This private space is where I write in hope I could feel better. Anger is a form of sadness and depression is very real. It is not a tool of manipulation used to control others. Manipulators need to work very hard to get what they want and for me, I’m simply tired.

Some of my colleagues and friends know my condition, how they are to perceive or handle it’s not my calling. They can try igniting but no guarantees it will only be a beautiful campfire with crackling fire. My intention is to literally put up a warning sign in my lawn.

Before you enter, please know the boundaries, what topics are taboo and here is my fragile heart, please I beseech you, handle with care.

However, it is difficult to understand depression if one hasn’t experienced it. This experience intrinsically is not a roller coaster ride on Oblivion at Alton Towers.

The closer I feel towards someone, the more I let her in, the more vulnerable I become.

I tried to sit in silence and attempt to understand what triggers my anger and how anger molds into sadness. I tried to envision laughter, happiness and hope. I depend heavily on my imagination to feel uncaged, happy and free.

Like a wingless bird on constant flight, no darkness can steal his light.

Talking to R brings some comfort. She had a better time with her friends in Tipo 00.



Growing up was tough. My mum practises and displays tough love. Her parenting style is always passive aggressiveness. We used to be closer but in 2014, the relationship took a downward spiral. When there’s a crack in any relationships, it is difficult to restore. It takes love, forgiveness and time.

Inspite of everything that has happened, my mum never turns down an invitation. She always have time to meet for dinners, for simple meals or even just a conversation. She doesn’t fit me into her schedule but makes time for it. She is always available because I am her priority.

We had late lunch at Oriole’s cafe today. I saw how happy she was and I controlled my tears. We ordered cheese sandwiches, caesar wraps, truffle fries, americano and death cream. Her appetite was great.

To think, I willingly shed my energy and set aside time for people who do not even regard me as an option. Misplaced, hurt, I brought it upon myself.

It is necessary to happen. Will I heal, I don’t know, I must.

Unbreak Me.

Heard of dysthymia? A less severe but chronic depression that lasts for a couple of years maybe, or more. I was diagnosed with that and currently undergoing 2 types of treatment; psychiatry and psychotherapy. I experienced nausea and insomnia taking Escitalopram. The last therapy session was painful. To remember what I’d wanted to forget wasn’t easy, moreover talk. I don’t think psychoanalysis suits me, if only cognitive therapy helps.

9 months ago I got to know someone whom I felt connected to. I was happier as I could see colors and the happiness grew on me. My appetite returned slowly and I was more than functioning. From a somewhat state of inertia, I looked forward to becoming. However my emotions remained vulnerable. The roller coaster ride stopped today. It needed to for the better. I felt pain and an indescribable feeling of sorrows. Picking up shards, erasing memories and stabilizing a turbulent mind. Non-existent is good.

I clung onto a book that made me feel safe, somehow it gave me hope. Will I take another 2 to 3 years to even feel happy again.

Within & Beyond.

1806 is a classic cocktail bar in Melbourne CBD, should be one of the best I’ve been to. It has over a hundred varieties of whisky from around the world. It is an exhilarating experience.

Another great place is Naked for Satan. A trendy and swanky bar at Fitzroy which serves delicious infused vodkas and tapas. Been awhile since I had appetite.

Seeing R again brings comfort, something which is greatly missing at home. Could be the familiar grin, her tardiness or perhaps her straightforwardness when putting things into perspectives. Sometimes the heart sees what is invisible to the eyes. The eyes see physical and logic but the heart brings to light the emotions and the subconscious. R doesn’t judge me, she sees me from within and beyond. I have almost taken her convenience for granted.

This short trip is educational.

With the turn of events, Fugue in G Minor by J.S Bach reminds me of someone I have a crush on. I interpret the melody as a continuous interweaving of sadness. Listening to it makes me cry.

25th Nov.

ilLido at the cliff was dissapointing. P tried the D’Augustation menu and I had Burrata cheese for appetizer and Fetucelle for main. The food wasn’t warmed before serving and the taste was mediocre for a fine dining experience. Perhaps the meal already started off on a wrong foot.

Drinks post dinner at Oxwell & Co were bad too. Negroni was too sour and Penicillin tasted like cough syrup.

I made my confession and relatively, it turned out to be an unexpected twist, or was it.

Love is patient, love it kind.
Love is anything but mine.
I can see your smile on your face,
And feel your warmth your gentle embrace.

There’s so much to be said,
But some things are better left unsaid.
Love is understanding,
Sunrise sunsets, lights to behold.
If you can’t hold on, you can only let go.


Life is a journey and I see it as chapters of a book. Metaphorically, the book is our fate and the unfinished chapters are destiny. Some say life is a race but perhaps we should run it at our own pace. Given time and with each experience, we are able to explore, create spaces, improve inwardly and outwardly.

But pace is subjective. It is both quantifiable and unmeasurable. Some think 3 months is a lifetime and it is only the beginning come 3 years.

I guess in the pursue of happiness I have somewhat taken a back seat, it is to so come what may.