21: I am still obsessed with finding a title for my life.
I believe a proper title justifies the story. The story doesn’t have to be all that good, but the title needs to be strong and straight to the point.
It has to represent.
There are so many thoughts in a day and millions of questions that go unanswered, and here I am, trying to answer these questions, trying to put titles to them.
We are all trying to feel
21: like we’ve been there, done that, felt it all.
Example: “I behaved this way because…” — link back to my mother telling me I’m a burden — link back to my mother telling me I’m a blessing — link back to when holding her hand was acceptable — concluding, “This is why I can click with my father more, but without my mother, this family would fall apart, this family is important, both parents are very important” — ok let’s start a new conversation now, shall we?
I have been reasoning with myself to justify my routine.
I just need one minute of honesty. I just need a title.
As long as I have a title, it won’t be considered an excuse.
This whole life won’t be an excuse anymore.
20 1/2: Exercise responsibility. Find your integrity.
But writers lie all the time.
20 3/4: I still get bouts of “I want to kill myself”/ “Life is shit”/ “I want to get out of here”.
“But what have you been doing?! You’ve been at home, on holiday!”
I’ve been feeling homesick for a very long time.
I have no title, no excuse, and I don’t want to take the blame for feeling this way.
I want to blame the books I read when I was younger: they made me want something more from a ‘home’.
They made me want a life abroad, an empty motto like “It’s not your country of origin, but you’ll find yourself wherever you make your home.”
What the fuck?
Yes it’s hard, of course it’s hard, when you have so many feelings for a place, for where you belong, but you’re still getting NOTHING out of it.
But 21 screams its high-ass-pitched scream: Don’t feel old!!!!! Don’t get tiredddd!!!!!
Today was a typical morning, a typical day, but refuse to lapse back into a state of boredom.
Because how the hell do we get bored with life?
How do we drag both feet along without stopping to think, “Wow, I’m alive.”
“做人要看得开。” / zuo ren yao kan de kai
Translation: Being human, you have to be able to let go. (smiley face + gleaming, golden tooth)
Widen your vision, to see beyond your setbacks. (caresses your head/hair)
Wait and see. (this is a command to carry on living)
But Singapore has never taught me how to relax.
Here, we bear grudges. We are angry people.
Do you ever catch an ant crawling out of your keyboard, and you squish it with the weight of your thumb without thinking because all you want to do is not have it call its other ant friends to make your laptop their home? So you kill it, then you get up to wash your hands. Well, imagine a whole anthill spilling out from your keyboard, and to get them you have to type – type anything and everything, lie or un-lie, His truth or your truth – type until you kill every. single. ant. I have no time to wash my hands.
You will only know the meaning of life till then.
I am still obsessed with finding a title for my life;
I am still to kill every single one of those buggers.
21: The strife has just begun.