Memory Lane

Where Yesterday Still Has Something to Say

 Thank You So Much

Absolutely will never forget how my Sec 4 form teacher taught us the difference between “thanks,” “thank you,” and “thank you so much.”

She was giving back our test papers one day, and no one was saying thank you, so she started holding onto each paper and would only let go once she was satisfied with our “thank you.”

Then she got to this one girl.

The girl: “Thanks.”

Ms Lim, still holding onto her paper: “Thank YOU.”

The girl: “I said it already.”

Ms Lim: “No, you said thanks. Not thank you. There’s a difference.”

And that was when she stopped and explained to the whole class that “thanks,” “thank you,” and “thank you so much” all carry different levels of gratitude. She told us there was a difference between them and made us promise to remember it for life.

And apparently I took that lesson VERY seriously because, years later, I still hear her voice in my head whenever I thank someone.

I think that’s genuinely why I feel so bad whenever I only say “thanks” or even just “thank you” to someone when I’m actually really grateful.

Because objectively, “thank you” is perfectly polite.

But somewhere in my brain, my Sec 4 form teacher is still grading me:

“Thanks” = ??? excuse me
“Thank you” = acceptable
“Thank you so much” = NOW you sound grateful

So whenever I say just “thank you,” my brain immediately goes:

WAIT NO I AM MORE GRATEFUL THAN THAT SOUNDED.

She told us to remember it for life.

Ms Lim, I think I remembered it a little too well.

Archived: 10 september 2026, thursday, 10.47pm (chicago)

For Those Who Teach, Have Taught, And Will

A while ago, I put up a poll asking some of my friends from Early Childhood how many of us were still in the industry. 67% said they were. I was pleasantly surprised. If I’m being honest, I expected that number to be lower. Over the years, I’ve had conversations with friends who have left the industry, taken a break, gone on unpaid sabbaticals, or simply needed some time away from it. But the more I spoke to people on both sides of that 67%, the more I realised that the number itself didn’t tell the whole story. Staying doesn’t necessarily mean thriving, and leaving doesn’t necessarily mean you stopped loving teaching.

When I asked those who had moved on what made them choose a different path, the answers varied: burnout, management, toxic environments, needing a different environment, or struggling with an industry that seems to offer increasingly less flexibility. What stayed with me most was learning that some of them never actually wanted to stop teaching. They still loved the children. They still wanted to teach, to nurture, to make a difference in someone’s growing up. They didn’t necessarily leave because they stopped caring about the work. Sometimes, the circumstances surrounding the work simply made staying too difficult.

And those who stayed had their own stories too. Some were tired. Some were burning out. Some still loved what they did deeply, while quietly struggling with everything that came with being the human expected to keep showing up for everyone else.

Maybe that was why Secondary: The Musical stayed with me as much as it did. I watched it twice. Secondary tells a story rooted very specifically in Singapore and our education system, but something about watching it alongside all these conversations made me think beyond the system itself. Maybe because I was watching it from two sides at once, as someone who used to teach, and as someone who has spent so much of her life being a student in the Singapore education system.

I know what it feels like to be the student who remembers the teacher who noticed. But I also know what it feels like to stand on the other side, to care for children, to carry responsibility for them, and to understand something we can sometimes forget when we look at the human standing at the front of a classroom: behind every teacher is first a human. A human who gets tired. A human with a life outside the classroom. A human who can love their students deeply and still struggle with what the job asks of them. A human who can choose themselves and still care just as much as they did before.

And while Secondary speaks to a specifically Singaporean experience, I don’t think that humanity belongs to any one education system. It made me think about the way we talk about good teachers everywhere. We romanticise the teachers who sacrifice: the ones who stay late, give endlessly, push through exhaustion, and keep showing up no matter what it costs them. And yes, their dedication deserves our gratitude. But their suffering should never be the evidence we require of their love. Caring deeply shouldn’t require destroying yourself.

A teacher who chooses themselves isn’t necessarily a teacher who stopped caring. And a teacher who eventually chooses another path doesn’t erase everything that came before it. It doesn’t undo the mornings they showed up, the little hands they held, the lessons they prepared, the tears they wiped, the confidence they built, or the tiny pieces of themselves that became part of someone else’s growing up. For however long they were there, someone learned from them. Someone trusted them. Someone was encouraged by them. Somewhere, there is a human carrying something a teacher once gave them, perhaps without that teacher ever knowing. You don’t have to stay forever for what you did to matter.

For those who are still teaching, I hope we learn to celebrate your dedication without expecting you to give every piece of yourself away in exchange for it. For those who have taught, I hope you know that changing paths does not retroactively erase your impact. You are still woven into someone’s childhood, education, confidence, memories, or becoming. And for those who will teach, I hope you enter your future classrooms knowing that being a good teacher does not mean losing yourself to become one. You don’t have to suffer endlessly to prove that you care.

So while these thoughts began with a poll amongst my Early Childhood friends and a musical about the education system I grew up in, this Teachers’ Day, my words are for teachers everywhere.

Happy Teachers’ Day to those who keep choosing this path, even on the days it asks too much of them; to those whose footsteps have taken them elsewhere, but whose fingerprints remain on the lives they once shaped; and to those still finding their way to a classroom, not yet knowing how many lives will one day remember their name.

To those who teach, those who have taught, and those who someday will, may you always know that the care you give outlives the classroom.

Archived: 9 september 2026, Wednesday, 4.14pm (chicago)

The Fear of the Unknown: Rewritten

Bus timings went down and disappeared that day, and suddenly, there was no countdown. No certainty. No knowing when the next one will arrive. Everyone’s frustration is at its peak.

But… waiting at the bus stop, I realised how uncomfortable we’ve become with not knowing. We’re so used to countdowns and updates that uncertainty feels like a problem that needs fixing.

For some reason, waiting without a timer didn’t feel scary. Waiting without knowing felt… fresh. It felt slower. Quieter. More present. Like life before everything needed to be tracked, predicted, optimised.

Maybe the unknown doesn’t always mean anxiety. Maybe it doesn’t need to be feared.

Maybe sometimes it’s an invitation. To be present, to trust timing without proof, and to stand still without panicking about what’s next.

Perhaps it just means we’re relearning how to wait again, without rushing, without needing guarantees.

Not everything needs a system. Not every arrival needs a warning. Not every moment needs a pre-empt.

Sometimes, you just wait, and let life come to you.

The bus will come when it comes. And somehow, that’s enough.

Archived: 13 May 2026, Wednesday, 11.25pm

Uncle: How Technology Helped me Slow Down

For some reason, I am tearing up as I type this on the MRT.

I was walking past the ICA building on my way to collect my airport pass (yes, sis decided to return to working at Uniqlo airport), when an uncle approached me and asked where the community centre was. After clarifying whether he meant Kampong Glam or Jalan Besar, I told him I would walk him there since I was heading to the MRT anyway. He shared that he had come all the way from Jurong just to reset his Singpass.

Thankfully, the airport pass collection was OTOT until 4:30pm, so I decided to stay and help him. Before I continue, I must issue a disclaimer: I did not use his password or IC for any purpose. I tore and threw away any paper he wrote his particulars on, except for the one he kept in his wallet.

Who knew setting a Singpass password could be so complicated? As someone considered tech-savvy, I found the process unnecessarily cumbersome. Sure, I get the need for OTPs and 2FA, but the stress and confusion on Uncle’s face was heartbreaking. The counter staff did not speak Mandarin, so I translated for him, and watching him try to follow along made me want to cry. If I were in his shoes, I would have crashed out of sheer anxiety.

We often hear the older generation grumble about technology. Still, today, as I watched Uncle toggle between numbers and letters and struggle to find a letter on the keyboard, it really hit me: digital understanding can vary significantly, and even within the same generation, tech literacy is a subjective concept. Uncle did not even know that tapping on a blank field would trigger the keyboard to appear. But somehow, he knew the difference between face recognition and resetting Face ID. He could toggle the Caps Lock key, but did not know the difference between an OTP and a 6-digit PIN.

It struck me that my own grandparents are tech-savvy in different ways. My younger, maternal grandparents use tablets to watch dramas, operate the printer without any problem, and sing karaoke from YouTube. But even they panic when they key in the wrong Wi-Fi password. (Especially when passwords require numbers, upper and lowercase letters, special characters, etc.)

My paternal grandfather used to own a computer and printer, but only learned the bare minimum, enough to check on his stocks on the market. He would ask for help with everything else. I remember he would ask me to teach him how to do something on the computer or on his phone, and instead of teaching him, I would do it for him. Each time, he would scold me gently, “You have to teach me. If you do not teach me, how would I know how to do it the next time when you are not around?” And still, I would get annoyed and do it for him the next time without teaching him. I thought teaching someone was a troublesome chore. Well, life eventually led me into the education sector, and I had to teach after all.

For the older generation, technology is not a tool, it is a marathon. Every time they think they have caught up, something new drops, and they are forced to learn all over again.

After we managed to reset Uncle’s Singpass (yes, we did it!), he offered to buy me a cup of coffee, which I politely declined, saying I was rushing (I was not), because I did not want him to feel obligated to repay me. I did not know how to decline kindly without making him feel bad. He smiled and said, “I am lucky I met you. If not, I would have a huge headache.” I told him, “Do not worry, I would have a headache too if I were you. It is too complicated just to reset a password.”

What stuck with me was not just the system or the language barrier. It was how hard it was to slow down. I hate how we are constantly rushing through life. As much as I tried to give Uncle space and time, I know there were moments when I jumped in too quickly, when my patience wavered. I hate that when Face ID failed three times, I instinctively tried to bypass it instead of waiting. (We eventually got it to work.) I really tried to slow down for Uncle. I let him tap on things himself. I explained each step. But the look on his face, overwhelmed, anxious, still lingers in my mind.

I regret not taking more time to get to know him. I wish I had asked about his life, his family. I wanted to offer him my number, just in case he needed help again. What if he could not log in? What if Face ID fails again? What if he enters the 6-digit PIN instead of the OTP? What if he forgets everything I taught him and has to come back to the CC? I even toggled the “show password” option for him so he could see if he typed it right, because he would not have known otherwise.

After we were done, I started walking slightly faster without realising it. Uncle struggled to keep up while trying to tuck his paper slip back into his wallet. I noticed and stopped. I told him, “Oh, Uncle, you can keep the paper first. It is important, do not lose it.”
He told me, “If you are in a hurry, just point me to where I should go. No need to walk me all the way.” I said, “It is ok, Uncle. I am walking to the MRT. I will lead you there. Once we split, I will point you to the lift.”

Even then, I wondered: Did I walk too fast? Should I have taken the slope instead of the stairs? Will he get home okay? Should I have brought him all the way back to where we came from?
​
But one thought keeps returning. Maybe it is not that Uncle is too slow. Perhaps it is just that the world is moving too fast.

Archived: 24 January 2026, saturday, 9.25pm

SAD [Social Anxiety Diaries]

I realised I am starting to keep track of overcoming my SAD journey, so here is a little throwback:
Sunday:

  • Shopped and ran errands on the weekend before Chicago
  • I wanted to use the self-buying machine so I didn’t have to talk to a human, but I also wanted my student discount.
  • So I just queued for the staffed counter and bought three movie tickets alone.
  • I managed to talk to a legit human and chose my seats on the spot for all three shows.
  • I was stressed, especially when I knew she was probably judging someone for watching three movies alone.
  • I continued to leisure shop since I had some time left, and I even managed to overcome the anxiety of talking to the fitting room staff so I could try on something.
  • Also, it was another stressful experience wondering what to say when I returned the piece (I was rehearsing in the fitting room), but oh well, at least I succeeded in talking to her.
  • I managed to get home safely during the peak hour train despite sweating as a coping mechanism.
  • Fun fact: most of the time I sweat in SG, it is not because of the weather, but because of my anxiety😂

Monday:

  • I showed my ticket to the staff, and I stressed about how he was judging me for watching a show alone.
  • I watched the first show and tried my best to stay awake; the cinema was empty, though
  • I went to the toilet and walked around briefly before the second show.
  • I walked into the cinema again, hoping no one would recognise me and wonder why I was watching a second show alone. Thankfully, no one was at the counter, so I just walked in.
  • I watched the second show in a crowded cinema with no empty seats beside me. This was stressful, but it was the best movie out of all 3, so it was worth it, I guess
  • I walked to Genki, got a Q number, and then panicked for a bit when the staff asked, “Table for 1?”
  • I was hoping I would get a corner seat, but I got brought to a crowded part of the restaurant, and I was the only one sitting alone among families and couples.
  • My anxiety rose because I had to share the chopstick holder, wasabi, soy sauce, and hot water dispenser with others on my left and right, and it was awkward.
  • I just had to deal with it, and surprisingly, I took my time to eat and order instead of rushing to leave the place as soon as possible.
  • I ordered a second round because I was still hungry, and the waitress cleared my plates before my second round came; that was anxiety-inducing, IDK. Why
  • Still, I took my time to eat until I was the only one left at that long table (I noticed there was an adorable MLM couple, so I guess that brought down my anxiety a bit😂)
  • Before I stood up to pay at the cashier, I planned when to exit because I only wanted to stand up when I saw someone at the cashier, so it was not going to be awkward just standing and waiting. However, I could not see the cashier from my table, so I just winged it. I stood up and slowly walked to the cashier with my head down.
  • And then I realised there was no one at the cashier😭 But thank goodness he came out after a second.
  • Paying was surprisingly less stressful.
  • I walked around the mall for a bit because I was looking for a quiet spot to sit down and call the bank, but I also procrastinated the call😂
  • I finally found one and called the bank. It was stressful, but when I talked to the staff, they were really nice.
  • I stood behind the info counter for a while before I got tired and walked towards the btwn of the massage chairs and sat on the floor (because I did not want to pay and it would be embarrassing when the thing beeps)
  • I was pretty comfortable there Actl, except I was stressed when people walked past and when the info counter peeps turned their heads😭
  • But hey, I managed to do three of the hardest things in one shot, and I’m pretty proud of myself for that.
  • A: Settled the bank thing, B: Did not hyperventilate during the phone call (even tho heart rate hit the maximum😂), C: Have a phone call in public
  • Fun fact: When I was in secondary school, we had to call the office to tell them we were sick and not coming. Once, I had to call in while I was resting at my grandparents’ house, and my aunt saw me hyperventilate and had a mini attack while I put the ringing on speaker, hoping they wouldn’t pick up😂 When they picked up, I was literally breathless and couldn’t say my name and class😭 (I do better with phone calls now!)
  • The phone call ended, and I realised I still had a little bit of time, so I walked back to the toilet outside the cinema and walked back to the cinema to chill for a while, once again hoping no one would recognise and judge me for watching a third show alone. Thankfully, no one was at the counter again.
  • I walked into a quiet cinema, but it quickly filled up, though it was less crowded than the second show.
  • I cried the most in this show unexpectedly🥲
  • I took the train to Bedok during peak hours to find my parents, which I did successfully.
  • SAD ends the moment I am not alone

I am proud of myself for going on almost an entire day out alone (I usually go a few hours or half a day), getting so much done, being productive, doing a self-care date, etc. I think it is pretty ironic that I love self-care dates for me-time, but it is also when SAD hits its peak when I am alone. I was going to say I think I am only okay because this was in SG, but I realised I also went on a mini solo trip in the States (in a more crazy environment). Was it hard? Heck Yes, Every time I step out of the house, I wonder why I do this to myself lol; I still panic and sweat, I still look down at the floor/phone a lot, and I still overthink about where to place my hands and legs, and where to shift my weight while standing so I do not look awkward, I still avoid eye contact when talking to people, I still overthink my convos with strangers a lot, and only properly calm down when I am home, but I also feel pleased and proud when I conquer days like this. I also think it is contradictory that I love solo travelling and am a wanderlust, but I am diagnosed with SAD😭 Like, um? TAK MATCH YA KNOW

​But oh well, we will get there someday, I guess:‘)

Archived: 23 july 2025, wednesday, 5.48pm

Social & Emotional Quotient

No one can tell me otherwise:

It doesn’t matter if your IQ is 200 or whatsoever, your EQ and SQ is what gets you thru life. I cannot stress the importance of reading social cues. Also, not just being able to communicate, but communicate WELL with others.

I have seen people who are academically smart or filled with knowledge etc, but OML they cannot… absolutely cannot communicate and read social cues, and it makes ppl hate them, and a lot of awkward situations are caused by them, but they have no idea, because they can’t read social cues.

I’m sorry, but unless you’re being isolated in a room alone for your entire life, being able to socialise is very important. And no, I’m not just talking about adults, but kids too. Teachers can absolutely spot these in the early years, and let me tell you, kids who are not hitting their academic milestones, but can regulate their emotions and socialise better in schools, are favoured by teachers, as compared to kids who are beyond academic milestone, but struggle with their social and emotional quotients. And this is because we worry less for kids who are socially and emotionally smart, because we know they have the skills to survive in this world, as compared to kids who have trouble communicating with their classmates, who will have a higher chance of getting bullied, despite being academically smarter.

The reason why, ‘nerds’ are being bullied and hated on, is not because they are smart, but because, they have trouble communicating and can barely blend and mix with the kids of their age, causing others to think that they are weird’, and therefore avoiding them.
​
And you know what’s the worse thing, some of these people, don’t even know why they are being hated on, or the fact that they are being hated on, because they cannot read social cues, like not understanding why ppl avoid them, or not realising that others treat them differently.

Archived: 26 july 2024, Friday, 3.09pm (chicago)

peer Pressure

This post is a throwback to the Ngee Ann Polytechnic Students’ Union (NPSU) case.
Background: Campers were filmed peeing on each other, and the video was leaked.
This story is contributed anonymously.

I remember when the news first came out. To say I wasn’t shocked was a lie. But I remembered vividly that I wasn’t stunned, mainly because something similar had happened. Yes, I may or may not have been directly involved in the case back then, but it got me thinking, especially about the definition of ‘peer pressure. When I was an NP freshie, I remember this thing called the ‘freshman dance party’ (FDP) organised by NPSU. It was the ‘in’ thing back then. There were flyers pasted at every corner of the school, enticing the freshies to participate. So everywhere I went, there were always other freshies, some of which were my friends (none of us knew anything about the NPSU culture) who would ask if I was going to the FDP, and I remember I told them I was still thinking about it, I can’t remember the exact reason, but I ended up not going for the party because I had something on.

I went onto Instagram, and I remember very vividly when I saw all the photos and stories posted on IG, I felt very left out. Everyone looked like they were having fun, so I regretted not going to the party. #FOMO A few weeks later, months into Year 1, I heard from friends and seniors mentioning that the FDP was like an underage clubbing event with no alcohol involved. Because most students had just got released from the strict rules of secondary school, it was a very apt event for everyone to feed on their wild inner side.

A few months later, I heard others saying that the NPSU culture was highly toxic and corrupted, warning me to distance myself from them. They also cited some examples from the CCA Open House recruitment drive, stating that the members would only approach ‘good-looking’ students by walking towards them to persuade them to come to the booth or join their CCA. If someone not as good-looking approached their booth first, they would have the students leave their names and contact number down and tell them to wait for the CCA to contact them. After the student leaves, the members would then draw an asterisk beside the names to show that these are those that they would not contact at all.

To say it didn’t bother me was lying, but I just figured that as long as I brushed it off and didn’t get involved in it, it wouldn’t affect me.
Fast forward to when I was in Year 2, I was involved in a few camps, acting as a group leader and crew member to some of my juniors, and I remember a few of my juniors told me they were going for the FDP. I wasn’t surprised. After all, it was the ‘in’ event for every freshie. I didn’t want to ruin the mood by telling them all the things that happened previously, so I just told them to have fun and, most importantly, be safe and take care of one another.

When they heard that, they were curious, without a doubt and wanted to know more. At first, I tried to avoid mentioning anything from an objective point of view, but I soon realised it wouldn’t do any good to my juniors. So though I didn’t go into the details, I just warned them to always be alert and ensure that they could protect each other and were always there for one another. After hearing my accounts, some started giving the FDP a second thought, while others still wanted to go and check it out. I don’t blame them, though. When you’re at this age, especially given the opportunity, you want to learn about everything you can and release and feed your wild inner side. So I ended up just saying these exact words to them. “I’m going to be very honest. From a non-bias pov, I understand why y’all want to go. It’s perfectly normal since y’all are at the age of wanting to explore, and it’s really not wrong. But knowing what happens at the event, and given the reputation of the organisers, from my personal point of view, as a senior who really wants nothing else but for y’all to be safe, I would rather you give this event a miss. You will have many other opportunities to explore these things in a safer environment. I’m not trying to dissuade you from going. I mean, I would if I could. But at the end of the day, you are entitled to your own opinions and freedom. My job is just to let you know what happened, and if, after knowing all this, yall still want to go, then, by all means, go and enjoy yourself. Keep each other safe and sound by the end of the day.”

Spoiler alert: My juniors went for the event after all.

A few days later, one of the juniors came up to me in a state of panic with tears in her eyes. This was the most vulnerable state I have ever seen her in. Let’s call her ‘Kalene’. Here’s a rough sketch of the conversation between Kalene and me.

AUTHOR’S NOTE: I can barely remember the details since it happened more than five years ago, and the things I described in this narrative might or might not be over-exaggerated.

KALENE: It started as a typical dance party. Everyone was having fun with their non-alcoholic drinks. We stayed in our groups and danced to the music, talking and chatting while observing the other groups and trying to make friends. It wasn’t very crowded, but neither was it very empty either. After a while, we were focused on being in our own group and stood in a closed circle while not really paying attention to our surroundings. We next knew that a group of male students had come up from behind us. They tried to get close to us and started making small talk with us. They were very close to us, so much so that we could feel their breaths on our necks. They tried offering us drinks, but we declined. They then said, “Wanna spice things up? We’ve got some alcoholic drinks with us! But you cannot tell anyone, uh….” We knew better and once again declined. Finally, they taunted us and said, “Aren’t you here to have fun? Why hold yourselves back? Come with us, uh, we can help make yall feel high!” Next thing we knew, they were groping our butts. Everything came as a shock. It was too fast for any of us to react. It happened in a flash. We didn’t even have any time to process it.

ME: It’s understandable. Considering that y’all are barely 17 years old, it must have been the first time y’all came across such incidents, and therefore didn’t know how to feel about it, much more how to deal with it.

KALENE: It didn’t end there. My friends and I got separated by the boys and parted ways. So I was with another friend,” Enya”. They brought us outside the hall where the party was held. They tried persuading us to try the alcoholic drinks they sneaked into from outside the school. We firmly rejected it and told them we would go off. They pinned us against the wall and forced us to have the drinks. I told my friend to just have a sip to shoo them away, and we both pushed our way back into the hall. Thankfully, they did not follow us.
We tried looking for the rest of our friends and found most of them back. Except for one girl, Euia. Because our group had an odd number, and the boy group had an even number, all the girls went in pairs, but Euia was dragged away alone by two boys from the group. We panicked, trying our hardest to look for Euia ASAP. We promised not to separate and decided to stick together to find her as a group because we were afraid of what might happen if our group was split up. We ran from corner to corner, door to door, and even decided to go up to the other partygoers and ask if they saw Euia. No one did. At this point, we were about to pee in our pants. We were shaking, I could see my chest pumping faster and faster, and my heart was in my throat. I couldn’t believe it. This was a school event, a Singapore school event. This cannot happen at a school event in Singapore, one of the safest countries!! I pulled myself back into the present after realising I was lost in my thoughts. “This is not the time to decide whether you believe it. This is time for you to look for your fucking friend, Kalene! For goodness sake, think fast!”

I sprinted back to the door, where the other girl and I had been offered drinks previously, and sure enough, I found all the other boys chilling behind the door. I don’t know what came over me, I wasn’t even sure if my other friends were following behind me, but I stomped straight to the group of boys and screamed, “Where the fuck is Euia?” while staring hard at the boys. They looked up, unfazed, expecting us to come to them sooner or later. “Who?” one of them asked. “Euia!! One of the girls that were part of our group separated just now! Just fucking tell me where she is!!”

I was boiling. Honestly, I felt so much bigger than the boys, mainly because they were all squatting down on the floor, but also because I felt the need to act like that just so I could find Euia and not risk the safety of my other friends.” “Oh, that girl?” She’s with my other friends, they’re having lots of fun, ya know? Better than all of you!” The same boy smirked. “Fuck y’all, y’all are all fucking sickos!” I stepped over them, eager to find Euia. But the scene I saw before me with my own eyes was so damn fucking haunting.”

Kalene was tearing up while telling me the story, but she tried her best to suppress it. But at this time, she couldn’t hold it any longer and just broke down. I was, of course, shocked at first, but it wasn’t unexpected. It wasn’t like I knew how to react, but I did what I deemed best at that vulnerable moment. I shifted and slid my butt forward across the floor. I leaned my body over, reached out my arms and embraced Kalene as tightly as possible. I knew what she was feeling was more than traumatising. It was beyond what anyone would have thought. Imagine 17 year old taking all this in, within a few days, having no one to find solace in, having to deal with the situation on her own to the best of her ability. This shouldn’t be the case, furthermore at a school-organised event. It just doesn’t make sense.

ME: It’s okay to cry. You’re not a coward for crying. Your feelings are validated. No one would have thought that this would happen. You may or may not be blaming yourself for letting such things happen or even deciding to go for the event, but the fact is, no one would have thought that these things would occur. No one. No one except the group of boys. I know it’s more than uncomfortable to even come up to me to tell me these, to revisit the thoughts, feelings and images flashing through your mind. Honestly, you are so fucking brave. I wouldn’t have been able to do it if I were you. For fuck’s sake, I wouldn’t have been able to talk to anyone. I would probably just stay home and isolate myself from this world. Thank you for trusting me to tell me about this. Before I say anything or tell you what to do, I want to understand the whole incident before jumping to conclusions and deciding on choices. I know it’s gonna be uncomfortable for you. Still, it would help as much if we could understand the entire story.

KALENE: Honestly, I didn’t want to tell anyone about this, much more to you, because you were the one who warned us about the event, and I was thinking if I told you, it’s kind of betraying you and running back to you to your for forgiveness, which is actually humiliating. But I really don’t know anyone to tell.

ME: Hey, I really appreciate your trust in me. I already said before that telling y’all all that could happen at the event was just for y’all to be careful and look out for each other. I also stated that going to the event was your choice at the end of the day. I didn’t say y’all couldn’t go. But like I said before, no one would have to know what would happen. There are no such things as ‘if only’s in life, cuz if there were, everyone would be a time traveller. So, in this situation, we are definitely not trying to pinpoint whose fault it is but to find out the root of the issue and, of course, the subsequent solutions we can do to prevent this. In this case, we can do this if you tell me the whole incident in detail. I know it will hurt, but it will help if we are willing to take steps.

KALENE: Okay, back to what happened then. After I stepped over those psychotic boys, the scene in front of my face was indelible. Right in front of me was Euia, unconscious, with a bunch of other boys attempting to assault her…sexually. So I screamed to the boys to get the fuck away from her. I only remembered trampling on the boys and wanting to get to Euia ASAP. I pushed past them and knelt on the floor next to Euia. I screamed her name and tried to shake her awake, but suddenly there was a hit on the back of my head, and I fell to the floor. The next thing I felt was a strong pull on my blouse that lifted me a few centimetres off the ground, and the last thing I remembered was a large hand going across my face, and there was a stinging and burning sensation on my cheek. Whatever happened after that was a blur, but apparently, the other girls screamed so loudly at the commotion that it led to the other party attendees coming over to check on the situation. Those stupid and cowardly boys fled immediately upon realising they had attracted unnecessary attention. Some lecturers came eventually, but because we were all so traumatised, we could not recount the incident to any of the lecturers. We promised to keep it within the group, but I don’t know. The more the days went by, the more I felt so goddamn guilty about the whole thing. Who knows what would have happened if anything had happened to Euia.

The whole time Kalene was narrating the haunting incident, she was choking on her words and stuttering. The amount of tears she cried probably would have filled a bucket. She was so dehydrated that she started hyperventilating and having anxiety attacks.

I probably am repeating myself, but I will never get tired of saying how thankful I am to Kalene for trusting me to share this story. The pain, the trauma, the recount of the flashbacks, the effort to articulate it and put it into words and narrate it for me. I can never imagine what Kalene must have gone through to go through everything, the number of complicated emotions and the will to make decisions on her unclear state of mind at that time of the incident. She and her friends may or may not have gotten over this horrifying event, but they allowed me to revisit their pain and share their stories with the world. Truth be told, it will take a long time to heal from their trauma. I don’t think some people recover from their traumas, but I just want to pray for them and let them know that it is not their fault whatever they have gone through and are going through right now. It’s never the victim’s fault.
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EDITOR’S NOTE: If you or a loved one is going through any similar traumas, do feel free to reach out to us. Alternatively, you can call any hotlines that you think provide the appropriate help for you or your loved one.

Archived: 2 april 2024, tuesday, 5.50pm

it’s like the flu

I’m so happy that ppl are taking mental health a lot more seriously now. And yes, I’m not saying this just because I want people to understand me better or empathise such that it’s an advantage to me.

There are a lot of aspects to consider as an individual, as a community, and as a world. The awareness is raised. It’s a huge step. Really.

The most important thing is that ppl are starting to get more comfortable talking about it. People used to avoid it like the plague. People wouldn’t even mention anything related to it. It’s like the song “We don’t talk about Bruno”, citing it is just too sensitive.

But, I think what people with mental health issues want is for our world to be comfortable with it so that we can talk about it freely like it’s the flu. For us to not need to hide about ourselves. I said before, “Having a mental health issue is one thing. Having to pretend like you don’t have it is another whole new level.” If anything, I know that it’s more tiring to hide about it than it is to admit to myself that I have it.

Archived: 26 november 2022, saturday, 1.09am

commitment

Yeah, so the issue with me is that I might have accidentally over committed.​ I applied for Unis and at the same time, also applied for many other things, citing the reason that I’m afraid that I will most probably not get into Uni. But now, I realised that what if I get into Uni and everything else that I applied for. I might actually have a huge problem. The biggest issue is that I applied as an air stewardess, which is gonna have the biggest effect. At first I thought, if I get accepted as a cabin crew, I could just defer my uni studies, but now I’m thinking, am I doing all this just so I could feel like I’m productive and to make myself feel better than I’m actually doing many things so I don’t feel insecure about feeling lost?

Archived: 25 april 2022, monday, 2.29pm

survivors of suicide [sOS]

Me before you.
Don’t broach authenticity, don’t divulge genuine existence. Beneath those layers reside zilch.
Soul on paper or kite runner; Say what you will. Envisage Benjamin Button.
Amidst human acts, no longer human.
We have had nix lamentable transpire aside from our acquittal. We have countenanced the pusillanimity to obnubilate us, and in the current, we can’t eradicate. So we convene the fortitude to effectuate the immensely diabolical exploit we can perpetually execute to a mortal who cherishes us: destroying ourselves. The appalling truth is, we mandate it.
We implement it since it urges us to be hither, that we’re howbeit here, and that we have a voice of significance. It enjoins us that we are notwithstanding dominate.
We are inert here, in the medial, else we would be absent and feeling the loss. Erratically, it’s vanilla to be conscious. “Indefinitely neither contemporary”, the grey matter resonates internally. “Conceivably, pronto.”

Archived: 22 april 2022, friday, 1.42pm