JFC

When I woke up today, I had excruciating stomach cramps and I vomitted and had the runs for half the day. I went to the clinic and was suspected of having appendicitis so got referred to accidents & emergencies. At the hospital, they decided it was stomach flu and put me on a drip to give me medicine. My mum was driving me home and I was sleeping in the car when we drove into another car. Both cars look quite bad. My mum is settling insurance claims with the other driver and I'm in a cab home alone. This has been the longest, strangest, most painful Friday in a while. What even......

AN EXERCISE IN IMAGINATION

Imagine that there is an 18-year-old girl who gets with an 18-year-old guy, and he gets her pregnant. Imagine that the boy's mother wants them to abort the foetus, but the girl can't do so because this was three decades ago and technology hadn't yet caught up to make it available at the term of pregnancy. Imagine that they are each from a conservative religious family, who care about what people say, so they get married to have the child. Imagine that when the child was born, she doesn't remember much from her toddler years, except shuttling back and forth between where her maternal grandparents lived, and where her paternal grandparents lived. She puts it aside. Imagine that when she was seven, and her baby sister was a year old, the original 18-year-old boy and girl, who are by now twenty-five, have a bitter and unhappy marriage, not least because the guy has cheated on the girl one too many times, and this time, he has a son. Imagine that the 25-year-old man now is asked by his son's mother, to marry her, which he doesn't, but this causes enough strife in his marriage, that they get divorced. Imagine that their daughter goes to school, completely unfocused and distracted from studying, because her family is dysfunctional and there are always money issues, and fights between her parents, even though they are already apart. She puts it aside. Imagine that, for between two to three years, in her transition from teenagehood to early adulthood, her mother is diagnosed with stage three cancer, which is not an individual struggle, and that her family, which now has two toddler daughters, now has to fight alongside their mum. Imagine, one day, at twenty-five, she meets a man she really likes, whom she confides in about her family, and how she feels about people cheating, and oh, how she feels an intellectual connection with him. Imagine she finds out that he is engaged to be married, and he was using her, without her even knowing about it. She puts it aside. Imagine when, barely a month later, the twenty-six-year-old daughter finds out her father is still cheating, something that has spanned at least two decades, from the time she was six, to the time she is twenty-six, and her youngest half-sister, her father's youngest child, was barely a month old. Imagine that the boyfriend of the lady who had been receiving sexual advances tells the twenty-six-year-old to mind her father's behaviour. She puts it aside, because that is all she can do and all she has been doing. Imagine that the 26-year-old girl finally decides to take a break, and she goes to LA, because she'd been there once with her best friend, and she really liked it. Imagine she falls in love with a man who was not right for her, something that was quite obvious to everyone else who met her on that trip, both that she had fallen in love with him, and that he was not right for her. Imagine that he got her pregnant, and then she had a miscarriage, and she feels about a million different things, intensely, because she has always been an intense person. Imagine he doesn't want the child, because it was not in his plan, and imagine that the man had the option of being nice to her, yet he clean ignores her except when it suits him and when he is feeling frisky. She puts it aside. Imagine that her mother, who was the person originally pregnant out of wedlock, tells her to be ashamed and apologise for having premarital sex, and imagine that her mother tells her it is a good thing that she miscarried, even though she started being really depressed only after her miscarriage. Imagine that, instead of feeling like she deserves to receive therapy for all the issues she's faced her entire life, all she feels is guilty and that she should pay her mother for existing, and for being a burden. Imagine that, as isolated incidents in a person's life, all these different things might be within a person's ability to handle, but imagine you were me. How much are you able to put aside?

CINQUE TERRE

I was wondering whether it would be possible to either cultivate a bacterium that would only eat all the plastic that has accumulated in the oceans, while harming no other ocean life, or if we could program something else that could function the same. Or we could collect all the waste in the oceans and obliterate it in space or just release it. Why don't we do that? There is massive amounts of space in space, isn't there? Why don't we do that? Actually, I think the launching-waste-to-space idea has already been asked and disproved of, so now we're down to creating bacteria that does exactly as we'd like it to.

YONG TAU FOO

Sometimes I wish I had the guts to just say what I want to say to my mum. It's funny how everyone else has a different impression of me than my mum does. Sometimes I want to tell her, it's not on me that she struggles with money. She complains about not getting money (for like, a month) from me and I hate it, I know she's comparing me to perhaps my cousins or best friends or peers or whatever and sometimes I just want to yell at her, but I never do. I want to scream that all my peers had and still have parents who helped them out monetarily in terms of educational endeavours or whatever. My peers still owe and are paying off their parents for their undergraduate studies, or their parents never even regarded it as a loan, etc. I don't owe my mum for my education, nothing at all. And where my peers have parents that have saved money for their weddings, or for property for them, or generally whatever they might need, all my mum does is whine when I haven't given her cash for a month. Like it's somehow my fault she made the unwise decision to have two more kids when she clearly wasn't even financially ready to handle her first two. Also, as much as I'm ranting about my mum, my dad is just as useless. I feel like he treats my half-brother Ira as a trophy son. Ira deserves to feel like a trophy, I think coming from his own family background that was also just as broken as mine and not even knowing who his father was until he turned 18, he still did great in school and I'm proud of him. I just hate my dad lauding it sometimes, I feel like, hello you played no part in his upbringing nor his studies, so his success is his own and his mum's, and you didn't contribute to it except in his conception. I honestly don't know if I will ever be able to reconcile the fact that I do not respect my parents.

IDGAF

Why do I even cry over men? I'm done. Dua Lipa is right, I mean, men don't want to go through the bad times with you, they don't need to be in your life. When you're finally happy and settled, they all come crawling back. Geez. I'm so done with this shit. My life is waiting for me. I have no space in it or patience for any man who can't go through hardship, which is all men. Bye, bitches.

GREY'S ANATOMY

Today at work, most of my colleagues asked if I was okay, without directly asking about what had happened. I talked to and laughed with them and I wanted to hug them, and every time I said I was okay, I know that's another day to add to my not being okay, and. And I love my family at work so much, and I wish we all enjoyed our job much more, as much as we love each other and each other's company. Every time someone asked if I was okay, I felt their concern and now I'm crying again. I have been left so many times, I feel more scared than anything else, of letting myself be vulnerable. I wonder if I can ever really say I will be okay with being alone. I wish I had had love, and felt unwavering love from my parents so that I would have confidence in my own self-worth. But I don't. I wonder if I am so different that I cannot be loved. I'm out.

KEEP BREATHING

I want to change the world
instead, I sleep
I want to believe in more than you and me
all that I know is I'm breathing
all I can do is keep breathing
all we can do is keep breathing

all we can do is keep breathing
all we can do is keep breathing
all we can do is keep breathing

Okay so it's back, I'm full on weeping while the world spins madly on. When I'm in New York, I hope to bump into Ingrid Michaelson or Sara Bareilles or the grand jackpot of Lin-Manuel Miranda. I mean, given the shitshow of the past three years I've had, I think it is high time my good juju returns. Please. Please, God, please. Or universe. Or other people. Just, please.

CHEDDAR

Ben and I broke up. It is official, we just broke up because we're not in the same place and it's too difficult and there are too many things to figure out. I guess this is the healthiest thing for me now. It was a good run, now I'll just have to see how long it is before I delete the Instastory highlights tab I have of him. I sort of want to leave it there, because it makes me happy and I want to keep my memories of him, but I also know it might prevent me from moving on. I don't think I'll delete the things I have of him. I'm okay, though, better than I would usually be. I think it might even be because he's been such a good man and a good person and all around treated me so well, but I really do wish him nothing but the best. Obviously, I did cry after we broke up, but I've stopped. If you're my friend and reading this, please don't ask me about Ben, please, please, thank you very much.

PUSHEEN

Yesterday, while watching The Incredibles 2, I started getting period cramps so I left the theatre but before I could get painkillers or a hot drink, it just hurt so bad I had to go to the toilet. It was then even more painful and cold I laid down on the floor of a public toilet cubicle and stayed there for an hour, before I summoned the last bit of my energy to move to a nursing room and napped for another hour. I know not everybody gets such bad cramps but I wish everyone would, at least once, just so you can empathise what it feels like. Viv is flying back from Sydney, where Advil is available, so I'm asking her to get some for me for future periods. I don't know why even painkillers need to be unattainable for me before they work. My brain and body are in cahoots for me to want to die. Geez.

YOLO

Last night, I was washing my face when it actually really dawned on me that life is short, and I only have one shot at it. My time is already very temporary, and if I end it myself it will be even shorter than it could, would have been. Regardless of whether it is my own doing, my life will end. Sometimes I guess I want to end it because life and the world get really difficult to live in and live with, but my death doesn't make a difference to it being difficult. I want to see whether it gets better, I want to see if the world can crawl out of this shithole, and if it doesn't, it's okay, because we are all going to die anyway. I don't know if this is the default mindset everyone has, and sometimes when I'm in the frame of mind to see my life through, I really hope it continues and I follow through, but I really sometimes get very affected by curveballs, and I can feel like two extremes of a rollercoaster, so although I do wish I could control my feelings and attitude, I am easily thrown off. That needs to get fixed, if possible.

I WANT MY CHILDREN BETTER THAN ME

      American journalist Nikole Hannah-Jones writes about the racial segregation and inequalities of schools in contemporary USA. There are many things about the American case that are unique to that society, but there are also many inequalities there that are mirrored elsewhere. In a 2017 interview, Hannah-Jones spoke about something that was deeply moving. She had placed her daughter in a public school that is perceived as a terrible school even though she has the means to place her in a different, 'better' school. A lot of people thought she was making an odd choice. But for her, it is a moral issue—what is at stake goes beyond her child's well-being. If she put her child in a private school, she would be doing what many middle and upper-middle class parents are doing—undermining the integrity of the public school system with their flight. She puts it this way: "It is important to understand that the inequality we see, school segregation, is both structural, it is systemic, but it's also upheld by individual choices. ... As long as individual parents continue to make choices that only benefit their own children... we're not going to see a change."
      A lot of my research and writing in the past decade have been about institutions and policies. I have talked primarily about how we need to rethink the principles underlying our policies if we want to see more equal outcomes. I still believe that if we want to see significant change, we need to have collective action, we need to work to alter big structural things—rules, regulations, criteria, principles underlying policies. But doing this more recent research, I am also continually reminded that life is lived at the micro level, at the level of everyday decisions, everyday interactions, everyday exercise of power and agency and responses to constraints and restraints.
      Nikole Hannah-Jones is a tough act to follow. She is right to say that inequalities are also reproduced by the individual choices of those who have the power to make choices. This implies an extremely uncomfortable conclusion for those of us in positions to make choices: the choices we make, even when we think are just about us, are in fact also about others.
      We who have the power to make choices disproportionately shape outcomes and limit options for people who don't have the power to make choices.
      It follows that if we don't share the power to make choices, we will never see a change to those things we say are bad or unacceptable to our society. When those of us who have the means maximize our own children's and our own families' advantages, we are contributing to strengthening norms about achievement, success/failure, that undermine our fellow citizens' well-being. Everyone may say "I want my children better than me," but not everyone can see this to fruition nor have the same impact on standards and norms when they do.
      As parents, we must therefore think very carefully about what we are doing when we demand that teachers assign more homework, when we ask questions about what standard our kids' peers are at, when we micro-manage our kids' lives, when we pay for tutors, when we fight to get our kids into certain schools.
      Equally if not more important, we must ask what we are allowing to perpetuate when we do not resist a system many of us can now see is deeply problematic. If those higher in the social hierarchy, ahead in the pack, refuse to pause and change their ways, the call to extend assistance to the low-income or to 'level up' will continue to ring hollow.

      Embedded in what I have said lies inherent conflict in class interests as well as the potential for class solidarity. Regardless of class, everyone is subject to state policies on education. It is becoming increasingly clear that a high-stakes, examination-oriented education system exerts costs on parents and kids across the class spectrum.
      We should care because we are losing potentially valuable human resources. We will all grow old in societies populated by other people's children; our well-being depends on their capabilities (economists such as Nancy Folbre have thus argued for seeing children as public goods. See Folbre, 1994). We contribute to public education precisely because there are collective returns on this expenditure. To enhance our shared well-being, we have an interest in ensuring that all kids growing up in our society can fulfill their human potential.
      The circumstances and experiences of low-income families reveal the deep inequalities embedded in our education system—the focus on narrow definitions of abilities, the demand for precocity, the reliance on parental involvement and commercial services, together undermine the democratic promise and potential of mass education. As a society, we speak loudly and proudly about meritocracy and equality of opportunity. As a matter of ethics and morality, we should all care about the undermining of these promises, and we should fight to resist this erosion of our shared ethos.
      The requirement of narrow ways of being, of precocity, are not easy to attain for any child. The financial costs, the time expended, the harms done to familial relationships, the stresses exerted on our children—these are significant. In the long run, all of us must ask: to what end? Is it worth it?

—reproduced from This Is What Inequality Looks Like by Teo You Yenn

Ask me and I will lend it to you, or if you'd like, I will buy you a copy.

TAHANI AL-JAMIL

Yesterday, Qis from work asked whether anyone had ever told me I was zen, because she thinks I'm zen. Cheryl thinks I'm mellow, Kyrene thinks I'm chill, and now Qis calls me zen. It's strange, because if you know me and read my words, I don't think zen is apt in describing me. Yet, for nine hours every day, the people I'm around think that is precisely what I am. I wonder why. Maybe it's my thoughts and disposition towards work that make me act more calmly and I could adopt that attitude in other areas of my life. I would love to be zen, though, my mother is still high-strung and dramatic, so I would love to be mellow instead. Perhaps it is that my mother is high-strung and dramatic that I reflect and mirror it in environments apart from work, I cannot be zen if my familial counterparts do not set an example for me to either mirror or absorb. In any case, I used to date a guy called Zack, and I bumped into him last week. Given how small Singapore is, it is a wonder he is the first ex-date I've bumped into. He read that I wasn't talking to Ben so he messaged me to make the first move to talk to Ben first. How quaint it is, to receive dating advice from someone I used to date. Does this stuff only happen to me? Ben said he needed space, and that's why he wasn't talking to me, but after this morning, we talked again, I think we've decided to give this a real shot, maybe until the next hiccup comes along. Zack and I said we might try to hang out platonically in future, and I'd never thought that was possible but perhaps if a mutual care and concern exists more than attraction does, it will work. Last night, I'd told my sisters I might have a bad night if Ben says he wants to end things and my sister Lyssa said "no way, he could not let you go" and I told Ben this morning, we had a right laugh. I love my Ben. (For some reason, my sisters have a pet name for him and it's Bernard - pronounced BerNard to rhyme with Hard.)

DAYA

My period is late. There is no cause for concern, I haven't gotten any since Ben left, hehehe. I'm guessing it's just delayed 'cos of my extreme lows in the past two weeks and I was kinda sorta a nervous wreck in the lead-up to emceeing for my best friend's wedding. I just don't like when my period is late 'cos then you feel bloated and whatever. At the moment, immigrant children are being detained, separated away from their parents and families, and I wonder why anyone would want to continue living in this precise world and timeline. The people I come into frequent contact with, the ones I interact with on a daily basis, I don't think they know what is going on. Or, on the off-chance they do know, I don't think they care, because they're still talking about other things. I don't fault them for it, because even if I were surrounded with people like myself, what can we do? Human rights issues have deteriorated since Trump was elected (not by the popular vote, I may never let go of this) two years ago, and people have protested, and called up senators and talked about it, but nothing much changes. Today I feel on the slightly more positive side, sometimes I feel so overwhelmed and heavy and drained and I want to end it all, but, when I'm not at the point of acknowledging the futility of life, sometimes I really think I am quite rare. I allow myself to think and feel the entire spectrum, it's like I am the mental health and spiritual epitome of "go everywhere / do everything". One day something might tip me over the edge, maybe not. Ben used to say (I say used to say because at the moment we are not talking), "you deserve the life you dream of" and maybe if I hold on just long enough, I will find I can achieve the life I dream of. Perhaps not.

CHECK OUT

I was an emcee for my best friend's wedding, my period is supposed to be here in the vicinity of today's date, so I feel really bloated, I had a fall-out with Ben (not to say that we don't love each other, because even now, even when we're not supposed to be talking, we do love each other and still say it), because that shit happens, I felt so many feelings along with being proud of Atiqah for having done it all, that include feeling really much like Phoebe, Joey and Rachel did in Friends, and that's being financially unable to keep up with my best friends, I want to really take a break from life and socialising, but there is one final wedding in mid-July I'm attending, and then I would really like to take a break. I want and need all the me-time.

CHECK YES JULIET

I went to the Institute of Mental Health this morning, accompanied by Viv. I told the doctor, who was a Singaporean Chinese male (which may or may not have contributed to his diagnosis), everything I had been feeling, and he says from what I told him, he doesn't think I am depressed. I haven't been feeling tired enough to remove myself from work and not participate in life, I still eat, and most importantly, I have not harmed myself despite feeling a lack of enthusiasm for life and living, so I am not in need of immediate attention. When he asked whether I had ever gotten into trouble with the police, I said my mum disapproves of me and she is a police officer. He clearly hadn't expected it and he guffawed loudly, so then I wondered whether he thinks I am not depressed also because I was cracking jokes, although sometimes I think the funniest people are clearly the most depressed. That he doesn't think I have a mental illness was somewhat a relief, that he didn't even really make any appointment for me to see a therapist was not comforting. I will not assume to know better than a qualified mental health professional to say I am certifiably depressed, but I wonder if he thinks the default state in life is to be aimlessly wandering, that he doesn't even think it's a problem that I don't find life fulfilling. Also, like in most other social aspects, Singapore is most definitely lagging behind in mental health, so perhaps I should seek a second opinion. I told Viv and Ben my diagnosis, and they were both also surprised. I also told Ben the amount I paid for the session, I said it more to like be sarcastic about how useful it was (I paid XXX for him to tell me I'm not depressed), but Ben instantly sent the exact amount to me on PayPal. In USD! Which means I made a profit??? I told Viv this and we wondered if he really went to Harvard. Perhaps his certificate is forged, his Spanish module cert is definitely dubious.. I am kidding, of course, I suppose he really wanted a buffer just in case my finances are tight, but I am just always so pleasantly surprised that Ben is so kind and so reliable. In my previous experiences with men, they do not often measure up to your expectations, which are usually the bare minimum you'd expect of a decent human being. Three nights ago, my sisters did the sweetest, most wonderful thing. The youngest knocked on my door, then said the three of them had something to say to me in the living room. When I got there, they said they had decided to spend thirty minutes each day, to have sister time with me, to help me to feel less depressed so I wouldn't want to end my life. That was the most adorable thing so that's what we've been doing, we watched Aladdin and Mulan and Alex Strangelove on Netflix, on three consecutive nights. After my session today, Viv and I had breakfast then I went to her office and read while she worked, before my shift started.

I have been reading This Is What Inequality Looks Like, by a Chinese female sociologist and university professor at NUS, the top university in Singapore. It has been making waves on local social media and has been lauded by academics even in the US, for the parallels that you can find regarding inequalities in many nations. On the one hand, I am glad that all the privileged Chinese people on my island are finally paying attention. The Singapore government likes to pride itself on being clean and green and shiny, it refuses to acknowledge the deep cracks in the system, the fact that meritocracy is not meritocracy if the starting line is not the same. The professor who wrote the book sounds almost surprised, while doing her research, that there are many families who struggle in Singapore, who have to make do with letting all their kids sleep on a single mattress in a one-room flat, that some of them, some of us have bed bugs at home, that we have to boil water to have warm showers, et cetera et cetera. These families being discussed are unfortunately mostly of my race. Of course, recently I have subscribed to the notion that you shouldn't have kids unless you can afford to, but if rich people and poor people actually really subscribed to it, the rich would continue to perpetuate and the poor would die off through not much fault of their own, and that is a true injustice. Also, it is funny that this Chinese woman says it and suddenly it's like the gospel truth when it has been said by my people for decades, and only taken as whining and complaints. Look, if I had received the same education that she had, I would be just as eloquent, and I would have as much platform and agency. But no --- my people are not heard because they are not well-educated enough to air their grievances in a way that, somehow, I have been blessed that I am able to. For months and years, I have said that I want to improve myself, I want to study, or get a better job, or a better-paying job. People give me advice as if I haven't been trying, as if it doesn't depress me every time I am told I interviewed well and yet am still rejected. People, usually Chinese people with paper qualifications, tell me that firms are no longer looking at just certificates, but it's funny, because despite that being the only difference, I have still not managed to level up. Why, if companies really believe that degrees are not everything, have I not seen it in any action so far? I am a smart person and I am aware of this, so before you give me well-meaning advice to exploit this, that or the other, please give me enough credit by believing that I have tried, and failed, and tried and failed, again and again.

PACIFIC COAST HIGHWAY

After reading the last post, Viv texted me to say she would also assist me monetarily in seeking therapy, and I can treat it like a mental health Patreon (it's a platform for creators and artists) so she can keep reading my words on this blog and eventually perhaps even my novel. It wasn't her intention but I cried at her text. I agreed to see a therapist, so maybe later I'll go check the IMH website. I don't know what the trigger for this is, but I know from experience and from reading materials, that sometimes there just is no trigger. I keep recalling my mother saying it is a good thing I had the miscarriage because I would otherwise have had to live with the burden of a child conceived out of wedlock, and then I recall again that I was that child to her, and that she had to keep me because it was too late for her to do anything else. I think about my grandmother saying I shouldn't be saying these things on the internet, like these are shameful things, and I wonder if there is something wrong with me that I don't feel ashamed. I'm exhausted and I don't want to exhaust anyone else. Every night someone has to monitor me to see that I don't do anything to hurt myself. Every night someone asks me to make plans for the next day and the next day and the next so that I don't die that night, so that I make it to my next day's plans. But for what? What is this all for? I don't know what the payoff is. I feel like it takes a lot of effort to keep me going and I don't know if it's worth the payoff. I don't know if life sucks because it sucks this much for everyone and I'm weak or it sucks more for me because my brain and body just don't produce the same amount of chemicals that other people do. I had a talk with a best friend about this, I asked if she would forgive me if I took my own life, and she said she would be so angry at me, but she eventually would. I am very tired of being strong for anyone else and even for myself. This is exhausting.

QWERTY

I was talking on the phone and crying about Anthony Bourdain and Kate Spade. Ben asked me to see a therapist, to which I said I just needed to save enough money to take a break. Ben said I could do both, so I said if I see a therapist, I wouldn't be able to save to take a break. He said he would send me money to see a therapist, and although I don't see myself accepting it, he told me to think about it and now I just keep tearing, by myself. He really does love me. I think when you have parents who haven't shown their love by being supportive and encouraging and solid, it is very hard to believe that people can really love you. One of my earliest memories was of myself at a single-digit age, perhaps 5 or 6, and my real dad scolding me and making me stand on my chair in the restaurant throughout the meal. I know sometimes people think kids don't know anything, but things like that can and will probably stay with your child for a lifetime. The thing is, while my father did that, I realise my mother did not even dare to stand up for me and stop him. What a weird man. I hope his five other kids have better futures than I do.

IMHO

I love Anthony Bourdain's show, Parts Unknown. I also love Kate Spade's bags and colorful designs. It sucks to know they both took their own lives this week. I used to be scared of committing suicide when I believed in God and hell, because I believed what they said, that taking your own life was the greatest sin and you'd be in hell for eternity. Now I no longer believe in hell. Now I think and think about how tired I am, and how I want to just take a break from work, I want to take a break from life, but I can't because I cannot afford to rest, I don't come from a family that affords any rest for anyone. I wish my eternal rest would come soon. I am in a cab home from doing shipment at work, today I wanted to write about the things I am grateful for, but I cannot come up with any and I just want to sleep.

QUID PRO QUO

I am constantly growing and learning. I must be lenient towards myself, and towards everyone else, while they are growing and learning. Life is chess, not checkers. I like the person I am even if it is difficult, even when times are difficult and my life is difficult and even as I struggle. I like it, and I do not want it to end, despite my unending tiredness. There are a myriad of layers to my person and nobody else can be me better than I can. When I was much younger, I believed wholesale in what the government would tell me, things like prisons keep society safe, and then I realised I had close family members in jail, and that the odds are stacked, that sometimes it's so hard to make ends meet, even when you put in the same or more effort as anyone else but are not guaranteed the same results, that you turn to a life of crime, anyway. I mean, of course, if the system fails you even though you play by the rules, you will lose faith in the system. I used to believe in the concept of virginity, then I realised if anyone judges you based on what you do with your body, whether you sleep around or are a sex worker or you dress like a different gender from the one you were assigned at birth, then the person judging you needs to grow, because you are much more than your body, much more than just whether you touch someone's hand or kiss their mouth or allow their penis into your body. You are what your heart does and feels. I used to believe that some part of me must be a golddigger of some sort, because I heard tropes of Asian women going out with white men for their money. Then I realised, if I, as an Asian woman, have been brought up by people who still control what I wear at 28, who still tell me not to stay over at a man's place at night, if my best friends and most of my social circles get told the same thing, then no matter how much Asian men deny it, they have been brought up with very similar values, at least those in Singapore. And if my best friends and family members don't question these things, then chances are, neither do the men. Only I break out of this mold, because I'm tired of this. I'm tired of living in a country that tells its society it is ungrateful to be displeased, when there is no minimum wage in Singapore, when there is a government that raised the retirement age by 10 years to 65, meaning the 20% of our income that goes to them (the CPF) every month, will still never belong to its people, that means that its citizens will have to work forever, and never be able to spend and enjoy what is rightfully theirs, in their prime ages. I'm tired, I'm tired, I'm tired.

BAGGAGE RESTRICTIONS

I watched Her with Ben last night, we shared a screen on Google Hangouts. It is one of my favorite films, but it also overwhelms me with so many feelings I cannot take it all in one session. Sometimes I think I am better off alone, because I tend towards instability and I don't want to bring that into anyone else's life. Cheryl, my work friend/senile grandmother at work, asked how and why I seem so contented all the time, and I said I wasn't contented, so she asked how I seem so mellow all the time then. I think I keep a lot of things inside and write, and then I weep. I'm feeling a lot of things so I would really appreciate if nobody asked me anything.

UNDER ARMOUR

I am in a cab to accompany my sister Lyssa to the breast clinic at KKH. She's got an appointment 'cos she has lumps in her breasts so the clinic is doing follow-up checks to know what they are, although the doctor did say there is probably nothing to worry about. My sister is one of my favorite people in the world, the other being my grandmother, and she is probably half the reason why I'm still here in Singapore, the other being my grandmother. My sister has bouts of depression because she lost the people closest to her from a very young age. Sometimes I think she isn't as strong as I am, sometimes I think I couldn't be as strong as her. I hope my sister is fine, because I am way too tired for any other scenario. I think about my mother when she battled stage three cancer, and I think my mother is also an exceptionally strong woman, and I know this, I held her in my arms when she was at her frailest, throwing up nothing but bile in the middle of the night, and I think my mother did not ask to get cancer, did not want to get hardened from the experience. And yet get hardened, she did. She doesn't believe in her own human strength, so she attributes it to a god. She thinks she was saved by the grace of a god she cannot see, and she would like all of us to be graced by the same god. Lyssa and I have always joked about the odds of one of us getting breast cancer, my mother has four daughters so the odds are really kinda stacked that one of us will have it sometime. Soon enough, we will know whether to remove Lyssa from those odds. Yesterday Lyssa and I planned to get her a Nintendo Switch in a tech online flash sale, and I thought it would help distract her, because she tends to be really depressed, and I cannot afford to bring her to migrate with me, so I thought of letting her play her games, that I can afford. There were only 5 units though, and we missed it, so I will perhaps have to get it at full price for her. But first, lumps in her breast.

I WANT THEM ALL

Kyrene told me to watch this video, and firstly I love the fact that the guys are doing what girls are usually doing to be objectified in music videos, ie. look cute and do weird things to be "sexy" like sucking their fingers, or other things, and washing cars, etc etc. But also the boys actually look super hot/cute in the video, so if all men agree to doing the same things that females are subjected to, perhaps we could all get used to this.

SWEETUMS

It's exactly two weeks to Eid and Atiqah's wedding. It's the second wedding I'm a bridesmaid for this year, the first wedding I will be emceeing at in my life. When Eid and the wedding have happened, the major highlights of this year will have passed and I can breathe easy and not be too tied down to Singapore.

DARWIN DEEZ

Last night was one of those nights. I somehow felt all the waves of emotions I'd suppressed and there was only one way to let them out, and I bawled myself to sleep, the kind of bawling that clogged up my nose and I had to breathe through my mouth to get to sleep. One of my part-time colleagues had said something at work, "I don't know how you do nine-hour shifts five days a week, I feel like I'm rotting here from one shift" and I know it was a completely spur-of-the-moment remark and there was nothing malicious about it, but it got to me, and I'd already been feeling, so tired and so heavy, through the week. Then my colleagues were asking each other hypothetical questions again. One of them, Cheryl, asked which of our colleagues we'd pick to be adopted by, so that that person would be our parent. Cheryl said she'd pick me to be her mother, which rather surprised me, I didn't think we were close enough for her to feel that way. She said I'm more towards the "individualism" side and yet I'm still caring about other people's emotions. I didn't, I couldn't mention to her how much this struck a chord in me, but that was probably the thing that started me feeling and thinking through the night. I have had a weird experience with my parents and their parenting styles, and I know people say you turn into your parents, but I really hope I won't be a helicopter parent like my mother nor narcissistic like my father. I feel like a lot of parents tend to have kids, without thinking of them as adults in the future, without thinking of them as people of their own. I think this tends to apply even more when parents are religious. Some parents think it's okay to believe there is a God, there is a Big Man somewhere out there, that created us all just for us to worship Him (or Her), and so these people are completely okay with having kids for their kids to worship them as parents and basically be mini versions of themselves. And they never ever think it's selfish to do this. And I think I would actually like to have kids, I think I would love my kids no matter what or who they turn out to be, because I generally love people for being people. Yet I know, I would never want to raise kids unless I can guarantee that they won't have to struggle in their lives, with their sexuality, with finances, with capitalism. I don't want to add another person to the population if I have to see them struggling. So I think, perhaps if I mother my colleagues at work, that would be enough. Maybe I don't have to have kids of my own if I can be a mother figure to the people who are already in my life. Speaking of which, some of my colleagues at work who are my "daughters" had gotten me the urban decay x kristen leanne beauty beam highlighter palette for my birthday.

I love it.

But even more than that, I love it when people think of me as a mother.

INERTIA

Today I Skyped with Ben for an hour. He is back in his family home that he grew up in and there was a Harvard scarf (?) or banner or something hanging on his bedroom wall. He also showed me the hall on which fabulous photos of his great-grandparents were hung. There is also a room that he and his brother Aaron, were not allowed in, because of probably fancy stuff, and there was a piano in that room, and then I thought, wow imagine living in a house big enough that you have an entire room that your kids are not allowed in, I've never felt that, lol. Also, oh my God, my colleague Cat came into the stockroom while I was typing this, and she asked if I was blogging, so I said yes. Somehow we both started talking about long-distance relationships, because her boyfriend Dante is in South Africa and she's here in Singapore before they both go to university in the UK in a couple of months. She said "phone sex is weird" and immediately my floodgates were opened because omg yessss????? Today Ben asked whether I was going to screenshot him and I said I wasn't, obviously, and I thought he didn't trust me. And then there is the matter of each of us worrying about whether our doors are locked and someone walking in on us. And then today I just told Cat I was simulating some licking but I actually licked my phone so there was so much spit and my phone now has to be sanitised. And like????? Phone sex is weird.

PAWN SHOP

Today I saw a cute guy, walking in the opposite direction ie. towards me. We were both wearing black jackets, we both had messy hair, and were carrying backpacks. The first time I looked at his face, he was also looking at mine, so we both looked away. Before I passed him, I tried to sneak another look to assess just how cute he was, and he was also looking at me, so we again had to glance away. What do people who have partners do when they find someone else attractive? I haven't been in a relationship for so long, I forget the proper conduct. Also, am I in a relationship? Are we, are we not? I hear Ben's voice every morning and night, he is back in his hometown of Nanuet, NY. The backyard is so green and lush. We tell each other we love each other, we talk about future plans, but are we together? Yes, no, maybe? I don't know. Could you repeat the question? Modern dating is so weird. Also, Ben has never dated a woman as apparently naughty as I am. Jesus. I swear when I'm there, it will be the opposite of what I expect and I will be more liberal than half the people are. Everything is so weird.

SAVE ROCK AND ROLL

you are what you love, not who loves you
in a world full of the word yes, 
I'm here to scream
no, no, wherever I go,
trouble seems to follow
I only plugged in to save rock 'n roll
oh no, we won't go
'cos we don't know when to quit, no

OKAY, SO WE'RE DOING THIS

Recently, my workplace has been asking everyone a daily question before the start of our shifts, just to get us into the mood of working, and to let us get to know each other somewhat more personally. Yesterday it was "what would you do if you had one billion dollars?" and then I went into quite a bit of detail, leading my colleagues to say that I was really thinking about it. I was thinking about it, of course, you don't ask someone like me such a question and expect me not to think about it. My brain never stops whirring, and I'm a writer, so I'm always imagining something other than the reality I'm in. Plus, if you're asking a question like that, I take it very literally. One billion dollars is very different from a million dollars, I could stop within an hour of talking about a million dollars, but having a billion dollars, is having a thousand possibilities of spending that million, and I'm gonna fulfill this billion-dollar-potential as much as I can. First, I would pay off my parents' debts, then relocate my household to a nice cosy home in New Zealand, where my mum would like to retire with my stepdad and my family. This would take perhaps two hundred grand, with the migration fees and the house. I would put aside conditional educational trust funds for my six younger siblings, with a cap of three hundred thousand dollars each. If they all used it up, it would only be about two million dollars spent, and I'd have 998 million dollars left! Man, I love being a billionaire. I would take drumming lessons, and learn to drive, go for LASIK so I can be unencumbered by my failing eyesight. I would buy myself a beachfront house in New York, write and read all day everyday, drive out to the city whenever I want, to catch Broadway musicals and concerts. I would sponsor the educations of other women of colour, visit impoverished nations, and bring the brightest minds out and let them study whatever they want to, wherever they want to, in the world. There are way too many bright minds not given their proper spaces to flourish, and the white men with all the money will never change that, so I will. I will build safehouses and give visibility to QTPoC, and people who are no longer accepted by their families due to religious/cultural differences, etc. I will invest money into environmental causes, and also sponsor scholarships for inventors to make the world more plastic-free. I'll buy a bamboo/reusable straw for everyone able to use a straw. I would study fashion and change it to be more sustainable. I dunno, generally I think I'll just pay for less privileged/advantaged people of the world to be educated to try to level the playing field, and hope they do the same for others. I think I'll just keep 100 million dollars for myself to travel, and to live for the rest of my life (in case I do get cancer), that should be more than enough.

APPLE CINNAMON MUFFIN

We have a colleague Michelle, from China, she grew up there for most of her life, so when she found out some of the people at work were fasting for Ramadhan, she got really curious and asked another of my colleagues, Kyrene (Singaporean Chinese) about it. Michelle said in the part of China where she grew up, they don't have events that would ask people to stop eating, they have festivals that encourage eating more instead, and for some reason, that really amused me. She also told me her elder brother had also come to Singapore to work about a month ago, and that he was a really nice guy, a gentleman. She said, "I'm sorry to your boyfriend, Sarah, but my brother is a really nice person for you" so I laughed it off and said she could introduce him to her other girlfriends but she said she liked me more, hahahahahaha oh, Michelle.

FUCK LIN-MANUEL MIRANDA(ALSO KNOWN AS: HAS IT BEENA MONTH ALREADY?)

anything you can do, I can do, bleeding

I was thinking of using the time after sahur (pre-dawn meal) to be productive with my writing before heading to work because I have the "same number of hours in my day as Lin-Manuel Miranda" then I thought: Lin has never given birth like his wife has, Lin has never battled nor experienced monthly debilitating stomach cramps and figured out how to deal with them, Lin has never felt weak from the lack of iron thanks to losing blood from the vagina he doesn't have, Lin has never had to fight with his parents regarding dressing "appropriately" for his gender and culture, Lin has not had to fight my fights, so fuck Lin-Manuel Miranda, I'm good enough as I am. And that, folks, is how you know my period is impending.

KING LEAR

I had what Ben called an actor's nightmare, last night. I was the lead character of a stage production, but they'd only given me one day to memorise chunky, heavy, long lines. Despite being given multiple cues, I clean forgot them when I was on stage, and the worst thing is there were people in the audience whom I've always wanted to impress. I don't know what the dream means, besides that I'd eaten a lot before sleeping, but Ben says it was cool because now we share the experience. He used to want to be an actor, he did theatre in Harvard. If Ben says it's cool, it's cool. Naw, I'm kidding. But I do love Ben. I haven't come up with a hashtag for him yet, but I'm thinking perhaps #notmyfavoriteBen, because our inside joke is that my favorite Ben is the one of Ben & Jerry's fame (his name is Ben Cohen).

RAMADHAN

It is the start of Ramadhan. Ben and I had a little conversation over text, about the move of the embassy to Jerusalem. Ben is Jewish, and I'm Muslim by association (lolol I dunno how else to put it), so it could have become quite heated, but we saved that for another day, because texting is definitely not the best way to discuss a decades-long complicated issue, in which neither of us wants to see any bloodshed but each of us has a little bit of an interest in sort of opposing sides. He doesn't agree with the move, and I would say I wouldn't agree with all the moves made by any of the parties so far. So. Will I ever learn to cut my run-on sentences short, and write properly? Perhaps. I told Ben that the ink ribbon for my typewriter is sort of drying up (is that what it does? not sure what the proper terminology is), and Hazwani might not have had time to find a replacement before giving it to me for my birthday. I don't know where I can find typewriter ink ribbons, seeing as typewriters themselves are not too common in Singapore, and Ben said he'd look around in Brooklyn when he gets home, and send them to me if he finds them. I love Ben. It's hard to want to sit myself down to write when I remember that I have Ben, who makes me feel so good, and so nice, and so much better about the world, but then I think, to get to Ben, to get with Ben, I have to keep writing. So. Delayed gratification is how it will have to be.

BRIGHTER THAN SUNSHINE

I had a birthday last week. It was my 28th, so it was pretty special to me.

My family got me a watch, as is their tradition, with the exception of last year, because last year was weird for us as a family, and perhaps they forgot about their traditions with me, but this year, it seems like things could be mended, slowly.

Chloe got me Gold Class movie vouchers, which I love. Going to the cinema is one of my favorite things to do, and unfortunately I did very little of this in 2017. I seem to have taken time out from doing so many things that I like, but now I'm going to try get back to them. Gold Class movie vouchers are such great gifts, because who wouldn't like watching movies in comfortable cushioned reclining chairs, and blankets, and personal tables for your fancy meals? No one. But who would dish out that money on themselves? I wouldn't, lol, I mean regular movie tickets are pricey enough!

My soultwin Viv gave me cash as part of my tattoo fund, which is apt because she's one of my tattoo shifus. Hehehe I cannot wait to go get it with her and Andrea and Han and Pamela. Ben says I deserve better than Bon Jovi, so maybe I'll do Hamilton, I dunno.

My girls: Han, Tiqs and Sha got me fake flowers because they knew I've never liked flowers because they wilt and die, so these ones will never die, and they got a vase for them, and this is amazing. They also got me shopping vouchers, which I think I'll use to get myself a bottle of Chanel No. 5 EDP. It's my favorite perfume, but I only used it once in my life, when my mother got it for me on my 21st birthday. I always loved the powdery, sweet scent but I thought it doesn't really suit me, I'm not demure -- you know, I'm the girl who burps in public and posts videos of myself coughing phlegm on my Instagram stories, but you know, it's my year, I will wear whatever perfume I want to. They're also taking me to watch Kumar next week, which I'm really looking forward to! For someone who wants to do a stand-up comedy session sometime, it's funny that I've never seen a stand-up comic live. I've only seen those on Netflix or Youtube.

Cuifen, Pearlyn, Timothy and Yuriko got me two Pandora bracelets, and they are gorgeous, and pink, and extremely me. One of them has an S charm, because of course my name is Sarah. This is my new staple accessory.

Nabilah got me a handbag from Charles & Keith, which is just the perfect colour and design and which I'm gonna use for Eid this year. Yay, I have something besides my backpacks to carry around!

Dana's gift to me was the gorgeous watermelon cake that was a talking point of the night. The decor of the cake really coincidentally matched my dress and the flowers in my hair.

So, Ben got me a little pink Pusheen plushie, because I was always mewing to him randomly. He also wrote me two cards. One was something for me to read at the party, and the other was an essay of what he loved about me. He couldn't fit it on one page so he continued on the back of that card. This man is so adorable, and he's mine. When we watched Hamilton, I'd cried at the scene of It's Quiet Uptown, because that was when Hamilton and Eliza had just lost their son Philip, and of course it always takes me back to my miscarriage, so I'd been sniffling. Towards the end of the musical, during Who Lives, Who Dies, Who Tells Your Story, one of the lines about Eliza building an orphanage got to Ben, he said it reminded him of his mum, who had been a special ed teacher, and he teared, and I was completely thrown. This man! I've seen the Hamilton bootleg with several men, but none of them responded the way Ben did, and I love him!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

We also had a fantastic dinner at National Kitchen by Violet Oon, at the National Gallery. It was his treat 'cos we didn't think he would be staying until my birthday but he extended his trip, and he did grace my party and make it ever more memorable.

Also, on my birthday evening, I was asking if anyone wanted to play games before we ended the party, but most of my friends and family were tired, because we'd already had quite a bit of fun with jokes (#saidpeoplesaidyourself) and confusing anecdotes, and the watermelon cake, and sparklers. Ben then said "I want to play games" and I knew it was because he had been going around with me to prepare the things for the party, and I'd just bought the whiteboard for Pictionary and I just wanted my guests to enjoy themselves, and I wanted to just squeeze him right there and then. We ended up not playing, but my party was really fun and everyone seemed to enjoy themselves, and they all liked each other and commended me for my taste in social circles, anyway, hehehe.

The pièce de résistance was Hazwani's gift, which is a pink typewriter, that is fully functioning and I'm still figuring out how to use all of its magic. My life is now complete, I WANT FOR NOTHING ELSE. This is just my type(writer) of gift, actually all my gifts were my type of gifts.

I am now 28, and I have received such lovely things, but as I said during my little speech to end off my party, I am truly blessed to have the best people as my company. The most important thing they all did for me was to stay by my side through rough storms in my life. I can look around and say how lucky I am to be alive right now (Hamilton reference, for the uninitiated).

Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.

WAY BACK INTO LOVE

So half a year ago, I was on Tinder in Brooklyn although I'd never been in New York (don't ask why, I'm a little insane sometimes), and I matched with a guy called Ben. I then liked someone else, and got distracted, but Ben and I were Facebook friends. He and I continued to like several of each other's posts, but never really kept in contact. Two weeks ago, he asked me whether I would be free to have a cuppa with him because he would be in Singapore for a weekend. I said yes, of course. In the past two weeks, if I haven't been asleep or at work, then I have been most likely looking into his face. One of the first things I learned about him in person, was that he went to Harvard University, he studied English (read English? I dunno) and at first when he had told me, he said he didn't like how I was reacting and he didn't like to tell people and for people to treat him differently, but I liked it even more. I would think that being from Harvard would make it even higher odds that he could be an entitled highly-educated white prick, and I have met so many men who are intelligent, and none of them better human beings for it. This man, though, the first morning that we'd woken up together, he talked about social mobility. He said it's much harder for black families, they might get their way into the middle class but then fall back down the class ranks again, and it's very different from white families, and there's still a long, long journey to work and fight for. His mum passed away of cancer, and I see him still coming to terms with it, and when I asked him what his favorite food was, he said it was beef brisket the way his mum used to make it, and she taught him the recipe, but that his doesn't match up to hers because she'd been making it for decades, and he needs those decades to improve on his. I've brought him to eat local delicacies, things like laksa, and rendang - voted the most delicious dish in the world, in a poll by CNN International taken by 50000 people, and sambal stingray, and drinking sugarcane. He likes most of it, and he does this cute little review of sorts of our streetside everyday food, and he pronounces it in a butchery white man way, but I correct him, and he tries. Several days ago, my colleagues were having a conversation about whether they approved of Ben, because we have this joke that I am their mum, and they should approve of the man I'm dating, and the banter went back and forth but the consensus was that I was happy, and he was making me happy, and every screenshot I put up on Instastories of a conversation between us was cute and quirky and smart, and they like him. He's also turned up at work several times to fetch me for a meal or to send me home, and they think he is very sweet, and they are right, he is. Sometimes when I ask if I can film him for Instagram, he says "I'm not your show pony!" but then he does it anyway, because he said he likes that I so want to show him off. Last weekend, the public transport system fucked up again, and I hadn't known about it, so we had to take an extremely long detour, and my gripe about it was that nobody who was going along the same train journey as us, had seemed to know, and everybody was confused, and Uber was surcharging because everybody was trying to Uber home, so I said, we are a first-world nation with everyone owning and being hooked on a smartphone, it should have been easier to get the message spread on social media and make us aware of it, but I didn't say this, I yelled it while we had to walk past queues and policemen and volunteers trying to bring order to the situation. I also peppered it with constant "what the FUCK is wrong with Singapore? Fuck this shit!" and a whole lotta fucks, and basically I was in public-transport-rage-mode, and at this point, men usually understand I'm a basketcase with a lot of issues, but Ben, despite telling me he saw a five-year-old girl side-eye me for my rage, said it was normal and healthy, and distracted me and told me stories, and held my hand throughout, and I thought, damn, he does really love me. Whenever I say Jesus Christ, he says Superstar, like the musical, and I Instagrammed this and my manager Aileen was so tickled she kept singing it when I got to work. He dropped out of a community choir because the director kept gaslighting him and he accused Ben of saying that no non-blacks are allowed to sing black songs, and they had an altercation about appreciation and cultural appropriation. He also asked me what it was that I read and watch, to be in the know about such things as race and gender politics, and I told him I'm in an intersectional feminism group on Facebook, and the people on there had really helped me get through my miscarriage. This is the man I love, and this is the kind of white man I like. One of the things I hate people bringing up when the topic of my dating comes up, is that "white men only want sex", which befuddles me, because one, there is nothing wrong with sex, two, everyone wants it - white or men of colour, white women or women of colour, and three, men of colour, especially in Singapore, have not been introduced to the idea of systemic racism and gender politics. They hate being told that they've internalised misogyny, they hate being told that they're mansplaining, they hate being told that perhaps white men deal with gender politics better because they've been called out on their race politics and so have started to think about these things, and are thinking about the issue with a mindset that's a decade ahead than their Asian male counterparts. When we watched the Hamilton bootleg on my laptop, there's a scene in Aaron Burr, Sir, where they knock a beat on the bench and Laurens says "showtime! showtime! I'm John Laurens in the place to be!" and Ben asked if I knew where the "showtime" ref was from, and he said it is how crews start performing in public in New York, whether on train platforms or anyplace, that's how they start, and I told him I'd just read that bit of information in my Hamiltome and I knew it, and I thought, this man is living the life I want. He's living out the Hamilton scene I've been playing in my head over and over. Over the past week, I told him he shouldn't be making me fall in love with him, so he asked if I wanted him to do something horrible so I wouldn't miss him so much. I said, "well are you gonna hook up with someone else and disappear?" to which he responded that that would not be poetic, and followed up with "Hamilton is overrated." He said this knowing my feelings about Hamilton, that it's the American Dream taking place, but the cast is so diverse that black people and Asians and Hispanics see themselves as founding fathers of America, and if there's one thing I love, it's representation. Ben knows which buttons to push that I respond to, and he also knows to tell me he loves me, because I love being told that I'm loved, just as much as I love telling people I love them. This love has been a microcosm, perhaps like all loves, and I have enjoyed it so much, and I will miss you, Ben, always. Thank you for the best two weeks I could have had while turning 28.

PARALLAX ERROR

In secondary school (that's high school to you Muricans), I remember when a friend told me that I had used perverse thinking that it was the same word and meant the same thing as perverted. I later learned that he was right, they were two different things. In polytechnic (that's like vocational school), a good friend I still keep in contact with (Viv - I don't know if she'd ever remember this) told me what "patronising" meant, because I'd again never known. I initially had this impression it was a good gesture, I said "isn't it a good thing if someone is saying you're right and indulging your feelings?" before I really learned what it encompassed. Thinking back, I wonder what took so long for me to learn such words, but every time I think I know something, of course I can be proven wrong, and I must always, always, always remind myself there is always room for me to be wrong, and that I can always learn.

IN HEAT

Mochi is in heat and mewing non-stop and her eating/litter area is right outside my room so I get woken up most at night. The poor girl seems to be contorting herself and feeling really uncomfortable and it reminds me of my own premenstrual cramps, but at least I know why that shit happens and I get to take painkillers. Poor Moch. I think we've gotta get her spayed/fixed/neutered soon. I also have a gazillion other things to do and say but I am happy, happy, happy.

MAY THE FOURTH BE WITH YOU

I need the time to choose a font, email Maxine (that's @maxinengps on Instagram), reply the email from the girl/lady who reads this blog, write to Freya with regards to her move to Dubai. I will attempt all this through the weekend. I have the same number of hours in a day as Lin-Manuel Miranda. Also, my birthday is in seven days and I accept contributions to tattoo funds, hehehehehe.

THESE THINGS TAKE TIME

I was out last night for dinner with Ben (Glaser, it's a different Ben from someone else I was dating hahaha), we stayed out a little late past midnight. I had an 8am meeting this morning, so I had to leave home at 6am right, and I slept all the way in the train to work. About a year ago, or when I was depressed, I could not sleep regardless how I tired myself out, regardless what I did. I could swim and run and deprive myself of sleep intentionally, and yet I would lie awake in bed, feeling the worst things and not being able to fall into sleep. Now, just being able to feel tired and fall asleep during train journeys, feels like my life is back to normal. I am grateful for sleep.

GRACE

Monday night, I will be going to watch Fall Out Boy live, with the three sisters whom I live with. I haven't listened to their recent songs at all. I think it'll be fun. We saw the setlist, and I know they'll be performing at least four of their old songs that I know and like (Thnks fr the Mmrs, Sugar We're Goin' Down, Dance Dance, and This Ain't a Scene, It's an Arms Race). I think I might've read somewhere that FOB might be problematic, but who knows, everyone is problematic in one aspect or the other. Imma just go for the music, and to be my sisters' chaperone. I cannot believe I listened to them when I was thirteen and am now going to their concert with my fourteen-year-old sister. F U C K ME I cannot be so old!

YOU'VE GOT MAIL

Today I received an email from a girl (lady? I dunno?) who's read my blog and wants to be friends. I liked her email and I will have to reply it sometime soon. While I say I like making friends and having friends, sometimes it doesn't seem like it. In the past week, I had a guy I used to date for like, a month, in the past, and he said he wanted to be friends because he still cares about me and my life. While I appreciate the notion, I tried to give him all sorts of excuses why it wouldn't work out. I said we didn't have anything in common, and then we were both passive-aggressive, but then I gave in and so now we are apparently friends. I think I don't like it when men whom I used to date or have feelings for, tell me they just wanna be friends, because I always have very strong feelings, and I think if we are friends, my feelings will come back, but none of the men are ever worried about this, which makes me think, maybe none of them ever liked me as much as I liked them, and this saddens me.

DNCE

baby you don't have to rush
you can leave a toothbrush at my place
we don't need to keep it hush
you can leave a toothbrush at my place   

I would really like to see A Quiet Place. That's all I have in mind. I switched to my new phone, Samsung S9, a couple of days ago, and it felt a little strange not to use an iPhone interface, although I'd only been an iPhone user for barely three years. My sister and I were experimenting and her iMessages to me can no longer be delivered, which is strange because I use a MacBook and my iMessage and FaceTime should still function and be able to send/receive messages from my laptop, no? Curious. If you're an American friend, please know that I have switched to an Android, alright bye.

JE NE SUIS PAS UN HOMME FACILE

I watched I Am Not An Easy Man on Netflix. Shahida and Pamela, two of my best friends, separately recommended it to me because they enjoyed it and because they know I’m a feminist. While I would say, as a film it is enjoyable enough and men should definitely watch it — I’ve decided any man I am seeing must watch it and I will get their opinions about it — I also felt like, now what? The film didn’t really set out with a solution. If it’s about raising awareness then great, I hope men are aware and feel more empathy when they are themselves objectified. Will they set out to change this world that we live in though? Hardly likely. Change is made out of people willing to put themselves at discomfort, and not many people do this even if it’s for a greater good. Still, I will take what I can. If a man agrees to see I Am Not An Easy Man with me and offer me his opinion, I am more than willing to sit through the film dozens of times. For the greater good, non? ;)

CHESS NOT CHECKERS

A saying that Lin-Manuel Miranda favours is “chess not checkers”, and I really like it. Life is chess, not checkers. It’s not easy, it’s not fast, there are many rules, it takes patience, and there are multiple strategies to it. I am very tired today but life is chess, not checkers. It’s less than a month to my 28th birthday, which I am really looking forward to, because 28 is my favourite number and when I turn 28, all I want to say is “I made it” — the past three years have been especially rough on me, not even considering my tumultuous childhood but, hey, I made it to 28. I can breathe easy.

HO-HUM

Not much to say today. I read more of Hamiltome, armed with Post-its to annotate my own thoughts onto Lin’s annotations of the musical. I didn’t learn much today, but I felt content. Or perhaps, satisfied, to use my favourite track off Hamilton. I would be so much more useful if you placed me with books and words and told me to absorb knowledge from them, I don’t know why it costs so much to study. Where does the money go? I wish there was an equivalent for community college in Singapore. The thing about the United States being so diverse is that there is always an option for everyone, a safety net for people who can’t afford the expensive route. Wait, did I say I was feeling satisfied today? Yes, yes I am.

THIS IS NOT A MOMENTIT'S THE MOVEMENT

I am currently perusing my Hamiltome (official book title - Hamilton: The Revolution) at a Starbucks looking for college tuition aid, sipping on an iced shaken tea lemonade, wondering whether it is my Sbux consumption habits that are making me too broke for tuition, not the fact that tuition fees have been increasing by insane percentages. #millennial Here is what people see: I am at a Starbucks, with my MacBook, and a drink in my Tumblr-worthy tumbler. Here is what people don't know but what I am telling you: I am here for the free Wifi, and I brought my own sandwich from home, had to sneakily eat it from inside my bag, so I'd only have to pay for a drink and not food, which I can easily make at home. Still, though, all things considered - this is by far not the worst point in my life. It's been pretty decent. Pretty, pretty decent. I collected my new passport this morning. I'm thinking of whether I should burn my previous passport, it has stamps from my previous trips to LA/the US, and I've tried my best to rewrite or break off all ties to those times and memories, so. The difference between Alexander Hamilton's time and now is most definitely that we, as entities in this era, definitely have a much bigger say over who lives, who dies and who tells our stories. I will write my own story.

BOSS

Today I went to get a free scalp treatment done at the hair centre that calls me up to get my free birthday treatment every year. Today, as it happens every time, they tried to get me to sign up for a package, citing that my scalp is oily and clogged and I am therefore prone to hair loss if I don’t do regular scalp treatments. That is what they have always told me, but my hair is still quite healthy, and I still don’t experience hair loss. Even if I did, so what? I think that a lot of cosmetics and wellness businesses do this, they try to make you feel bad about yourself, or inadequate, or fear for your future looks, and you don’t have to allow it. I only go for beauty appointments when they are free, and it doesn’t matter how many blackheads I have on my face or clogged pores or flab on my stomach, I work hard for my money, and nobody else should have a right to dictate what I do with it, nor pressure me into spending money on perceived imperfections. I am perfectly fine with my imperfections and if the world tries to make you feel otherwise about yourself, that is a sign of imperfection in the world, not in you. In any case, my hair does feel soft after having gotten blown dry. I will appreciate that for the year ahead HAHAHAHA.

CAKE BY THE OCEAN

dive bar on the east side

where you at?

So a few days ago, one of the bigger influencers in Singapore, who goes by the moniker @bellywellyjelly on Instagram, had her sex tapes distributed by her ex-boyfriend Joal Ong, who has since deactivated his social media accounts, which seems to me pretty self-incriminating, since he was also a sort of public figure who depended on being an internet celebrity. I don’t know if anything happened between them as a trigger to lead up to the scandal, but if he did intentionally leak or post them, he is such an asshole. Of course there were people who found out and then commented that she’s a slut, but rlly, we are in 2018, can we stop slut-shaming girls who are having sex? Why is it that when a sex video is leaked, no one cares about the guy but the girl is suddenly a slut? If it’s okay for guys to be having sex but girls are not supposed to be sexually active, who are these men even supposed to have sex with???? This virgin/Madonna pretence has got to go. I think a lot of her followers are quite progressive and supportive though, which is great. I hope legal action and consequences happen to him. Honestly, why can’t people just be decent?

UNWIRED

Today, Facebook reminded me of this.

Text:

Earlier this week, my biological dad texted me after having read the post I'd linked, of him calling me ouzo: like an acquired taste, essentially unique. He was testing the waters, seeing whether I was okay with him, after half a year has passed. I was in no mood to entertain him, and then he said "maybe you're not ouzo after all", insinuating that I was hardened, that I was like anyone else who has not forgiven him. It irked me even more.

I forgave you when you strayed time after time when you and Mum were still married when I was a toddler. I forgave you when I was barely in grade school and you and mum fought so badly at the mall, you both somehow lost me and I made my way back home, about ten bus stops away, surprising everyone and even myself that I found my way back. I forgave you when you smashed the windscreen of the car Mum rented, despite the car having nothing to do with you. I forgave you when you harassed my maternal grandparents to let you into their house on account of some monetary issues with mum: my dear old late granddad who doted on myself and Adik and to my knowledge never spoke a word against you, and Nyai who, despite everything, tells us to acknowledge you because "no matter what, he's still your father." I forgave you for all the times my sister has low self-esteem and no trust in men because you were never there for her.

I forgave you time and again and allowed you into our lives and love my stepmother and four half-siblings but last year, when I was 25, I was approached by a man telling me to advise you because you had solicited for sex from his fiancée. Instead of showing remorse, your response towards me was that you didn't think I'd find out about it. The onus is no longer on me to forgive you, the onus is on you to change.

It's not that I'm not big enough to forgive you, you just haven't shown that you're big enough to deserve it.

My family members tire me out a lot. In the past three years, I got strung along by a man who was unfaithful to his soon-to-be wife, I found out my father was doing the same to my stepmother, I took a break for myself then got pregnant, then my mother chose to be really hard and unforgiving that I got pregnant.

Yesterday, I spent a bit of time with Mel, she was filling me in on where she is currently at with Gilmore Girls. My sister also said to me, the eldest child of my mother's four kids, and the eldest of my father's six (why do people have kids when they have no money or emotional capacity for them? religious people have the weirdest motivations), that my drama days are over.

You know, a lot of people have gone through less than I have, and they retaliate by doing the weirdest things physically, like they take out their anger onto the world. I just absorb things, and I write. All I ever do is write. Everything I feel, I channel into writing. Anyway, as I was saying, my sister says my drama days are long gone, which is a good, good thing.

I mean, I sort of feel it within myself, but to hear it from my sister is a good thing, because I guess she knows me best, besides myself.

EAT YOUR GREENS

Last night I’d gotten home quite late ‘cos the train service ended early and I hadn’t known about it so I had to take the shuttle bus instead which prolonged my route by at least half an hour. And adding half an hour to my original route home is not a joke. At 1ish AM, I asked my sister whether I should do the whole change-out-of-my-work-clothes, wash up and go to bed thing properly or just go to sleep. I told my sister that I read that people who are disciplined get somewhere, get to places in life, but I’m the most disciplined person in my household, and still I haven’t gotten anywhere. I make my bed, wash my dishes/clothes/whatever, keep my room tidy, take my pills, write and read whenever I can, I finish what I start, I commit, and still: here. So she said “go to sleep kak, you’re tired and for all you know, you might die tomorrow, there’s no point in doing all the washing up things” and I said “that’s what you and I wish for every day, but we always live on, don’t give me false hope” and we laughed for a good few minutes. My sister and I are quite depressed people, because there is a lot that has been taught us that I think we inherently want to unlearn but it’s always two steps forward and one back. Every time I unlearn something I think doesn’t agree with me as a person, my family pulls me back and tries to mold me back into the person that they want me to be. One time, I matched with someone on Tinder who was actually pretty decent, and I asked him something like what he wanted in return (I believe he offered me his bathtub because my bio had stated that I like bubble baths) and then he said, “not everything has to be done in exchange for something” and he actually initiated that he understood and empathised with the fact that I might probably have met a lot of men who want things from me. If only everybody believed that you can do things without expecting something in return. I feel like my mother’s parenting style is that way so I grew up believing it, that for having been raised by her in her household, this-this-and-this are what must happen in return, and there is no negotiating about it. Where did this Tinder anecdote even come from? Who knows? I have to mention something about eggs and cars and I thought it was hilarious but the perpetrator would like it to be a secret so it will only live on in our memories, and here as an anonymous mention. This is the time that happened.

HOLY DUCK

I’m on the way to work and I can’t even tell whether it’s my joints or muscles that are aching, maybe both. I didn’t even drink last night, I think I consumed too much sugar though, I had three ice-creams and the only liquor I had was from the lychee martini ice-cream. I need to swim, can’t remember the last time I worked out, and this lethargy must be contributed in some part by the inactivity of my body and limbs. Just one month, I think I’m going through this hustle for only a month or so, before I move to another type of hustle. One month more. I just want to sleep. Why did I go to a high-functioning social party when I barely just recovered from feeling like I was dead? Because I’m a sucker for punishment? Yeah, highly likely. I can sleep when I’m dead. Motherfucker I am so close to burning out.

PARTY

I am so tired but I told myself I would try to post once every day just to track my progression so here is my attempt. I went to a party tonight and the location was gorgeous. There were a couple of people who had co-founded a tech startup and were telling me about it. Apparently the layperson reason for why Bitcoin and cryptocurrency are so volatile is that you can’t do much besides buy and sell. So they’re endeavouring to change that by starting to bet on it and start hedge funds etc, and the more things you can do with it, the less volatile it will get. The female co-founder also said for her mid-life crisis she’d like to go to law school and get a law degree and I was like, whoa, I’m dealing outside of my league here. There were three Americans, talking up their places of residence/origin, like Salt Lake City vs Colorado. Today I learned that in the old-world-riches of the planet, skiing is apparently a little more prestigious and some private ski resorts look down on and will not allow snowboarders. I never knew. Such privilege. I saw many cute men, but while they made eye contact with me several times, it was the other men who kept me with my time and hitting on me. I never got to talk with the cute ones, but oh well. You win some, you lose some. It was overall, a very interesting night, and I enjoy mingling at parties, because you know, I’m superficial as all hell and also very talkative. People I’ve never even known tell me they see me fitting right in with people I’ve never met. This is why Singapore is not the place for me — also, the American lady told me she understands why I feel trapped, by having been born and raised here and never having lived anywhere else. She said she lived in Hawaii for a while and although people say things like “I don’t see why anyone would ever wanna leave” she said she had island fever, so that’s what I’ve got. Island fever. Being trapped in a tiny area of land, where there is nothing to do, and no one different to talk to. This was a pretty good attempt, for a last-ditch attempt, if I do say so myself.

STRONGBOW

The fan in my room makes a lot of rattly noise. Last night, my sister Mel slept in my bed for a while and she finally said she wonders how I get to sleep. She’d always thought I was imagining things. I’m really excited to get out of here, not too soon, but it’ll be here soon enough. Today is #MLK50 Day and I’m gonna read about the whitewashing of his legacy.

SIEMPRE, LIN

I received the eco-friendly cotton hoodie from the Hamilton LDN Prizeo raffle. It is a lovely soft green hoodie that is clearly my new favourite hoodie. Tomorrow I am finally back to work. Ooh, also, I’ve been binge-watching Queer Eye on Netflix and so far I have cried at every episode.

COSMOS

Watching an episode of Cosmos and it’s about Michael Faraday. Isn’t it intriguing how Faraday built on the works of Isaac Newton and everything since and between, and then Albert Einstein built on Faraday’s works and a lot of science essentially is a compilation of works by people who sometimes never even met each other, across hundreds of years? I feel like there is an underlying notion to be taken away from this but I’m too tired to follow through.

HUMAN CAPITAL VALUE

I was watching Netflix’s Take Your Pills, which is about college students in the USA being hooked on Adderall, which is a pill usually used to help people who have ADHD, focus better. I wish I’d been given Adderall, I used to be so easily distracted. I also didn’t finish watching the documentary because it’s inclined towards like, aesthetics that make me think of Andy Warhol, like it keeps cutting in to static and white noise, and then hyperrealistic scenes of pills and whatever, and I don’t like it when things don’t flow in the most linear of manners. Maybe it’s also because I’ve been sick and this isn’t the best time to watch the show.

CHRYSALIS

It is April Fool's Day in Singapore. I have been taking setamol, serratiopeptidase as well as amoxicillin, three times a day, for the past, I dunno what, four days? I think they're working but I have also had a lot of time by myself, being delirious and thinking incessantly, because idle hands (and brains) are the devil's workshop, as if the devil doesn't already reside in me when I'm at 100% health capacity - I kid, I don't believe in the devil. I don't fall sick often, but when I do, it feels like the end of the world, because when my system shuts down, it shuts the hell down. You know how caterpillars turn into butterflies and they don't actually quite know why they're spinning cocoons around themselves and turning themselves into jelly, and they don't even know that their end goal is to become butterflies? Yeah, imma coerce myself into believing this sickness is my chrysalis stage. Is this part of my delirium? Possibly, probably, yeah-huh. I've been taking my antibiotics and I think it's those pills that are upsetting my digestive system/stomach and making me churn and nauseous every time I eat, but if I don't eat, my sister says I won't have the energy to get better, so you tell me. For some reason, all this time to myself/by myself has made me realise how much of a mess of contradictions my mind and I are: I wonder if everybody is like this - I know I am possibly an average of many people I know, so yeah, I would assume most people are a mess, a mass of contradictions. I watched Netflix's The World's Most Extraordinary Homes, and at first, just like anyone watching the show, I of course thought, damn, I also want to build an extraordinary house somewhere in the Santa Monica canyons of CA, or in the gorgeous lush canopies of New Zealand, or in the Catskill Mountains of NY. Then I realised, all the people on the show, all the home owners are white people, they are Caucasian - regardless of which region of the world the episode is filmed in, they are white. Then I think, I cannot possibly allow myself to live in such luxuries whilst developing countries are still called developing countries instead of "countries struggling to recover from being ruthlessly pillaged and systematically destabilised" - I mean, white people make up only 20% of the world population, but from the North to the South, the East to the West of this planet, the richest of them, and the ones with the most ludicrously luxurious, beautiful, extraordinary of homes are still white. Why? Why do I date white men, four out of five of whom will tell me that the biggest problem they see in the world is income/wealth inequality, and yet continue to spend their money on visiting a new country every time, with a misplaced belief that visiting more countries means what, that you're one step closer to reaching nirvana? That they are somehow more worldly-wise? What is the point of recognising a problem that is almost unanimous with everyone else's worst/most urgent problem in the world, then closing both eyes to it? What have you done, that was not inherently for yourself? These questions, they are questions I ask myself because I know I'm a mess of contradictions, but I still find myself attracted to people who have never known it about themselves, nor seemed to ask themselves the same. My sister says I am more irritable because I am sick, and it is possibly true, I haven't been eating nor sleeping properly, and I just want to eat and sleep. Butterfly or not, please let me just be well enough to eat and sleep again.

PRAYER CIRCLE

Let us form a prayer circle for my health no I’m kidding prayers don’t do anything I’m just popping pills like it ain’t no thang. Also chugging water. Also binge-sleeping. Nothing seems to help, so. Just letting y’all know if I die, I would like everyone to share the funniest stories they know about me and not cry at all. Yes, I’m being dramatic. Life is an adventure and the most adventurous of times may happen in sickness, I honestly don’t know what has been going on in my brain.

SICK, SICK, SICK

I keep having intense headaches and fluctuating fevers that probably means the infection is putting up a hell of a fight, but the dramatic bitch in me is convinced that I have a brain tumour, especially 'cos I dreamt last night that I had a brain tumour, but since when have my dreams ever been right?

BUTTERFLIES AND HURRICANES

Me being me, I went through my Facebook posts and came across the one I'd written when I'd just found out I was pregnant and had had a miscarriage. It was initially only visible to people I knew were trustworthy, but after my mum found out, I made it public like my other posts. The way my mother found out was she opened a bill that I'd gotten from the hospital, one marked private and confidential and addressed to me, legally an adult at 26, a bill that I'd stored away in my own drawer, so yes, if anyone asks why I have trust issues, I would say, you can't trust anyone.

This is what it says:

If you had been following my Instagram stories, it might have caused you dismay at my levels of anguish, as some of you asked me what was wrong. I could not answer because I was only just beginning to comprehend things and my family had just experienced the passing of a loved one, so I did not want to cause them more stress and worry, and I still don't want to now. However, the storm has come to pass, somewhat, I guess, and it's time to talk about it, because I don't want to pretend it didn't happen.

A week ago, I suspected I was pregnant and eventually confirmed it with test kits and at the clinic. I told Joey first, of course, and I told him my gut instinct, which was that I wanted to keep it. I let him know that he was not obligated to be involved because it was unplanned, but the baby was mine and I wanted it. Joey understood and although he felt guilty as it was not in his life plan, he did not try to change my mind as he respected that I am an adult and am capable of making my own personal decisions.

I talked to a few of my closest, most trusted friends. Most of them advised me not to keep it, because I am not financially stable, nor is having a baby at this age part of my (travel-the-world, settle-somewhere-else) life plan. They don't want me to bring a life into this world and give it an instant disadvantage against its peers.

I understood their perspectives but at the same time, once upon a time, /I/ was this kid, and I felt so much for it, so much more than anyone else could. My mother also conceived me as an "accident", she struggled for many years, and I never lived quite as comfortably as many of my Singaporean friends I know. And yet, and yet, she managed, we managed, and I managed to have lived quite the fulfilling 26 years of my life so far.

I don't deny the tough times, of turmoil, of financial battles between my parents, of my mum only badmouthing my father, of being too distracted by family sagas to have focused on my studies, of not having a family income strong enough to see me through to university. I also don't deny I love my mum all the more for it, for having struggled for me, and I have received love from my mum and from endless, countless people in my life, people who tried to help and push me forward in any way they could and knew best.

If I had raised this child, they might and probably would have experienced similar struggles, but I would have wanted to impart the knowledge that I'd myself received. I would have wanted them to learn that money and status may make things easier, but they certainly don't make things better. I have travelled, maybe not as luxuriously as some, but fairly extensively.

When my friends asked for my favourite experiences anywhere, I would invariably answer about the people I'd met. I met this guy who had the most amazing library of books and DVDs, I had a kindred soul sister in a lodge at Lake Tahoe, I met your father and we went on dates in the canyons, we got called out for public drunken-kissing one night, with my hands in his back pockets, because he always kept me warm in this world too cold for me.

("Joey, I need to pee." "Sarah, go pee in the bushes." "No...." "Why not?" "'Cos I'm a girl!" "So?" "Joey!" "Yes?" "I need to pee!" "....."

This back-and-forth happened multiple times, after you grasped my hand tight and held me up steady, crossing roads and navigating barriers.)

Your father was an adamant engineering genius but most nights, he would let me pick a movie, even the most frivolous ones, and after feeding me dinner, he would watch it to the end while I fell asleep in his arms. Maybe one of those nights, you had already been conceived.

I wanted my baby to know that regardless of educational or monetary status, the most important thing in life would be the people they knew and the relationships they would go on to forge. I wanted him or her to know that you could make anyone feel anything based on the person they were and the things they said, not with the money in their bank accounts or the things they owned.

When I travelled across LA, I met a few single dads who also had children being raised by their mothers in other states or countries. I was awed by their love, their ways of parenting through Facetime, reading aloud storybooks and discussing morals and themes, and I hoped Joey would do the same. I wanted my child to know that even if his or her parents weren't together, they could and would still have a decent and fulfilling life, because I wanted them to and I would make it work. I loved their father, he was a simple, honest, patient, hardworking man, I always felt safe with him and I liked many things about him. If my baby could have any of our character traits based on our genes (besides being really cute), they would turn out a good person and rather likeable, with any luck.

A select few of my friends, as well as my cousin and sister, said they would stick by me regardless my decision, meaning they were prepared to co-parent my child with me. My best friend Han called dibs on being godmother, and my sister Lyssa already planned to buy tiny baby shoes for my baby.

The funny thing is, I think my subconscious knew I had conceived long before I was physically aware. When I arrived back in Singapore, I was playing with my cousins' kids at Nabilah's wedding and my cousins asked when my turn to have a baby was. I offhandedly answered "in 9 months' time" afterwhich they smiled and teased "oooh! You just got back from the US! Must be someone there, was it Joey!" I sniggered and walked away but some part of me must have known it was true.

Unfortunately, since last weekend, I was bleeding thick, heavy clots and the clinic that confirmed my pregnancy referred me to the hospital's Accidents & Emergencies. They drew my blood, prodded up my vagina to do an ultrasound of my womb, but could not find my pregnancy sac. I suffered a miscarriage and am no longer pregnant.

I read that the sex of a foetus is determined at the point of fertilisation. Please don't try to console me with scientific facts that it had not developed a heartbeat or limbs or a conscience. It was already a girl or a boy, as far as I am concerned, it was a life growing inside me, it was a person I already loved, and I have lost him or her.

I am exhausted from the physical, emotional, mental trauma. I would like to be given space to cope with this. Please don't ask me if I'm okay. Please don't ask my best friends or sister if I'm okay. I'm not okay now, but I will be. I just want to sleep till 2017, and I will talk to any of you when I'm ready to talk to anyone. At the moment, I can't, don't and won't.

PS. If anyone has any connections to my family, please do not tell them, especially my mum. I may talk to them about this when I'm ready.

PPS. Please use contraceptives if you're not ready to have a baby. This goes to both men and ladies.

Thank you for your time. So Much Love from Sarah Mei Lyana.

Many things have changed since then. For one, I don't believe in God, nor the afterlife, so if such a thing happened to me again and I wasn't ready, I wouldn't be as attached to the baby, and abortion would surely be more of a viable option.

I also don't see Joey as having either a halo nor a pitchfork. He was a decentish guy, he housed me and we did lots of fun things together and we were friends, but he never signed up for a baby, and obviously, neither did I. I romanticised him too much, but it has eventually all faded away to reality. Of course, he was a dickhead for not wearing protection and then not being responsible for the aftermath but I guess worse things have happened. I now see that perhaps if I'd had that baby, I would and could have eventually cut Joey off from being a parent, because he was a dickhead, and the other person in my life who is always a dickhead is my biological dad, who remains a dickhead to this day, at the age of forty-six.

I think most importantly, though, especially after having gone through the miscarriage and the one and a half years of all sorts of mental and physical handicaps I've had since then, and the support systems I've come to rely on, and those that began to disintegrate, I've realised just how important parenthood is. I would not have been as good or as equipped a parent to a child if I didn't know what I know now, and that is at twenty-six years old, or even beyond, a child may and would still need their parent's support, and for their parent(s) to be in their corner, instead of against them, and if I ever, ever had an adoptive kid, I would make sure that I truly loved them unconditionally.