Sister act.

My older sister A, is two years older than me. And my two younger siblings, R and S are eight and thirteen years behind me respectively. So you can imagine, that A and I had loads of time together before the others came along.

Perhaps because we’re closer in age, I’m closest to her. And close is an understatement. I was probably more like a leech in her eyes lol, following her everywhere she went. So much so that many friends till this day, are originally hers. I was just kinda absorbed into the group because I was forever in the background.

We have tons of stories to share, and recently, we were just sharing with the rest of the family some of the ridiculous things that we did together. Or rather, what I was made to do.

Being the pack leader, it comes as no surprise that A is the alpha and I was just her minion. I didn’t dare to oppose her till we were much much older. So when I was seven, I kept a diary, and A always wanted to read it. I refused, because a diary contains our secrets and innermost thoughts right? But her being clever (or maybe me not being very smart), she actually managed to get her way. On the pretext of wanting to help me improve my grammar, she told me that she needed to read it. So I stupidly handed it to her. And you know what’s more ridiculous? She actually made corrections with a red pen. To this day when I tell this story, she shamelessly claims credit for it and said that’s why my command of the language is so strong (I scored top marks in our National exams).

We were really like BFFs when we were younger. Probably also because our parents were very lax with us and we were always left to our own devices. We could talk for hours (we still do), and couldn’t bear to halt conversations. There were times when she needed to poop, and asked me to accompany her. Most normal people would most likely pause and continue after, but not us. I would take a little stool and sit outside the toilet while she did her business with the door wide open. If it was smelly, I would just cover my nose. What little inconvenience like smell matter if we were having such a good time right? I need to clarify that we stopped doing that in primary school in case some of you may have misunderstood us.

When we tell these stories, my younger siblings would laugh and call me stupid. I prefer the words naïve and gullible. I have tons more to share, but I could really publish a novel with all these anecdotes. So because of my naïveté, I’m known as not being the sharpest knife in the drawer within my family. But it’s ok, I know my true worth.

I will probably be sharing random stories here and there, let me know if you would like to hear more of my crazy stories. Just promise not to judge me after.


Lost and found.

Back in 2015, I shared about My dog, Spot. For those who can’t be arsed to read, it’s basically about my then-favourite stuffed dog that I believed was real.

To be honest, I can’t exactly remember what happened to Spot, but I always believed that he got thrown away when we moved homes 23 years ago. I don’t know why I’ve never attempted to look for him, but he still remains one of my fondest memories till this day. And I still regale people with my manic behaviour with regards to Spot.

So just two days back, my sister decided to do a massive cleanup of her room and there was some major de-cluttering going on. I was just sitting in the living room, eating some crisps and watching some TV. My younger sister decided to pop in on the mess and randomly brought toys from yesteryear out to show me.

Of course I remembered most of them. They brought back my childhood in an instant. But because I was watching tv, I wasn’t showing my utmost enthusiasm. Also, I’m quite a hoarder, so I tried not to be too involved or I would want to keep everything. And then my dad suddenly popped out from behind my sister holding it.

IT WAS MY DEAREST SPOT! I was so shocked and happy to see him that I immediately started crying after exclaiming “SPOT!!!” My two younger siblings started laughing at me because no one expected such a reaction. I didn’t expect myself to get so emotional too, but it just happened lol.

Every memory of Spot came flooding back to me. From the day my mum presented him to me when I was eight till how I thought him gone from my life forever. My older sister missed my outburst because she was in the toilet but she said it was a waste that she missed it. I’m just glad I had one less spectator to witness that spectacle.

But now, I guess they finally believe how much Spot meant to me. And of course I couldn’t let him be abandoned again. I know I’ll be turning 36 in a few months, but he was a very important part of my childhood, so he’ll be here to stay. He’s currently awaiting his turn to go into the wash, so I don’t have a picture of him, but I promise to show it to you soon.


My name is Peter.

I’m not sure if I ever told you this story (because my brain seems to be getting fuzzier by the day), but you can stop reading if this jolts your memory in any way.

Ever since I was young till this day, I’ve always been called variations of crazy. Some in jest, some seemingly more serious, but my usual reaction to them is just laughing it off maniacally (which some take as a confirmation of me officially being off my rocker).

This is one of my favourite childhood stories to tell because it’s just so ridiculous. I would like to bring you back to when I was just nine years old. My mum till now, had three girls. I’m not sure if her traditional mind was eating at her, or she really wanted a boy, but one day, she woke up and decided that I needed to cut my hair just like a boy.

My dad was working overseas at that time in a neighbouring country, and only returned home on weekends. When my mum told him of her decision, he tried to stop her, but let’s just say my mum can be really demanding at times (read: unreasonable). I cried of course when she broke the news to me. I tried to protest but as if she was going to back down. So the day came and she marched me down to the hairdresser’s with me still trying to make a futile attempt to stop her.

She not only ordered the guy to chop my hair off, but to even give me a “slope” at the back. That meant shaving the back off till there was no hair left to even pull. Even the hairdresser was hesitant, but mother dearest was so set in her ways not even an army of giants could stop her.

I entered the salon as Sabrina, and left as Sebastian.

I’m not kidding you. That’s what my mother started calling me gleefully. Luckily for me, I don’t have any recollection of being bullied or taunted in school (I may have erased it from my memory though) for looking like a boy. My father, I could tell, as he came home that weekend, looked extremely sad but reassuring me that I still looked beautiful.

And here comes the ironic bit. From vehemently protesting and crying, I became beyond accepting. One day I woke up, and suddenly decided that I would be Peter. No idea why I chose that name from so many other options, but I made everyone at home call me Peter. I couldn’t have done that in school because teachers would be very concerned for sure. I even went as far as not responding to my name, pretending that Sabrina was a stranger. I also suddenly stopped wearing skirts and dresses, and decided that I liked girls instead.

This lasted for about a whole year and surprisingly no one seemed concerned (to me at least). Not sure if people just thought I was going through a phase or just bring my usual mad self. And just as quickly as Peter came, “he” disappeared one morning when I woke up. Just like that. And suddenly I was accepting of “girly” clothes again, though I went through a transitional androgynous phase before becoming a girl again.

My friends are very tickled when I share this with them. I actually discussed this with my older sister and asked her why she hardly reacted at all. She just said I could be whoever I wanted to be because it’s my choice and my life. Wow. Such forward and mature thinking for someone just two years older. But she did add on that I was weird all my life, and that nothing surprised her anymore lol.

My mother till this day, insists that it was a lovely haircut. It was not. From the front (and I have pictures to prove it), it looks like someone put a fucking bowl on my head and cut it.

And I have one more confession. Do you know why despite me crying that I went down without a fight? Because I was suffering from my middle child syndrome and craves love, affection and affirmation from my mother that I would do anything to please her. You have no idea how many “you’re such a good girl” praises I received from her for days following the horrible haircut.

Sometimes, I’m quite amazed that I grew up “normal” and not needing any form of therapy. But maybe I should consider it. I have people telling me that I may have undiagnosed conditions like autism even in adulthood.

I think I’m pretty normal to be honest. Perhaps a bit quirky (read: weird) at times, but hey, the world needs people like us, otherwise how boring would it be? Right?


How did we end up here?

And I was right. The number of positive cases had not gone down, in fact we’re seeing an average of 700+ cases a day. And our circuit breaker has been extended till 1 June. I think it may get extended again because there are still tons of idiots out there who cannot stay the fuck at home.

Other than my three medical appointments, I basically have not stepped out of the house since mid March. I’m really quite impressed by myself. I miss my friends, but I think I’m actually a homebody deep down.

And speaking of deep down, in this couple of months, because I’ve had tons of time to myself, I’ve been doing a lot of thinking. In some cases, over-thinking. In early March, just a few months after X and me made up and stopped our cold war, we had a massive argument again. Without boring you with the details, I said that he always takes me for granted, and of course, he vehemently denied doing so. And I was soooooo mad because he’s a stubborn fool. I mean, I can be quite obstinate myself, but he never, and I mean NEVER backs down from what he believes in. Good on him for standing by his morals but I would like to say he is not always right.

We have since made up (again), but are you all sick of us yet? Lol. But I feel a difference after this fight. We usually go back to normal after a fight, but somehow this time, something feels different. I just feel that there’s this barrier now that never existed, and we’re being extra polite to each other. Our conversations have also dwindled greatly. We don’t talk everyday now, and most times we’re talking about the fucking weather. How stranger-like is this???

You know, honestly a part of me died when we fought. He obviously takes me for granted and yet he denies it and makes it sound like I’m the crazy one. He’s never in the wrong. It’s always me being unreasonable or asking for too much. And then I felt so tired suddenly. Eight years is a long time. Eight years of waiting for something that never comes to fruition is quite exhausting. And that part of me that died will never come back. The only silver lining is that I generally am caring less about him and his life. I don’t even ask about how he’s doing these days, or tell him everything like I used to do. I think I’m finally coming to terms that we will never progress further than this.

I do feel sad sometimes, but no one around me is rooting for us anyway. So it’s like I’m fighting a lonely and losing battle.

Maybe it’d be nice to start dating someone else. Not to spite him (because he said he’d wish me all the best), but to just move on from him. But on the other hand, I don’t really see the point in dating since marriage and having kids are not in my life plans. It’d just be a waste of everybody’s time and feelings.

I don’t know. Like I said, perhaps I’ve had too much time on my hands to over-think. Gosh I’m such a depressing person. I didn’t plan to start or end this post like this. Let me think of a list of other things to share with you all next time.


This too, will pass.

I should have a lot of time on my hands because I’ve been working from home since forever. But I seem to be even busier than usual.

So obviously because of my job nature as a pharmaceutical sales rep, we’ve been wfh longer than the usual person because we were banned from visiting hospitals and clinics much earlier. But perhaps my company feel that we should not get paid for twiddling our thumbs, they’ve come up with many ridiculous things for us to do.

It’s all boring stuff so I shall spare you the details but let’s just say I’m dying to go back to work. Our government has decided to put us in this thing they call the circuit breaker. In my opinion, it is just a fancy name for a semi-lockdown. And yet there are still many idiots roaming the streets. It’s supposed to run till 4th of May, but with the alarming rise in positive cases day by day, I say we might only get to see the light of freedom in June or so.

And because I can’t even go for boxing classes, and all I’m doing all day is eating and sitting around, the kilos have caught up with me I’m sure. So my sister and I decided to get our fat asses moving, and we’re doing home workouts three times a week in our corridor. I do not have high hopes of losing weight, but I sure hope I don’t pile on any more pounds.

A part of me is extremely paranoid. When I get an itchy throat or feel a cough coming I’m like holy shit this is it. And then I’m afraid I’ll pass it on to my parents who are considered the vulnerable age group. Actually, I myself am vulnerable. Because fucking diabetes puts you at high risk for every shit thing on this planet. Thanks.

There is absolutely no point to this post. My body clock is still screwed. But I just wanted to let you all know that I’m still alive (just in case anyone is wondering). This pandemic is affecting almost every corner of the world, so I hope all of you are keeping well and good. I know many of you are in home quarantine too, but I hope no one goes insane from cabin fever. This too, shall pass.


Dear X.

Because my job requires me to visit hospitals and clinics on a daily basis, and because of the Corona virus being so rampant where I am, our company declared that wet should all work from home this week.

And so, because I have quite a lot of time on my hands, and therefore had many quiet moments to reflect and think, here goes…

Dear X,

I don’t think you fully understand how much I [x] you. It’s actually scary when I think about it. How, and when, did I, Miss-independent-I-don’t-need-anyone, fall so hard for you? You’re not the most handsome, nor are you the most well-built (notice all the physical attributes because I’m shallow like that hahaha), in fact, according to my list of what makes an ideal man, I’m sorry, but you actually don’t fit into any boxes.

Not to say you’re like Quasimodo, but I think I know why. I like the gentle way you articulate, it soothes me even when I’m raging. I like your quiet ways when you think, and love the way you make me laugh with the ridiculous things you sometimes say or do. I love the kindness in your eyes. Have I ever told you that you’re probably the kindest person I know? Your caring nature makes me feel like I’m never alone, even when it seems like the world and her mother are against me.

I cannot say you’re perfect. There’s many things I hate about you too. I hate how you seem to have me wrapped around your little finger. You keep telling me you want to be alone, yet do all these things that make my heart turn back each time I decide that perhaps it’s time to walk away. I don’t like it when you seem to make me jealous on purpose, knowing that I get jealous easily. But I have no right to, right? And what I hate most about you is you trying to push me away, telling me that I’m better off without you.

I’m not. I won’t be. That five months that we were not talking gave me physical and mental anguish. How can I be better off without you when I cannot do without you? Don’t tell me you feel nothing for me when our normal, daily conversations span three hours, and we can literally talk through the night without sleeping for 10 hours.

And that’s why I’m so mad at myself. How did I become so reliant on one person? My mood soars and dips according to our daily conversations. This is not right. This almost eight years, even though sometimes fraught with anguish, has brought me immeasurable joy.

And even though I know this relationship is quite toxic (I mean I’m not stupid, I can see the warning signs too), I still stand by what I always say. I will always be your biggest fan and supporter. I will always be around when you need me. I will finish everything you feed me, even if you boiled rocks for soup. And as much as I hate myself for saying this, I think I will wait for you forever even though you don’t want me to.



Good lordy. Has it been more than two months since my last post? I think it was the flurry of activities that all came at once. Christmas, New Year, a week-long work trip to Hanoi, Chinese New Year, more work in between, and now the corona virus making everyone here in Singapore nervous, paranoid and selfish.

Since I haven’t blogged in such a long time, let’s not talk about depressing stuff. I’ll try.

Just some quick updates. Spent the Christmas period and New Year’s with family, friends and X, and probably ate way too much. And then I went to see the fengshui lady for my annual “pilgrimage”. Basically my outlook for 2020 is the shits, with everything going awry. She basically told me to “hang on”. Ok sure.

There was one thing that she brought up. She was perplexed that love kept appearing in my numbers year after year after year, but yet I’m single as can single be. So I reluctantly hemmed and hawed about the existence of X, and how we have this ambiguous relationship dragging on for years. She asked for his birth date (he’d probably be soooo annoyed with me if he found out), and she said that our numbers show that we have fate. Whatever that means. In summary, it seems like we’re compatible, but something in both our numbers seem to stop us from taking the next step (we all know this is all him), and she hinted at me to give myself just one more year and move on with my life.

How. Can. I?! How will I manage to do that? In a teeny tiny way, we seem to have taken a half step forward- he invited me and two of his close friends for dinner during CNY, one of them his god sister. This sounds kinda ridiculous but after eight years, this is the first time I’m being officially introduced to his friends. In fact, other than the few occasions that we bump into friends while we’re out, we’ve never hung out with each other’s friends. Not that there’s a need to because we’re nothing to each other.

We’re still chatting everyday. Sometimes on the phone, most times via texts. But our average is about three hours or more. Is this even normal? Do people still have such long conversations even after eight years? I don’t even know what’s normal anymore. He makes everything that I never imagined normal, and everything that I know abnormal.


Mid-life crisis.

People always talk about unconditional love, where you do something without expecting anything in return. So, am I bad person if I have high expectations?

I turn 35 in a couple of days, and I can’t help but feel disappointed. To me, it’s a mini milestone because I officially turn middle-aged i.e OLD. Who knows how many years I have left to live, but I now feel like I have no more excuses but to be a mature, all-knowing adult.

So can you imagine my disappointment when my nearest and dearest have no plans to celebrate me turning 35? To avoid sounding like a narcissist, perhaps I should give you some background facts and examples.

Family. My family conventionally celebrates by having a meal. My mum asked me a couple of weeks ago where I’d like to go. After some deliberation, I told her no need because she’s the one who always foots the bill, and there’s six of us, so the bill always comes up easily to two to three hundred dollars depending on where we go. Plus she’s no longer working, so she doesn’t get a fixed income anymore. I really meant it when I said no need after considering the circumstances, but it was the speed of her reply that got me feeling a tad hurt. Immediately, and I mean immediately without even a second’s pause, she replied “Ok then”. Wow. Was she praying that I’d say no in the first place? That really got me.

Friends. We have a small group of us, where we’d always celebrate each other’s birthdays with a lunch high tea session, or dinner. And we’d always plan weeks and months in advance. We asians have this thing where it’s preferable to celebrate birthdays before or on the actual day, but not after. It’s probably stemmed from one of those old wives tales, and these days we don’t really believe in it anymore, but still we try to avoid celebrating after. Plus, when your birthday has long passed, the celebratory mood isn’t quite there too. I’m the last person to celebrate in the year, so I waited and waited and no one said a thing. It was only because I think I made a passing remark (like wow how subtle can I be?), that my sister started planning. And because we missed this weekend due to short notice, we’re only doing it next weekend after my birthday is long over. I can’t help feeling a tad sour and bitter because for everyone else’s birthdays, more heart seems to have gone into planning, whereas mine is more like a on-the-way-by-the-way thing.

Then there’s X. Our birthdays fall in October then November. We usually just have a meal. For him, I wanted to buy him a meal, and I really don’t expect him to reciprocate because he’s actually not big on celebrations in general. Even for his birthday, we had to keep it low-key without any pomp or pageantry. But this time, he raised my expectations by telling me that we’d go out for a meal, so I was secretly looking forward and anticipating when he would ask me out. Then he dropped a bomb on me a couple of days ago. He suspects he has some health issues and put himself on an extremely rigid food regime. He no longer eats out for all three meals, and his diet is also very restricted. Of course I didn’t kick up a fuss because health comes first. But I would have gladly accepted a simple home-cooked meal with him. Even if we had to dig up sweet potatoes and have them steamed for dinner, I’d gladly do so because his company is what matters most to me. Sometimes I’m not sure if he’s being dense on purpose. I mean, does he still not know what I want after all these years? I don’t even care if I don’t get to eat. Just give me a glass of water and I’d still be happy if I can see him.

So like I said, overall I am mighty disappointed. All these expectations I had just set me up feeling like a failure. I’m not sure why I’m still behaving slightly irrational like a kid, but I really can’t help but feel that I’ve been sidelined. Plus it didn’t help that while I was out having drinks yesterday, there was another girl celebrating her 35th as well. She had massive balloons, her friends and her poured out from this rocking party van, and they looked like they were going to conquer the world in their shiny party clothes and heels. While I spent the weekend before my birthday sitting at home in my pjs moping. Oh god. I really sound like some big, fat, sore loser. One lesson that I should always remind myself of is that, the higher I hope, the harder I might fall. Should have this tattooed onto my forehead or something.


Who wants to cast the first stone at me?

Are you ready for a bedtime story? This post might be a little long because it seems like we’re trying to make up for lost time.

I previously mentioned that we didn’t talk for five months because of that massive fight that we had. And how my friends all seemed to start taking his side because he tried to talk to me three times but I snubbed him. I still think he could have tried a little harder but oh well…

Those five months were a living hell. My moods were extremely affected, and I was so down in the dumps. Physically, I felt this dull ache in my heart that wouldn’t go away no matter how I tried. Everyday, I battled with myself whether I should text him because I really wanted to. Yet another side of me held me back because you know, I’m such a prideful person.

So I didn’t like who I was becoming and wanted a distraction. I thought about taking some art course but that would mean there was a high chance that I’d run into him (and a part of me really wanted that). So I texted him. Asking if he was teaching this course called mixed media. He said no, and asked why I wanted to take that course and advised against it. And then we started chatting. First about the courses, and then slowly, about everything else.

I struggled internally for a week to decide if I’d sign up for one of his classes. A part of me wanted to avoid him, but a bigger part (I shamefully admit), yearned to see him again. In the end, I did sign up for his class- Soft Pastel. We decided that we’d pretend to be strangers (to not complicate matters). So strangers we were. The first week passed by rather uneventfully, so I thought that would be it for the next seven weeks. But ah, someone has grand plans for us it seems. I also joked that we’re like secret lovers because in class we pretend to be strangers, but we secretly meet in the carpark after everyone else has vacated.

Now, we were back to normal. It’s as if the five months of silence didn’t happen. In fact, it seemed like we were better than normal. From week two, we started going for supper after class, and each week, we stayed later and later. Midnight. 1am. 2am. 3am. And then on week six, I was at his house beyond 7am. At this point, a couple of friends who were in the know were squealing with excitement because they thought, finally! However, I’d have to disappoint everybody. We did not do jackshit but talk through the night.

I’m actually quite amazed as well. Time just flew by and we chatted for hours. About anything and everything. I don’t think I’ve done this with anybody else. This is also why I always call him my soul mate, but it’s probably one-sided. My friends think otherwise. They think he also doesn’t want me to leave because he keeps offering me more tea even though at one point he was yawning non-stop and I said I should go.

Last week, he even suggested that we head straight to his home to eat and have a movie night in. It didn’t materialise because his cat was unwell and he didn’t want him to feel stressed by the presence of strangers (which I technically not am because his cat and I have seen each other for seven years). But I was secretly glad because I had a full week of joint calls with my manager. A part of me worried how I’d be able to work properly if I didn’t sleep again.

And we’ve been texting every single day (except today because we had another disagreement again) too. This is more than our usual because sometimes we have lapses of days in between.

Tomorrow’s our last class, and I’m not sure what will transpire after that. I’m quite sure our meet ups will be greatly reduced and back to square one, but one can hope.


Oh no you didn’t.

Hello. I’ve been missing for awhile now I know. Nothing bad happened. It’s just that… I’m not sure how I was going to tell you all. About the about turn my life suddenly took.

Perhaps some of you would like to gather some little stones and pebbles (nothing too big please, you do not want to kill me. Or maybe you do haha) to throw at me but…

X and I are talking again. Back to normal. Even better than usual I think. I have to admit that I caved. The five months of radio silence was eating away at me so bad that I was so worried I would lose myself completely. Excuses! I can hear some of you saying. A part of me kept telling myself that too, but I was also starting to worry some of my friends who noticed I wasn’t quite myself.

I started telling some friends about how the five months of silence came about, and some of them actually said I was at fault because he tried to reach out three times and I ignored it. So they said, he probably thought I was still mad and decided to leave me alone until I stopped being angry. I still think his efforts were weak and he should have tried a little harder. But then we could be arguing about this for three days and nights and we would probably go nowhere.

I have to be up for work in less than five hours, so I’ll just leave you with this for now. The full story, I promise in my next post. Good night.