I've never been one to keep contact with friends for many years. If we've stopped talking, chances are I will move on. I've never had "childhood" friends or buddies who have been with me since school. One of the many cons of migrating all the time I guess.
   Thus, I never understood this insistence with meeting your ex-partner. To me, relationships, once they ended, was the end of the friendship. Even if people parted on good terms, there can never be the same interactions ever again. And I am okay with that. Life goes on, and I move on, and I don't look back at the things that was or could have been. For this reason, I am happy with the present. Despite the problems, this is what we have. Whatever happened, have already did, and there is nothing we can do anymore about it. Whatever could have happened never did, and hence, are of no consequence at all.
   It seems very strange, therefore, why you kept asking and insisting on meeting him. Especially so after the fact he tried to hide things from me. What was it really I wondered. Was it reminiscence for old times? Are you not happy with the present? Was it just catching up with a friend? Why can't this be done through social media then? And why the insistence I not be present if you do meet up? Awkwardness? Seems like a very arbitrary excuse.
   You asked me to trust you, yet I still find myself fearing. I don't like him. I don't like him at all. I don't like the way he is treating you. So sorry, and please forgive me if I cannot understand why you still insist.

      Long time, both in updating this blog, and also since the breakup, and the reason I started writing. A few months more than a year, and so much has happened.

      They say fate works in mysterious ways and indeed, that seems more and more plausible now. Fate, or circumstances, either way, I would not be doing the things I am now if it wasn't for the events that have transpired. 

      The people I've met, the things I have done, and the opportunities I was given, would have followed an entirely different path. Would I have regretted it? Probably not, for how can you regret something which would never have happened? Yet I would still choose the life I live now over what I had in the past. It is hard to believe how much my life, and my person have changed. I commonly joke with some of my new friends and acquaintances about how they wouldn't have recognized me slightly more than a year ago and this seems to be a difficult point to prove. Yet I am certain of these changes because I, more than anyone, know what I was, and what I have become.

     The memories of that lost era still follow me, but now, I am able to talk about them without the pain that is associated with them. Sometimes, my friends still say, "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have brought that up" but in my heart, I realized that I no longer feel a thing. Memories can only hurt me, if I let them and, I have no more reason to let them.

    The girl I have fallen in love with now, has become a most integral part of my life. She is vastly different to my ex, and that, is probably what I like most about her. 

    The friends I have made, both at KLpac and at MPYO, would probably not have come to be, if it wasn't for my boredom after the breakup, and my decision to really make something serious out of this craft. Where I was comfortable and lazy before, I am now determined and looking forward to a future I forge myself.

    To everyone who was there when I needed them most- Thank you, from the bottom of my heart. Some I may not talk to anymore, some, I still hang out with regularly, but all of you are important to me. 

   She looked at me from across the table, her expression, passive, her demeanor, relaxed. Her eyes though, were sharp. Looking at me intently from behind her large pair of spectacles. There was no mistaking it, she was intent on getting what she wanted.
   "post something, or I'm not talking to you." she said, softly, yet laced with purpose.
   I laughed. However deathly serious she seemed, she was so incredibly cute. Like a fluffy cat who's just issued a death threat.
   "but I don't know what to write about!" I protested. It was true. Nothing I would write seemed good enough, the content would either be bland and uninteresting, or the length, too short.
   "I'm serious" she growled, "do you want to test me?"
   I took a step back, I believed it unlikely she would actually stop talking to me just because I refused to write. Was I wrong? What harm would there be in thinking of something to write too? Was the risk of being ignored worth it? No, I concluded. I thoroughly enjoyed talking to her, and she's grown to mean so much more than that now. If writing something would make her happy, then I would gladly do it.
   "Ok then, let me think of something...", I conceeded.
She let out a sweet smile. It was beautiful. It was worth it I thought, if only to see that smile.

   She lay her head on me. I could feel her breath on my skin, slow, soft. Her chest rose and fell to her rhythmic breathing, a predictable and comforting feeling. Her hair was soft and smelled like fresh roses. It tickled, but in a familiar and comfortable way. It was, an experience I've missed deeply.

   I watched her as she slept. It was a rare moment of peace and serenity every living creature shared. The moment you completely let your guard down, and are at your most vulnerable. This appealed to me, it wasn't the chats, or interactions that made you feel at home with a person, but rather, it was the silence. The ability to enjoy the time spent together in silence, in sleep. It was beautiful.

   I caressed her hair, gently touching the outside of her ears. She let out a little moan, apparently annoyed at having her sleep disturbed. I smiled, it was cute when I annoyed her and I took pride in knowing I was the only one able to do that.

   "Wake up." I whispered softly into her ear. She moaned again, "what time is it?" she asked, obviously still half asleep.
   "Time to wake up." I whispered again followed by a small kiss on her cheeks.
   "Just a bit more..." She mumbled, apparently still sleepy.
   I smiled again. It really was beautiful.

   When you've lived life not given much, and not expecting much, there comes a certain perspective. You start to think you aren't worth it. This will start to show in you're work, your studies and slowly, people will start to think that you're worthless too.

   It then takes a very special someone to be able to come and see your worth. They will whisper to you "you're worth it" and at first, you brush it off. "what nonsense" you'll think "it's just flattery" and you go your way. This special someone however, will come and whisper again "you are worth it" and this time, you start to doubt. Maybe, just maybe, you aren't as worthless as you've been led to believe. Still, you remain skeptical, and try your best to ignore it.
   This time, however, that someone will come, put their arms on your shoulders, and say it to your face in a firm voice "you are worthy of my love". This is when you close your eyes, and realize, there are people who care deeply for you in the world. Not empty words, not spoken out of obligation, not for personal gain, but people who just genuinely enjoy your presence.

   You give them a big hug, and you solemnly promise, never to let them go. Again.

   The rehearsal room was filled with sounds of instruments. Soft melodies, noisy scales, violins, flutes, cellos, drums; a strangely nostalgic blend of noise. I was no stranger to orchestral playing, but it was mesmerizing every time.

   I sat there briefly chatting with my desk partner, a girl whom I've known for almost a year. We hadn't seen each other in months, except for the occasional hellos and goodbyes we exchanged when we bumped into each other in church. There was indeed much to catch up on.

   That was when I looked up from my position and noticed a girl sitting almost opposite me; a violist. She was beautiful. Her face was small and diminutive, which was in perfect contrast with her size. Ovaline, yet not overly so, perfectly tapering off in a sharp refined chin. Her hair was a long wavy mess. Not in a very unkempt style, but it seemed almost deliberate. I wondered if she spent hours on it. It was lovely. Her eyes were aquiline, the sort you see on asian supermodels. Not huge, like the trend these days, but rather, stately and almost regal. A rather high nose sat between those eyes, it was a contrast against her asian eyes, but for some reason, seemed to complement them. Her lips did not smile, but rather exuded a sense of seriousness. I imagine it was because we were in a serious place and in a serious situation. Still, I found myself wondering how she would look if she smiled a little. It must be beautiful I thought.

   My desk partner stood up and approached her, greeting her like old friends. She smiled, I was right, it was breathtaking. I wonder if she noticed me I thought.

People come and go
   They pass by everyday
   Some stay a while,
   Some don't even try.
   Yet most make promises
   "I'm here for you"
   "Whenever you need me"
   "Yes we are friends"

I wonder if they know
   How hard it has become
   For me to trust again.

Words are easily uttered;
   They can be said,
   With nary a hesitation.
   They can be typed,
   With even less consideration.

And that's why
   Words, don't mean anything,
   Anymore, to me.
   Prove your conviction
   Through the actions you take.