I just dwell in the concept that it's not possible for someone to care as much as I do.

Oh, how my  pretentious snobbery came to play.  How it amplified my self esteem issues and inability to communicate personally, and made me doubt everything.

and just before our first anniversary to boot.

True, we had our hiccups. but oh, how that day reminded me how much I loved, love and will always love you. Not for the gifts, or the lengths you'd do for me. but for the moments of clarity you always bring in me.

If I could, if I were gifted with the penchant of photography or had a cyborg cerebral implanted in my brain and could record, I could just show you. but alas, I have neither. so I'll just describe them.

It's when you looked at me and hesitantly held my hand to comfort me, how you got excited in the car when you were retelling your stories, how you chose to sing educational songs from History bombs.

You, and your adorkable-ness.

the way you are.

and I just need to remind myself, that all I need to do, is to be open and talk.

be open and communicate.

shouldn't be hard for a Professional Communication and Media major, right?

as if.

and I need to breathe


Is it always going to be like this? Me always waiting on you. Waiting for you. Always waiting.Always the one to initiate. Always the one to try. Always the one vulnerable.Always. Every time I talk about my fears about academia, and if you know anything about me you should know this: academia is a big part of me, you always turn it around to make me feel bad, for this part of me.Always. Always. Always. Me pulling you up by the ropes. Me fighting to prove myself. Me dragging you everywhere.Always, just me. I thought relationships were a two person effort? I though relationships meant sharing my burdens and problems?I thought you were there for me?I understand that you’re going through something, and for the past few months I’ve been rallying up and trying to help, and doing all I can do to help you. Even studying at your place, trying to brighten up your day, trying. Just trying. Coming up with different ideas, or projects, or anything.And yet. You still do your thing. The same redundant things, that you know, doesn’t bring about any change. If you’re not happy with where you are. With what position you are in. do something. Do not moan and beguile. Do not lament and go ‘woe is me’. Do not just give up. You’re allowed a wallowing period, but don’t milk it. Not too much. You are so much more than you give yourself credit for. You’re talented and dedicated, but the problem is… you’re stagnantly stuck in the same routine. In a rut. And that’s cause you’re doing the same thing. Life has given you a difficult situation, I understand. This environment does not sustain or support your kind of intellect. But that is not an excuse to just try.And here I am. Just waiting on you. Again. Just waiting for you to fucking even trywith this relationship. To trust me. But you don’t. not really. Because the sad truth is, if you really wanted me, you’d be trying just as hard as me. And I know, it’s not fair for me to expect you to reciprocate all my efforts or my attempts in this relationship. But god fucking damn it. Could you just even try?You say you will. But you don’t. always. No. you don’t. you don’t got this. You don’t. And I’m getting fed up. You still have me, but for fuck’s sake, could you fucking try.Maybe it’s just me trying too hard, and fooling myself.Yeah, maybe it’s that.[...]

Off my rockers and On Tangent


So, last night, in between counting frolicking sheep doing the cha-cha across the gates, my thought held me hostage. By this, I imagine my thoughts to take human-shadow-like form threatening me at gun-point, tre`-cool, no?To be honest, the way my mind works, it’d be less ala`-taken and more alice in wonderland-esque. As in I followed a white rabbit down a dark danky hole that led me to a land of hysteria, chaos; basically my subconcious is filled with castaway thoughts, hidden worries and broken dreams. What a nice wonderland wouldn't you say?Breaking NewsMayor of Loony Town is basically having a small non-existential crisis, which surrounds her questioning her capability of being in a long-term relationship with the most wonderful guy she's ever been with. As in, I'm bloody scared. It's been a while? you know? and like I am so worried. so very worried and wary of messing things up. cause it's been 8 months and everything's been fine. and I don't wanna screw up. *cue the acoustic version of Been A While - Staind plays in the background* He's not perfect in societal terms, far from it, but there's something about him that makes me feel like... he could be it you know? just. him, with his multitude of smiles; the hesitant one when he's confused, the bright one when he's proud of himself, the shy one when he receives a compliment, and my personal favourite is the one where he really smiles; with his wide grin and lit eyes, and you can practically see laughter in the air around him-yeah, I sound insane, don't I?Yeah. I do.Going off on tangent about someone's smile does make one appear to have gone cuckoo. but I've always been a tad bit off my rockers loco but it's clear to say, I don't wanna mess things up. I really don't. it's just, I feel I will? and I know about self-fulfilling prophecies and I've been trying very hard to be positive,but at night, in between covers and cushioned by my pillow, I can hear them whispering, saying I'm not good enough, that I'd ruin the whole thing, that he's better off without this insecure mess of a girl who loves to read, hates crowds and prefers to stay in.I just... don't wanna mess up. Here's hoping I won't.[...]

A Sense of Surreal


Is this real? You wonder as you scratch, surveying the scene with cursory eyes, Is this really happening? And you see him sitting next to you, and your parents across,And your brothers are in between, and you thinkIs this real?And your hands itch-itch-itch, to hold his hand, as he stutters and stumbles,his mouth parsed with words, brain gearing for the right words in the right languageHe’s trying.And your heart soars, and it sings.Can this be real? An easy grin fights its way up across your face,Ears raising their tips up in the air, And you feel a weightless light flow through you,Maybe... this is real?Your heart rattles and beats against the cage,And your hands are clammy, and your mouth is dry,And words echo alongside your sporadic heart beat;Please, please, please- Please, let this be real. [...]

A lack of a lack


It's in the small moments,
when you're washing the dishes,
or dusting the cabinets,
just an awareness of a lack of a lack.

suddenly you're aware of how empty you were
and how this emptiness was always routine,
that you never paid heed to its presence

like a hole near a wall, that you've walked past day by day,
and you never knew it was there, 'till it wasn't.

cause now you're filled.
over flowing, to the brim,
content and happy

and when his arms creep around you,
and his chin rests on your shoulder,
your mouth stretches taut:

a smile bursting at it's seams

The Pull.


Have you ever felt that heart twisting feeling?
Like a pull that clenches and your chest feels twisted and tight?
like gravity has grown an arm and phased through your rib cage,
and now holds your heart, hooked it's fingers on the muscles and just..


I did. Just now,
When he zipped his bag, and walked away, without a single glance,
When his spine was firm, and his arms agitated, and his thoughts loud,
When his steps were sure, and striding away away away from me, I felt it,

the pull.

and in an instant, when I saw him round the corner,
the instant I saw him disappear from my eyesight,
when I saw him gone.

I lurched. grabbed my stuff, followed him,
trying to catch him, trying to get him
followed him.

followed the pull.

and when I finally caught up, the pull was there. the pull so insistent.

and I knew what that pull was.
-that I'd do anything to fix it, to correct my wrong, to un-do the hurt I had caused him.

the pull of being in love, falling in love,
the pull of love,

The Fall


...and it's a weird feeling now,
 your face is nor your own and
tugging and stretching,

Pulling Taut The String

your body does things of its own accord
your stomach is fluttering, almost flittering here and there,
and your palms are itchy and flailing arms,

Increase Surface Area; reduce Pressure

malfunctioning-your heart clenches and plunges,
it twists and churns and you know,
cause when you close your eyes, and think,
your mind draws up a picture so easily
like, and you know-


this is how you fall,

will fall, are falling, have fallen

in love.

Puddles and Cards


Cover cards, hold them in one hand.
Closed and far away from prying eyes.

Taking in the situation, worn out eyes overthinking every turn, angle, crook and cranny. She can’t help it. This is who she is. Wary and cautious.

Late night, cars and-

Sort the cards, try to figure out the best combination, the best fit. With the least loss.

But how can she, when her head’s a mess, filled with imbalanced equations and non-answers, with turnarounds and take-backs, with what ifs and whys. And she doesn’t know the best course of action.

“We’ll save that for later-”

Re-arrange the cards, try and look at all different possibilities, and narrow them into probabilities.

Too many unknown variables, too many details left blank, how can she decide?

Hesitant smile, green plaid, and-

Hold, wait. Think.

What, how, what, ho-

Stumbles, Puddles and- oh.


“Would you- like to go out with me?”


A shout into the Void


Marching for the beat of 5


The march starts before it’s time,
Marked not with the dinging of an alarm,
or the ticking of the clock’s arm.

No, instead it’s with the muffled patter of feet,
A stealthy scrimmage across your peripheral vision;
the first sign.

crossing past the lobby-
exit, load, unload, enter-
quick and swift, past glass doors, glass walls;
the second sign.

Shadows now march, emerging from transparent caves
Quietly queue-ing, passing through, without a sound,
The Third Sign

One, Two, 
Three, Four, Five

March for the beat of 5.

The Internship


It's been a hectic few weeks,
and the days are beginning to blend,
becoming a slow unnerving pulse of routine.

After months of waiting and hunting for an internship, finally obtaining one felt like a miracle, really a reprieve from the dullness of doing nothing. However, after months of simply 'being', and suddenly thrown into a glass walled building, and given mountain of work?

Yeah. It took me a while. The first few days, I felt myself sapped of energy. I hated the glass walls, I hated the punch card, and other than that, I also hated the work. I hated everything about it.

but then, routine settled, and I started to find my footing. Slowly got leverage, and balanced.

I still hated the glass walls,
but I began to like my work.
I still hated the punch card,
but I began to find myself adjust to time.
I still hated the environment,
but I felt myself begin to understand why it was the way it was.

Simply put? Working in a private company had an equation. Money = Time.

The more time you spent working, meant more money coming in. The more work you get done in an alloted time, meant more money. So, if you did a lot of work in a lot of time, that would equate to a lot of money.

Or in this case, do as much as possible in 8 hrs a day, 6 days a week, and you get much more money than before.

Comparing this experience with my past internship experience with the government?

Well, that would be a whole winded post, that I'll divulge, next time.
For now, I have to type in a logbook, and post it on another website. Sorry dear blog of mine, I have another.

but my heart and mind belongs to this one.

The One Who Hates Changes; Qeel.

Everything Eventually Ends


this is life, you think.
and your hand itches,
and your ears squeemish,
as you hear a story unfold.

of a tale, of two best-friends
torn-apart, distant and colliding
with one another, breaking bonds
and fraying all olive branches,
all beyond any sort of repair

"I can't take this anymore, I have to leave."

and you hear an uproar in your mind as it races,
and squirms as you push for an answer, a solution
you just need to think of something smart, something fast,
some sort of miracle cure, that will fix this gap.
You open your mouth wish to say:

"Let me try to fix this. You both-"

Instead you say: 

A jumbled up wire


I hate this. This being my inability to communicate or handle my inner turmoil. I wish I could pile it up according to the severity of feelings, find the root cause and categorize, dismantle, and cleanly solve it. To precisely understand how I am and what I feel.It's moment like these that I clean and re-organize my closet/kitchen/toilets/bedroom.except, I've done it, a lot, that it's lost the numb I've resorted to this. I know usually I write and absolve the feelings, like when the problems are big. but lately, I've been personally adamant in not facing this. like just focus on my destination. Put autopilot on, and just drive. signal. brake. drive. Life, as usual though, had other plans. It's created this complex traffic pile up, with all these surprise road signs and broken traffic lights.and now, my car's at a full stop, and I have to pay attention. It's a lot like having a wounded up jumbled piece of wire looped around itself that you have to untangle or you can't breathe. and right now, well, I feel like I can't breathe. and I'm suffocating.  Like dominos are falling down a piece at a time, and the last tile is going to make the very foundation of my fragile sanity give way.It's actually funny really, writing this right now, I can feel my stomach gnawing and my brain race.the most prominent are sadness and regret.Both of them are tangled and twisted around one another, I can't even tell where one begins or where the other ends. It's seeped into every single happy file I have, tinged it with outlines and squiggles. They're both persistent and arguably could be said the most redundant theme of my life. Adding weight to my ever growing load, and my back is starting to ache. It's a burdensome weight, but it is what it is. The truth is:I'm stuck. in the sea of squiggles. here. at home, in this shell of a country. Always here. never there.[...]



a rumble,
a growl,
a hiss


Simmer and wait for slow boil, till then-

a rumble,
a growl,
a hiss



Again, and again, and again


It happens quickly and slowly at the same time,
it's a torrid and beautiful affair, that transcends all logical and scientific explanation. 

You were there. 
in your splendid disastrous glory,
for a faction of a second,

You were there. 

and my heart skipped a beat,
jumping, tilting of the axis
 like a sailor going overboard-

called, coaxed, entranced by the siren of the sea.

You are the siren of-

(Would saying 'my sea' be cheesy and totally uncalled for?)

You are the siren of the sea.

(There, that gives you an omnipotent mysterious air, that you had always strived for, no?)

but you're gone. and it doesn't make sense.
that even just the hint, even a very misplaced
and misguided hint,

Years, and years, and years,

sends my head into a spiral mess of emotions, 
my heart into a disarray of mis-tempo-ed beats, 

cause you're gone.

but i'm still in love with you.

Just a lil more


Shaking Hands, Trembling Fingers and-

Grasping, Clenching, and-


What you want to see, and when you actually see it


There's a difference between believing in something and actually living it.

No matter how many times one can sprout sayings, argue beliefs and understand a set of morals, one can not truly understand what it is to actually live by them.

For days now, I've been trying to live by a mindset: See the world not as it is, but as it could be.

and let me tell you this, it's harder than it looks. To follow this. 

Cause when the whole world is being negative and just against you, it's hard to assume the possibility of positivity. when bad simply fills up your vision, it's hard to see the small acts of good. when all around you is pain, you can't believe there is relief.

All these weeks, you've been in pain and hurt, and no matter how many salves you use, there's still a sting. and only now, you've figured out that maybe it was because you were holding back, because you were preparing yourself, because you were afraid.

Afraid that people would leave again. Afraid that people would look at you, and think. "Meh, I could do better.". Afraid that you aren't enough.

and although, your other friends have helped mend you, it's these that you are still afraid of.  not that you're not afraid of the other friends leaving you. but these are the ones you are deathly afraid, cause they don't know you, as you are, 

the dark shadow that lives in the crevices of your mind
the morbidly grey morale that seeps into all the decisions you make
and also the sinister sadistic tyrant that lives in between all the smiles you give.

but there are moments, though. moments when you can believe in it. 

it comes with an easy laugh, a lowering down of defences, and an open conversation. It's when you let go of the possibility of them leaving you, from just a glimpse, at how truly irrevocably broken you are.

it's when you actually do,

see the world, not as it is, but as it could be.