#12mnthoughts

[thatgorlwhowrites]

Let’s Talk About: How Do You Know?

Is it when you think about him in the little things? Or is it when you think about him always? Or is it when you can sit in the comfort of silence and be confident that he’s just there for you.. always.

How do you know that you’re willing to risk it all again for him? That all the tears and waiting will all be worth it in the end because it’s him. How do you know that he chooses you? That he thinks of you and he’s sure that this is it. Because for all you know you could both be sure today and unsure tomorrow. How do you really know?

I think it’s when you start breaking the walls brick by brick. When you decide to let him in. When you tell him how your day went even though it’s not really much different from the day before. When you want to hear what he has to say. When you want to be there for him, through laughter and tears. It’s when he says he misses you and you choose to believe it. It’s when you trust him when he says he’ll tell you when he can. It’s when you’re patient enough to wait even though uncertainty scares the living soul out of your body. It’s when you choose him.

There’s a level of commitment and bravery that comes into choosing even though you’re uncertain. It takes guts. It takes a huge amount of trust; with yourself and the person you choose. It’s brave to choose to be happy.

You know when you’re happy. When you can’t wait to see him the next day. When you can’t wait to share this thing you saw online. When you want him in the loop. When you hear his voice and it makes you smile. When you’ve waited patiently and now he’s back. You don’t even ask for time alone, you just want him to be happy with friends and acquaintances. You don’t even wait for him to say he misses you. Because you know. You choose to know. And that’s alright. Because in the back of your mind you know he chooses you too.

wow writing twice in a night hahaha this is the effect of the rain lmao

[thatgorlwhowrites]

Let’s Talk About: Living Alone

It’s been 8 months. After living alone for almost 2 years, I moved back in. Maybe I’m overreacting or maybe I’m reeling, but the fact that it’s been 8 months still feels surreal to me.

When I started living alone I was so sure. So sure that’ll I’ll miss home every second of the day I breathed. And I did. I missed seeing my mom on the couch, I missed seeing my brother sleep in his room, and I especially missed dad’s breakfast. But on the flip side of that coin I missed my life. I missed eating whenever I wanted to. I missed binging shows, playing music non-stop, having friends over, the drunk, messy nights, the feasts I’d have at 12 midnight. Sometimes I ask myself, do I hate being here? At home? Where people are always there for me, where I don’t have to cook, eat on my own and wash my own dishes? If I really think about it? No I don’t. When I pondered on it I think most of it is I miss my life. My life where I called all the shots, where I was responsible of everything, where I could make mistakes and correct them too.

It’s the sense of independence and control. That I had my shit together and it works. Here, none of my shit works. It’s as if  everything I’ve worked for these past couple of years were trashed. I felt like my life was moving backwards. That instead of moving forward, I’m back where I started; in my room, in front of my screen, being told what to do. I was so sure I was on the right track, but I guess not anymore.

Or maybe.. It’s just a hurdle. A learning curve. Maybe I was brought back because there are bigger things in the scary void called “the future”. Maybe there’s a lesson here. A silver lining. And I can’t wait to learn what it is.

[thegirlbehindthisbloggggg-blog]

I wish I know what runs inside your head,

I wish I could hug you again,

I wish I could drown again in your entrapping stare.

Your absence makes me write terrible poems about you. I miss you.

Always,

K

[maggietay]

As I sat down at the carpark, puffing my cigarettes, the songs that we sang during the service kept running through my mind. It reminded me of the days I attended church every Sunday for half of my life. I remembered very clearly that during Christmas years ago, I stood on the stage of a church in Jalan Kayu, holding a white candle in my hands, singing songs to praise the Lord. My bro-in-law and my sister were sitting down the stage watching us perform. I stopped attending church for long period of time since. I can't believe the next time I sing these songs would be for such occasion. Life is unpredictable as such. #12mnthoughts