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What are you doing this evening?

11.50 PM

I opened WordPress for the first time in a while. I had the urge to write, but I’m not sure where to start. So much has happened the past few months, good and bad. Mostly good, honestly.

The highs have been really high, but the lows felt like a bit of hell. Part of me wants to stick to writing about the good stuff, all the positive vibes and shit.  Another part wonders if I should let myself vent a little too. Still deciding which side wins.

Well, maybe answering this prompt isn’t such a bad way to start.

-K

Heaven knows I’m suspicious now

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Sometimes (err..well…most of the time) when life’s actually going good, I get this weird feeling like, okay… things are peaceful now, I’m happy, shit feels aligned… but for how long? What’s the catch?

It’s like this voice in the back of my head yelling and forcing me not to get too comfortable. It’s not that I want bad shit to happen, let’s be clear, I’m not out here manifesting disasters (ew no thanks), but I kinda have the urge to be ready all the time and it’s tiring. And annoying. And frustrating sometimes.

You know what’s funny? Lately life’s actually been ✨very delightful✨. Things are kind of working out in my favour. Well my love life is still shit but whatever, it doesn’t even matter that much in the grand scheme of things. I’m talking about work (it’s been fantastic!!), had fun things with great friends, finances aren’t crying, I got a cute kitten who made me smile every morning, I’m doing fun shit. I feel genuinely thankful every day.

Here’s the weird part; whenever something doesn’t go well (yeah, like when my visa was refused not once but TWICE so I had to reapply again, can you believe that? 😒), I kinda feel… relieved. Like yeah I was pissed when it happened, obviously, but once I calmed down I thought, “Yeah cool, that’s the bad luck portion for this round. I’ve paid my pain tax, so I should be safe now. I can go back to enjoying the good shit.”

It’s messed up, I know. But in a way, it makes sense to me. As long as it’s not messing with my job; and my mum, dad, and my kitten are still out here being immortal, I can handle a few bumps. The little roadblocks make me feel like I’ve earned my peace. Like the universe just needed a quick sacrifice so I could keep living soft.

Well I guess a lot of that comes from past stuff; traumas, disappointments, things that didn’t work out when they should’ve. Moments where things fell apart with no warning–or maybe the signs were there and I was just too dumb to notice. So now, part of me lowkey scans for exits even during the best times. Sucks, ’cause I want to enjoy the good without second-guessing it.

I’m learning though. Learning that joy doesn’t have to be followed by pain, trying to trust life again. That maybe, just maybe, I deserve soft days and easy laughter. And if the hard moments come again (they always do), I’ll deal with them when they arrive, not before.

For now, I’m trying to let the good be good. Even if it’s scary.

Anyway. If you feel the same, you’re not alone. We’re fine. Probably. Maybe. Hell, I don’t even know why I wrote this. I was listening to The Smiths (hence the title💀) and I blacked out emotionally for a second.

Thanks for reading, now look at my cat, ain’t she the cutest x

-K

Image

Nu sticker jag 👋🏼

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There are places that shape you, rhythms that become second nature, spaces that feel like home; until they don’t. The shift is never sudden. The kind of shift you notice but can’t quite name; until you, and apparently some of others too, can…

Familiar faces remained, the ones who made every day worth it. The ones who turned these mundane activities into something more….meaningful. But some forces change the shape of a place, tilt the balance, steal the warmth. That’s what happened. The air changed. The warmth faded. And yesterday, I walked away.

Leaving these incredible people was hard, but so was knowing that one thing could make staying unbearable. I held on, hoping it was just a phase. Hoping I could bend without breaking. But when you’re no longer heard, your voice starts to feel small, you realise; it’s time. You don’t stay in places that make you shrink.

For the first time in years, I can finally say: New Year, New Me.

It’s scary, I don’t like uncertainty. But here I am, taking a huge step into the unknown, trusting that something better is waiting. Hopefully🤞🏼

I’ll always be grateful to the ones who opened a door for me all those years ago, who gave me a chance that shaped so much of who I am today. But even more, I am indebted to the one who, at just the right moment, handed me a key to something new, right when I needed it most. You know who you are, so if you read this: thank you. May your days always feel like sunny Saturdays x

Some endings ain’t about slamming doors shut. Sometimes, it’s just realising you were never supposed to pay rent there forever 🤷🏼‍♀️😂

Here’s to fresh starts. To voices that listen. To finding home again.

-K

Echoes of The Star

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That night was beyond anything I could have imagined. Was it the moon? Yes, in part. But little did you know, you were the greater presence.

I know my limits well. I’m aware of where I belong and where I don’t. I’ve come to terms with the boundaries of my world, the places that are out of reach for me—and that’s okay. I don’t usually let myself cross these lines. But with you, I felt like I could.

That night felt like stepping into a world I’ve only ever seen from a distance, so far removed from anything I’m used to. I couldn’t shake the feeling that I didn’t belong, yet somehow you made me feel like I was exactly where I was supposed to be, like I was enough.

That evening gifted me so many firsts and moongazing with you was the one that surprised me in the most beautiful way. No one has ever taken the time to listen to me ramble on about the moon, making me feel like my thoughts were worth hearing. In its simplicity, it made me feel seen in a way I never had before.

And just like that, you made me feel like I belonged in a world I could never have imagined being part of.

_

“You shouldn’t limit yourself. Reach for the moon. Hell, reach for the stars.”

Your words blurred the lines I had carefully drawn. And you are the only star that I see right now.

And I know well that I am not one to reach the stars and we didn’t know if this feeling could last. But that night, under the light of the same moon we both admired, it didn’t matter. You were close enough to touch, and that was enough.

-K

Echoes of The Moon

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Some find their wonder in sunrises, sunsets, stars, comets, or moons. I’m no different. I’m drawn to the sun, but it’s the moon that resonates with me in a way nothing else can.

And that night, you saw it happen—how the moon silenced me, left me in awe, just staring up at it. You asked how it all began.

The memory of that moment is hazy, lost somewhere in the chaos of my mind. But one thing I do know—whenever I see the moon, something stirs deep inside me that I can’t quite put into words.

No words could capture the way my heart swells, the way my breath catches in my throat, the way it never fails to reflect back all the emotions I try so hard to keep buried. The way I can’t look away. As if it’s pulling me into its orbit. And as I stand there, staring up at it, I feel everything. More often than not, I find myself with tears in my eyes.

I don’t know why it moves me the way it does, why the sight of the moon makes me feel like I’m both breaking apart and being put back together at the same time. But every time I see it, I’m reminded of all the things I can’t explain and all the feelings I can’t contain. And for that moment, I just let myself feel.

_

And that night, it was beyond anything I could have imagined. Was it the moon? Yes, in part. But little did you know, you were the greater presence.

-K

Forgiveness

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There was a chapter of my life that stained with the memories of pain and betrayal. Some wounds ran deeper than the scars visible to the eye. Years have passed, yet the weight of not forgiving still hangs heavy in my heart.

Over time, I find myself standing at a crossroads of emotions. It’s a conflicted emotion, a raw and unfiltered sentiment born from years of torment. The scars, though healing, are far from forgotten. And while forgiveness remains my goal, a flicker of darkness sometimes still lingers.

Despite my efforts to forgive, a part of me yearns for closure, a final chapter to the painful story. Admittedly, I’d still be happy if one day I heard he dies.

This journey feels like walking through a storm of anger and resentment, a personal hell. The memories fucking haunt me like persistent ghosts, and the echoes of self-blame make the path even harder.

Yet, the most hellish part of this odyssey is not the revisiting of past wounds; it’s learning to release the desire for revenge, to extinguish the flame of anger that burns in my chest.

Eventually, I come to understand that forgiveness is not a gift to the abuser; it’s a lifeline for my own liberation.

I choose to unburden myself from the weight of anger and resentment, to break free from the chains of the past. I remind myself that forgiveness is not a one-time event but a daily choice, a practice of letting go.

I’m gradually discovering that forgiving doesn’t mean the scars will vanish, but it does mean that I can heal and rebuild a more liberated future. So, with each step I take on this path of forgiveness–though it sometimes felt like hell–I am reclaiming my strength and rewriting the story of my life.

One chapter at a time.

-K

Unintended short trip

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These past 2 weeks, I’ve been spending most of my days buried in paperwork. I often found myself staying up late, trying to catch up on all my tasks.

One particular night, after hours of staring at spreadsheets and documents, I decided to take a break. It was already past 1 am, I was tired and drained. But instead of getting some rest, I started to browse the internet, looking for something interesting to distract myself from work. That’s when I….randomly Googled my own name out of nowhere. Little did I know, this random shit ended up dragging me to an unintentional short trip to the past. 

The search results showed an old blog I created a few 12 years ago that I had completely forgotten about. Curiosity got the best of me, and I clicked on the link.

As I scrolled through the posts, it felt like I was walking down memory lane. The words I wrote so long ago, brought memories back in a vivid show. I read about my hopes and fears, all the trials and tribulations through the years.

That blog was a therapeutic outlet for me, a place to share my thoughts and feelings with the world. Re-reading the old posts brought me a sense of nostalgia and pain. It was like discovering an unwanted treasure, to be honest.

The posts reminded me of my not-so-flowery teenage life. After spending an hour or so going through the blog, I decided to archive the posts. I don’t think I want anyone to see a bunch of angry suicidal cringy posts created by yours truly, 12 year-ish ago. 

As much as I hate that phase of my life that made me post a bunch of cringy shits, I gotta admit that my past somehow made me who I am today. So, no, I did not entirely delete it, I just hide it from the world. The trip down memory lane is like a reminder for me, that I’ve been through a lot of shit and I unfortunately was able to survive.

Despite the continuous ups and downs, the life I am living now is actually the comfort zone that I achieved. I’m not saying I’m living a luxurious perfect life. I might not be surrounded by diamonds and gold, but as someone who used to hear the sound of shattered glass upon the hardened ground with every step that I take, I am truly grateful for the path I am walking right now. The shattered glass I stepped on is now turned into sparkly glitters. And to me, it’s a luxury. ☺

You did.

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She’s sitting in the corner, seizing her chest where I used to leave my marks, locking her eyes with mine.

I can no longer see that excruciating pain through her bright, sparkling eyes. The pain that I can’t live without. She used to stare at me with her bloodshot eyes. She was the prettiest when she cries.

She said I am as bitter as caffeine, as addictive as nicotine. And she loved me. She loved the pain. She used to.

“I heard you seem to be happy now,” I said.

Is that why you’re leaving?

“I didn’t, you did.”

Then my chest started to feel hollow as she slowly melts into her shadow, with a smile on her face.

-Kat

Monster

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Thank you for tonight, it was lovely. Let’s not see each other ever again.

No, it’s not the ‘it’s not you, it’s me’ cliché.
It was you, sweetheart.

Beg for your life, get on your knees until it bleeds.
Cry me a river, scream my name at the top of your lungs.

Do it.

But keep it to yourself, my love.
For you, only for you,
my eyes are closed, my ears are deaf.

Let my silence teach you what my words did not.
Words are sharper than knives,
but I heard silence could kill.

Yet you’re still alive.
What a disappointment.

“You’re a monster”, he said.
Oh, is it bad? Should I feel sorry?

But why should I feel sorry for being a monster, when no one felt sorry for turning me into one?

😊

Then the demon smiled back at her.

-K

Maze of Memories

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June 2020.

4:30 a.m.

It’s been three years, and the pain is still there. Crawling inside my head. Gnawing on all the happy thoughts, slowly draining all my energy. I want to end this suffering hell but I don’t know how. I’m stuck in a maze of memories I don’t wanna see. The more I try to forget, the more I suffocate.

I thought it would be easier to give up, but it’s not. I feel like I can’t go on but I can’t stop either. I’m trapped.

Regrets, so many regrets.

Should’ve been,

could’ve been,

would’ve been.

Those vivid memories keep repeating inside of my head. The anger, the rage that I held, it’s boiling up. They said I need to forgive myself, which I thought I did, but apparently…not. I wish I could just go back and save myself. I did save myself though, but it was probably too late.

I keep swimming in this sea of fire, believing that one day it will turn to bed of flowers. Now I start to think that the day won’t come.

And I’m tired.