Sadder than sad.

Turned on the tv today, and they happened to be screening this Taiwanese movie 比悲伤更悲伤的故事. Loosely translated, it means ‘A sorrowful story more than being sorrowful’, but I think it’s official English title is More Than Blue.

Anyway it was released the end of last year and I have never watched it. People who have, tell me it’s a tear-jerker. Even X told me he cried in the cinema and that’s like quite the feat.

So prepared I was to shed a tear or two. I won’t spoil it for you in case you’re intrigued after reading this post, but I think I cried for two reasons. The first being, like everybody said, a really sad show. And the second, how closely I relate to it. Two people who love each other but never confessing their love. Ok at least it resonates on my part. I will never know if X also has any feelings for me but some of the things that he did and say are exactly what the male lead did/say.

And the official sound track. My god. It’s so heart-wrenching.

陪伴我呼吸 決定我微笑模樣
是笑著與你分開 思念卻背對背張望
剩下倔強 剩下合照一張

Again, loosely translated (because my Chinese is not the best):

There’s a kind of sorrow/ Where your name is stuck on my past/ Accompanying me as I breathe, determining how I smile/ Unable to forget

There’s a kind of sorrow/ That’s laughing while being apart from you/ Missing you and always looking around for you/ What’s left is stubbornness, leaving behind only a picture of us

Yup. As you can tell, I still cannot get over him. There are moments when I almost cave in, but I have to force myself to think of the heartbreaking words he said to me in order to stop myself. It’s now been almost five months. How long more am I going to need?



I made the first move.

I am terribly sorry, but you guys will have to put up with my sappy and melancholy mood for as long as it takes to get out of this funk. We have just passed 120 days of zero communication and I’m so close to breaking. Let’s talk about happier times.

26 April 2012, Thursday.

It was just a few days before my final class with X and I emailed him to check on a couple of details because the canvas colour that we were supposed to prime for class kept changing. And then.. I’m not sure what came over me but something in me must have gone fuck this shit, let’s just ask him out, so ask him out I did. This was what I shamelessly emailed him. And yes, to set the record straight (not that there was much doubt to begin with), I was the one to make the first move. You go girl.

And with bated breath, I quickly hit send and awaited his reply. Of course, you can imagine my elation when he replied positively. I took it as a good sign that he too, perhaps had a slight interest in me.

28 April 2012, Saturday.

You cannot imagine how excited I was. I couldn’t wait for class to end. In the six weeks I spent with him in class, our interaction was minimal. Much later I found out that I was in his very first class so he didn’t have experience and the class size was a bit too big. It was difficult getting his attention because everyone else sought for his help. But whatever little attention I got from him, was a little exciting. Because he’d either be holding and guiding my hand, or else he’d be bent over my shoulder, in extreme proximity. Thinking back, it’s kinda sad that that was probably the closest contact we’ve ever had. Sure, we have brushed fingers multiple times over the years, but never really got past that stage too. Ok back to that day.

So after class, I helped him to pack up and we walked to this coffeeshop about 15 minutes away to have lunch. This was some mean feat on my part. I’m ok with walking, but in our sweltering weather, it’d be a big NO. But of course I did without a word of complaint (slut!). I’d walk to the ends of the world with him if I could. We ordered a few dishes too many, ate till we were stuffed, he refused to let me pay my share of the meal, and we crossed the street to Raffles Hotel for a drink. He tells me that they serve the best Teh Tarik (literally pulled tea- the person “pulls” the tea with milk from two mugs away from each other, thus creating a frothy mixture that supposedly enhances the flavour of the tea) there.

Who am I to question him? He could be feeding me poison and I’d probably still agree that it’s the best tasting shit I’ve ever had. At this point, you can tell that I was very smitten because I actually had a hot drink. Everyone who knows me knows that I always have my coffee/tea iced because of said sweltering weather. So the forbidden combination of weather + perspiration + walking + eating in a non-air conditioned place + drinking a hot beverage was actually all done by me. In a short span of a few hours. Looking back, I’m slightly ashamed at how spineless I was.

AND WHAT WALL?!?! The “wall” I supposedly built must be made of rice paper or something. What the hell it crumbled so easily. Bloody weak woman.

Obviously I can’t remember what we talked about but I’m sure it was a getting-to-know-you session. And sadly and too quickly, we had to part because he had another appointment to go to. What I do remember vividly was smiling to myself like an idiot on the bus ride home because we were texting each other non-stop. I remember telling me about the uncontrollable kids at the workshop he was conducting and just general chatter. And there I was, naively thinking that this was the start of something special. I really did believe that we had a certain fission going on. Silly.


When stars align.

03 March 2012.

I had just completed my part-time degree and after having no life for almost two years, I wasn’t used to having so much free time without having to rush out essays or projects (the human mind is so complex to understand lol). My uni course mate was the one who recommended me the short courses at LaSalle. They were not too expensive, and did not require long-term commitment. So without any reservation, I just decided to go for it. Oil painting for beginners. I was always interested in art but never really pursued it because life happened. Also, oil painting was a medium I never explored so I thought it’d be fun.

At 10am, after a short introduction to the school and being brought to class, there he was. Looking a little awkward and exotic. Only after he wrote his name on the board, was I able to confirm his ethnicity (not that it was important, but just couldn’t place a finger on what he was). The class went by rather uneventfully. I was more concerned in getting my proportions and colours right. I remembered painting a Sephora paper bag that day. By the end of the lesson, I thought that he was quite cute (as in adorable not hot kinda cute) because he had these little mannerisms which were quite endearing. And what struck me was how patient, gentle and mild-mannered he was.

It wasn’t love at first sight. Neither was it lust at first sight. You know how people have an idea of what their “ideal” man/woman would hopefully look like? Well, he was the complete opposite of mine. Of course, now that I’m older, I realise that there’s no such thing as ideal. Sure one can hope, but I think it’s more a matter of how much you’re willing to accept.

The course was supposed to be eight weeks long, and I only went for six because I took a holiday in between. Being away wasn’t necessarily bad (waste of money because there were no make up classes!), because I had to email him to ask for “homework”, and to catch up on what I’d missed. And by this time, he was slowly, but surely starting to grow on me. I was feeling both excited and scared. By this time, my wall was built so high, but yet I was afraid of letting my guard down. And because the relationship between us thus far was purely professional, I didn’t know what was going to come out of it (if anything ever did; even though we all know now that nothing has).

In case you’re a bit confused, this is the story of how X and I met. I’m writing this partially because this forms an important part of my memories and I don’t ever want to forget it, so this is something I can look back upon if my memory fades. Another reason is how I’m still missing him so bad. We’re still not talking, and the pain isn’t dissipating like how I expected it to be.

I have seven years of memories, so don’t be impatient. I’ll write about them sporadically. The next time I write, it will be about our first outing, away from classes. I still smile when I think back on it. 😢 (but with an upturned mouth)


Love of My Life.

On my way to Hong Kong last week, I watched Bohemian Rhapsody (I know, I’m just slow by about a year that’s all) and I was so riveted. I always thought I only knew a couple of songs by Queen, but upon coming back and downloading their songs on Spotify, I realised I know a vast majority of their songs. Colour me stupid.

Anyway that’s not really the point I wanted to make. The moment Rami Malek came on screen, my eyes *boing-ed* like how cartoon characters have springs on their eyes. His resemblance to X is uncanny. I reckon it’s the protruding mouth to portray Freddie Mercury. Either that or I’m missing him tremendously. By the way, it’s been more than 90 days now BUT WHO’S REALLY KEEPING TRACK.

And so throughout the movie, every time Rami/Freddie comes on (which is like every scene), I keep imagining it’s X. Maybe it was the G&T I had at 10am in such high altitudes. And when the scene where Love of My Life plays, my heart wrenched. Not sure why.

So I came home and listened to the lyrics proper. And then I found tears streaming down my face. I swear I didn’t will it to happen. Something about the melody, the arrangement, Freddie’s voice did it for me. I’ve since listened to it on repeat mode for at least 80 times. And the part where it goes “You will remember/ When this is blown over/ And everything’s all by the way/ When I grow older/ I will be there by your side/ To remind you how I still love you”, I absolutely lost it.

Perhaps because it seems like what we argued about will not blow over, or maybe because now we’ll never grow older together even though we always talked about it that got me.

I’m so sad, so very sad. I’ve tried, I really did. But he’s so hard to get over.

Back, hurry back. Please bring it back home to me. Because you don’t know what it means to me.


It’s Sab, let’s say hello. “Eh-oh!”

So I promised to give you the numbers at my next weigh-in. I mean, I’m not literally going to give you the exact digits (sorry if you’re disappointed but I’m embarrassed by the numbers lol), but… THERE WAS ABSOLUTELY NO DIFFERENCE FROM THREE MONTHS AGO.

Well paint me disappointed. I was hoping for even just 1-2kg, but nada. My friends tried to comfort me by saying that I probably gained muscle. But come on. I have sooooo much fats to lose, surely they can’t all be converted to muscle immediately. When I expressed my extreme disappointment at my doctor’s, he attributed it to the fact that I’m on a full insulin regimen, so it’s not easy to lose weight. Not sure if it’s really true or he was trying to make me feel better, but hey, he’s the intelligent one between us.

This morning, I was looking to pack some clothes for my vacation next week, and I pulled out a skirt. Oh my fucking lord…. I was no where near in zipping up the damn skirt. It was separated by the Yangtze River or something. I last wore this skirt about two years ago, but seriously how did I get so fat? Depressing times indeed. And now, I’m so afraid of putting on like 5kg during my trip because our itinerary mainly consists of places and things to eat. Plus, I will not be attending my boxing classes that week. Good luck to me.

I keep reminding myself that the change will not come overnight, but it is quite demoralising when there seems to be no progress. I think, I really need to look at adjusting my diet, but that makes me even sadder lol.

So looks like I can’t say tubby bye-bye any time soon. Tinky Winky, Dipsy, Laa-Laa, Po and Sab, Teletubbies, Teletubbies, say hello!

Time for tubby bye-bye.

On 8th of December 2018, I wrote a post about me starting to exercise because I was putting on soooo much weight. I won’t pretend that it wasn’t attributed to no fault of mine. I take full responsibility for being The Snack Queen.

And because I’ve been such a negative, toxic person, obsessing especially you-know-who, I shall inject some positivity into my feed.

I have honestly no idea what I weigh now. The last weigh-in didn’t show any difference, and my next will only take place next week or so. Will update on numbers once I get them.

I’m still diligently going for my boxing classes twice a week, unless I’m sick or away for work. I do feel stronger. Even though I still huff and puff loudly (sometimes embarrassingly so) during class, I manage to keep up with most of the drills and am no longer the weakest in each class. I know so because even though I’m panting for dear life, I still keep an eagle eye on my surroundings lol. Need to observe my “competition” to make myself feel better hahahahaha.

A couple of friends (literally only two- but I guess that’s better than none) have told me I look slimmer/toner, and that’s honestly enough to keep me going. I thrive on encouragement and praises. This middle child syndrome thingy doesn’t seem to want to leave me ever. Other than that, some of my clothes fit me better. I no longer have to hold my breath throughout the day or keep pulling at tops because they were getting snug. I even have a couple of outfits that actually feel looser now. Hallelujah.

You know what I’m most guilty of? Admiring myself in the mirror HAHAHAHAHA. I’m super guilty of flexing my arms and checking if my tummy profile looks trimmer lolol. I’m no where near having any form of abs or toned limbs or such, but I noticed less jiggly bits. And even the slightest hints of some shaping (I don’t know how to describe that). I know for best results, I should be dieting too but I don’t really want to take it to the extremes because if I slack one day, everything is going to come back in double-quick time. So for me now, as long as I’m moving my ass, it’s good enough.

Still finding it hard to manage my insulin intake especially on exercise days. I’ve had to cut back on quite a fair amount of insulin because I get hypoglycaemic episodes almost after every exercise days. Sometimes even twice a night. Just like tonight for example. I gave myself less than what I would usually give, and on top of that I took in extra carbs which I did not account for. Yet, while I was typing this halfway, I had to go take in glucose because I went low again. Not sure if this will push my HbA1c levels even lower than my target, but I definitely see the benefits of exercise. Less insulin means less weight gain.

I’m extremely thankful that my company reimburses me to exercise, because at S$30/class, I’m not sure how diligent I’d be if it had to come out of my own pocket. That’s easily like S$240/month! I know there are free options out there but jogging really bores the shit out of me. For now, I’m still enjoying these classes so I’ll stick to it and see how things pan out in future.

One day, if I achieve my goal, I may just post a before and after picture to commemorate my success. Not sure when that one day will arrive though lol. And wait. I realised I did not take a before (you know, one of those where people pose in tights and their sports bra) picture at all. Perhaps I could just use any random photo for comparison.

If you’re on a similar journey like me, I know exactly how you feel, but let’s keep up together. And one day, someday, when all those people who shunned us because we looked like the cast of Teletubbies now want to be our friend again, we can show them the door. Or your middle finger if you prefer. Here’s to us looking hotter, naked or not.


Good night.

More than 60 days now. He used to be the first person I texted whenever I had anything to share; happy news, angry rants, random gossip, terrible weather… Just about anything and everything really. Because I really felt that deep connection.

These days, I rarely talk about him. If people ask, I’d just simply say we’re no longer talking to each other, and thankfully, most of my friends have high EQ, so they don’t press me for details. Still not sure if I can talk about it because that would mean dredging up those horrific revelations which I rather much forget about. I behave no differently from my usual loud, madcap self when I’m with other people which is a very good thing. Because the last thing I want is to have to talk about it. Or have others worry about me. Or gossip about it to others.

The nights though, are especially hard to bear. In solitude and when the world is quiet, that’s when it all comes. Every night, I wonder how he’s doing, if he’s ok. And I also wonder if he ever thinks of me too. Everything I do, I can hear him. My insomnia has never gone away, but only gotten worse. He used to nag at me non-stop when he found out I only sleep at about 1am. Imagine what he’d say if he found out I now only sleep at 4-5am.

I used to also share all my work woes with him. And he would always talk me through them. Now, I don’t tell anyone because they wouldn’t understand. Or care enough.

I think I’m getting better though. I haven’t teared (except now when I’m typing this) in a while. I try to re-focus when too much of him occupies my mind. The days are getting easier. The nights… Well I think they may get better too. The only thing that hasn’t changed is me whispering good night to him every night. He can’t hear it, but I feel better imagining the wind blowing it to his ears, so that he’ll have a good night, every night. And I miss you too.

Good night.


(Undo) Help.


Ok I know it’s been maybe 10 seconds since I posted this. But he’s alive. I decided to try the whatsapp thing again before reaching out, and he appeared as online. He’s also well enough to change his display picture.

I think even the heavens are on my side for sending me the sign I needed to reassure my sorry ass.

So thank goodness I didn’t do anything I would want to kick myself later for. I’m sorry guys lol. I’m a worry wart.


It’s now been forever since X and I have had any form of communication. While I was slightly miffed at the beginning, it has started to become slightly concerning. He has disappeared. He used to post about work and his interests quite often on social media, but his last post coincided with the date of my last blog post- 26 April. Other than posting, he used to frequently watch my insta stories too, but he has seemingly not come online for a reallyyyyy long time.

To be honest, I’m worried if something bad has happened to him, plus I don’t quite get a good vibe about him being “missing”. But on the other hand, I don’t want to make the first move and text him because of my ego. I know, I know, having a big ego never did anyone good, but after all the things I slammed him for in my previous posts, I definitely don’t want to be seen as crawling back to him.

We do not have any mutual friends (because he’s never introduced any of his friends to me), and the only people I know are his mother and brother. But it’s also not as if like they’re my BFFs and we have each other’s contacts and stuff. I’ve done all the stalker-ish things I can in order to find out if he’s well. Like trying to see his ‘last seen’ on whatsapp. But I can’t see shit because perhaps we haven’t talked in awhile (I don’t even know how these things work).

So the only thing left right now is to really try to reach out to him. I mean, any friend could and would show concern for another person right? But tell me. What do I say? Would a “Hey, how are you?” suffice? Or would that still sound a tad desperate? But to be honest, I’m a little bit afraid. Of receiving bad news. Or no news for that matter. Seriously, what would you all do in my shoes? This time, my question is not rhetorical.



Thirty days. That’s how long it has been since we had any form of communication. If I can be honest, I still think of him every single day, but not to the point of wanting to text him. So far, I’ve managed to tell a couple of friends about it without tearing (well done, me) and of course these friends being mine, they’d naturally be on my side. Both sexes did say the same thing about him, so I guess it must be correct if both genders can agree on something haha.

Forget about him, was a recurring point. I wish I could but seven years of memories cannot be erased so easily unless I got hit on the head hard and got amnesia or something.

A couple of my friends have very enthusiastically want to set me up with their friends, but I always say no. This whole matchmaking thing is so backward and awkward and I’ve been single for way too long that I no longer know the “right” etiquette for dating and stuff. Only bright point I can think of of being one half of a couple is the regular sex. And even then that might not be great. So I’m very very resistant to the idea.

I haven’t been doing anything differently, but I’m very thankful for the boxing classes that I’ve been attending twice weekly. Each class is so intense that I’m unable to think of anything else but to keep breathing and not die. Progress is very slow, I still look generally the same, but I noticed that some back fat has gone, and a friend commented yesterday that I look more toned. Lol as if “toned” can even be used to describe me at the mo. But I keep pushing myself with two thoughts. The first being, I didn’t get fat in a day or two, so I shouldn’t expect to lose weight that quickly as well. Secondly, I want to look hot naked hahaha. Not that anyone’s going to see me, but I can.

The days seem so long recently. Work is an absolute drag and I’ve never felt so sluggish about it before. I don’t go out very much either (or want to). I just want to lie in bed all day on weekends. I think I’m turning into one of those middle-aged weirdos. Have you ever heard people saying things like, “Omg that xxx is so weird. Must be because she’s a sad old spinster”, or similar things like that? In this part of the world where I am, single, middle-aged ladies get hit the worst. Everything they do or say can be concluded by the fact that they’re single, therefore deprived of sex, therefore having an aura of weirdness about them. First world country with such baseless, traditional, brainless thinking.

So great. I’m well on my way to becoming a spinster who counts the number of days her non-existent, one-sided soul mate isn’t talking to her.


The whole tooth (truth), and nothing but the tooth.

Has it been less than two weeks since my last sad post? It sure feels way longer than that. After my last post, he’s only tried texting me once more (sending me a picture of a bedroom he thinks I’d like for my future house; see what I mean???). I think I replied two words along the lines of not bad or something. I mean, you can’t really blame me right? If someone slaps you then apologises, am I supposed to embrace that person wholeheartedly? I think not.

So the past 10ish days have been quite hellish for me. Mostly because I had to keep fighting the urge to text him random shit like we usually do. Like I said, I cannot be BFFs with the person who just high-fived my face. Also because I went for wisdom tooth surgery. The last time I removed the right one was about five years ago, and I remember the process to be quite tolerable. So this time, I was expecting a similar experience. In fact, I was semi looking forward to it because I would get five days of medical leave. No work woohoo!!! To give you a summary, here are my insta stories. You don’t have to click on them because they’re all text haha.

I’m now in day seven (because it’s 3.33am where I am) and I can finally eat almost normal food. Just that I have to take really small bites and some things I still have to avoid because I’m so afraid of food bits being stuck in the cavities. All this time the surgeon said I only have to remove the left bottom tooth, but on surgery day, he informed me that I’d have to remove the upper as well. FML. Only silver lining from this was that I got eight days of medical leave instead woohoo. Other than not having to go to work, I wish I will never have to experience this again. Oh wait, I don’t. I have no more wisdom teeth left hurhur.

And you know what? X actually saw all my stories but did not even bother to ask if I’m ok. It’s ok, maybe it’s for the better that we cut this once and for all.

Ok I’m going to sound really neurotic right here but it’s really not ok. I do feel quite hurt. He really doesn’t give a fuck’s shit anymore, does he? You know, the shock from that revelation was so big that I still can’t talk to anybody about it. A couple of my friends have repeatedly asked if I’m ok and if I can tell them what happened but I can’t. I’m afraid I’ll start crying if I start to remember all those hurtful things he said. I don’t want to recall those unpleasantness, but yet I feel like I should always do so to remind myself to end this once and for all, instead of being this spineless person. Gosh I do sound a little psycho, don’t I?

I’ll be removing my stitches on Monday, so that’s what I’ll focus on for now. Please please don’t let there be any infection or other complications or any food bits that they’d have to flush out. Please.