it’s 11:11;

my heart is still raw, the wounds are still fresh, like they

were inflicted upon me yesterday. the surface of my heart is

jagged, it’s been hard for this broken heart to beat normally

because each beat feels like it’s ready to break through its


i’ve spent all my 11:11 wishes wishing for bandages to patch

up the open wounds and gashes people have hurt my heart with,

wounds that have been rubbed with sandpaper over and over,

while they rubbed salt against the raw flesh, like the sandpaper wasn’t

enough to inflict any kind of pain,

but it still pumps, feebly so, even after i’ve felt like my heart

threatens to give in,

it expands when i feel like i can’t love anymore,

and, sometimes, when it shrinks, I can’t help



Language update! + Mini Rant.


So, now I can read AND write Hangul! I’m so excited because I love learning languages, and ever since I ventured into the world of K-pop, I’ve been having the time of my life learning the language. Of course, I haven’t forgotten my Japanese! It’s just that Hangul is a lot easier to learn, considering it has lesser amount of characters than Japanese.

Buuut, I wanted to make this post for another reason.

The moment I started learning Japanese, except for my parents and some friends, everybody else gave me shit for it. It even went to the extent of them making fun of me for it, by saying stuff like, “What a loser! Who learns Japanese?”

The main reason I started learning Japanese was because of anime. Honestly. I wanted to know what it’s like to watch a show without subtitles or listen to those anime openings without having to look at translated lyrics. The only thing is, I needed classes for this because Japanese has over 2000+ characters, so naturally, it’s not something I can pick up fully on my own, unlike how I’m doing it with Korean. And the same goes to Chinese. There’s almost 5000+ characters if I’m not wrong? So when we learn languages apart from French and Spanish, with an interest, the LEAST you could do is be an ass about it. I’m sorry, I’m just REALLY frustrated because when I say I want to learn a language, I don’t mean ONLY French or Spanish. They’re wonderful languages on their own, but if I’m not interested in learning it, stop asking me why oriental languages and why NOT French or anything else. Like, why not Japanese or Korean or Chinese? Why is every second person learning French? Again, not that it’s a bad thing – but the main point here is that it’s my choice. I can choose what I want to learn. Just like you chose French, I chose Japanese and Korean out of sheer curiosity and interest.

So sit your ass down before I start swearing in Japanese and Korean.

Anyway, that is all I have to say, really.


안녕히 겨세요!

Hopefully, I’ll have something nicer to talk about next time. 🤔


Hello, lovelies! I feel like I haven’t updated in a million years. Sigh, this has to do with the fact that I have my final exams going on, and while I’d like to say I have been drowning in my books, I truthfully haven’t.

Anyway, last month I turned 18 and I forgot to make a post. I usually do on my birthdays, but I think I didn’t really give much thought to turning 18. Like, I don’t necessarily think it’s anything special. I’m usually never this bummed out during birthdays, so I can’t really tell what exactly is the reason I’m feeling like this.

(Although, I think it is because it’s an important age, because college, blah blah, stuff I’m only partially excited for.)

So, there’s a lot that’s been happening over the course of the few months – weeks, even, if I might add. My feelings have been all over the place, and I have truthfully become a little more bitter than usual, but maybe this is just a temporary feeling, so I’m not really doing much about it.

I haven’t been writing lately, and I decided this dry spell should probably end.

So, anyway, as I mentioned before, my feelings are all over the place, and I’m not quite sure how I should be addressing this? It’s weird, kind of. Like a very heavy, yet light feeling in my chest and I just want to curl up into a ball and lay like that for the longest time.

I’m craving some kind of home, that probably never was a home, but the warmth and comfort of it on certain days made me feel warm, cozy and happy.

It’s was 3 years ago, when I lost that ‘home’, but I want it back. Mostly because, I’m partly jealous someone else took my spot to call it a ‘home’.

A home that was my place during troublesome times, when a boy was my world, and sometimes, it got so overwhelming, I would need that comfort.

But it’s okay, I guess. I’ve made home within myself. But I’d like it if I got that chance again, to feel that warmth again, because my home here is a little bit of a mess, and I need some warmth, comfort and quilt-like coziness.

I Will Rise.


 A/N: This was inspired by a song that fills me with a weird sort of hope, that “I can and I WILL do anything.” I mentioned the name of the song and the artist at the end of this post with a part of the lyrics. This song means a lot to me, so yeah.

Anyways! I hope you like this. ^-^ Soz for the lack of posts? Life as an outgoing 12th grader is hard, smh. -A.

I’m perched under the sky, looking up at the clouds

that float around, adding hues to a colorful sky;

I close my eyes, and the world stops for a while,

I feel like I’m flying high, without a care for where

I will land, because I know, the landing will be soft,

and it doesn’t matter where, I just want to land somewhere.

Yesterday, I was alone,

countless gazes burning holes in me,

while I tried to make sense of what was happening inside

my mind.

Yesterday, I lost my balance,

but here I am, standing again, a little shaky,

but I survived another day, even if I was shaking against the

raging torrents of my emotions, a little petrified of what is to come.

Here I am, today, singing in the loudest voice how

none of this matters anymore, how I’m just going to fly,

how I’m going to scream, “My life is so beautiful!”,

because of the people, because of the memories that make up

the patch-work quilt that keeps me warm.

My heart has been broken, stretched, resulting it to be

jagged, and I spend my 11:11 wishes on bandages to smoothen it,

but my heart is still raw, like some of my wounds, but it still keeps

beating against its cage, teaching me in its own way,

that despite whatever happens, I need to go on.

I will make mistakes, I will fall in love again,

I will keep making memories;

and the moment I open those closed eyes,

I will rise again.

“kkotipeun jeomulgo homgyeoweotdeon nan
jageun bicheul ttaraseo
adeukhaetdeon nal jeo meolli bonaego
challanhage naraga”


“Flower petals wilt;
I had difficult times, but followed a small light.
Distant day, let it go far, faraway
I fly splendidly.” – I by Taeyeon ft. Verbal Jint.

The Versatile Blogger Award!


Lel, moving on.

Thank you, https://unostentatioustruth.wordpress.com for the nomination! Pls to check her blog out, she’s amazing. ❤

*Thank the person who nominated you and include a link to their blog.
*Nominate at least 15 blogs of your choice

*Link your nominees and let them know about the nomination.
*Share 7 facts about yourself :

  1. I learn Japanese. I’ve picked up the language from when I was a kid, all thanks to the anime I was/still am watching. But, I attend classes to understand the language, culture and the people better. 🙂
  2. I’m learning Korean on my own. I recently developed a strong *ahem* infatuation  obsession with Kpop, hence, the inclination.
  3. I read. A lot. It’s crazy. I cannot keep my hands away from a book. *Averts gaze to my Eleanor and Park book lying next to me.*
  4. I draw just as much as I read. I want to illustrate my own book, when I write one.
  5. I’m ridiculously silent, but I’m also the most talkative person you’ll ever meet in your whole life??
  6. I love One Direction. My whole life revolves around them. MY BABIES. When will they return from war!!!! Also, Taylor Swift. And a lot of others. BUT YOU GET MY POINT.
  7. Most of what I write revolves around a song. And, it’s a thing I’ve noticed I’ve been doing. I listen to a lot of artists, and try out different genres. By far, it’s been helpful, because I get a different take on the same feeling I feel, and it’s sort of calming?? Idk if I’m making sense at this point, but yes. I like to know what it’s like to listen to people and their take on it.

Bonus, additional fact because why not!!

7.5. (?) I love pasta. *stomach rumbles ‘feed me hooman’.*

PHEW. This was a lot harder than I expected, but yes. These are 7 facts about me! I don’t know who else to nominate, but here is my list of people:









I could only think of 8, I’m so sorry!

Anywho, thank you for the nomination, https://unostentatioustruth.wordpress.com! ❤

New Year.





I woke up hopeful today.



I was scared this was going to be short-lived, but it didn’t feel like it.



I didn’t feel like I was punched in the heart, like every year. Because, for two years, every 1st of January, I’m never looking forward to the change, and I don’t wish for anything at all. And, that hurt.



I wished on the first firework of the morning, and it felt incredible.



I took a big leap in 2016, beginning the end of my school life. In 2017, I take a bigger one –

college. I’m terrified, but I’m hopeful.



Change is a part of us – the only thing constant, my textbook says. I know it’s true.



I kissed 2016 goodbye. I’m not mad for how terrible it was. I’m grateful I’ve learnt lessons and made new scars. “Every lesson forms a new scar..”, Taylor Swift sang, once.



I looked out at the city, content.



I think back to the people who’ve been there, I feel grateful. I think back to people who left – I don’t feel sad anymore, I feel even more grateful.



I don’t know where I’m going, but I’ll find my way.


(Happy New Year, guys! May your life be filled with happiness, more happiness, lots of smiles and cookies, from here onward!)

Why You Should Really Stop Asking Us To Make You A Sandwich.

There was a post I saw, on Facebook, that went:

“Why do girls get all bent out of shape when a man asks for a sandwich. When my girlfriend says, “Fix my car” or “Fix my computer”, I don’t claim it’s sexist. I fix her shit cuz I’m good at it. You’re good at making sandwiches. Next time a girl asks me to fix her shit, I’m just going to get offended and go, “Fix your own shit”. Let’s see who gets hurt more, me without a sandwich or you without a car.”

Tbh, I SNORTED OUT LAUGHING after I read…whatever this is.

Let me put some things into perspective for you:

  • If I, a woman, am a mechanic myself, I could “fix my own shit”. Maybe most of us do. But for some of us who can’t, when we ask you, it’s obviously because we cannot fix it and YOU, a man, happen to be a mechanic, thereby asking you to help us out.
  • The reason we claim, “Shut up and make me a sandwich” as sexist is obvious. As women, we ARE NOT ENTITLED TO MAKE YOU A FUCKING SANDWICH when you say stuff like, “You’re a woman. You can’t be doing this. Go make a sandwich.” like you’re telling me my place is in the kitchen.

It’s so funny, how you can blow this out of proportion without any sort of context, like. Wow. Your fragile egos baffle me.

The most profound lines of that mess of a post:

“You’re good at making sandwiches.”

Listen, dude. EVERYONE knows how to make themselves a sandwich. It’s literally just bread with cheese and veggies. HOW HARD IS IT FOR YOU TO DO THAT.

“Let’s see who gets hurt more, me without a sandwich or you without a car.”

I’d walk or take the public transport services available, thank you very much, and you can be hurt and starve, because you clearly don’t know how to make yourself a sandwich.

This feeling feels like I’m standing on the edge of a cliff – but I’m going home, now.

I am tired. So damn tired. Of everything. Of everyone. I’ve been dealing with this bad habit of not crying when things get to me, because I feel like if I do, I’m giving the other person the signal that, ‘yes. what you said/did just hurt me’. I know, it’s okay to cry sometimes, to feel awful, to feel terrible, because that helps us know and understand that we are human beings, and not robots, after all.

But, sometimes? Yeah, I don’t feel like crying. I don’t feel like curling up with my back against the wall, and letting it out. Not just for the reason mentioned above. But also because I AM tired. Tired of feeling this way. Tired of imagining scenarios that won’t happen — now, or in a million years. I’m so tired to actually let my tears out. I am so tired to be sad.

Instead, I feel like the weight of the whole world is on my chest. My heart feels very, very heavy and it’s also getting incredibly hard to breathe. It’s probably just that feeling people have when you’re over someone — the post episodes of ‘wow why did I actually’ and ‘wow we could’ve been amazing!’

It’s like, I feel like I am past all of this — like none of those feelings matter to me anymore, because good gods, that emotional baggage was too much for me to handle.

But, sometimes, when I sit alone, it really does get to me. Like, I start questioning my whole decision of letting go — which in turn, leads me to feel even more like crap, because hey, hey, hey! Guess what! He doesn’t like you anymore! He probably never did, and he definitely never will.

And that hurts. Like, genuinely, sometimes just thinking about it hurts you so much. Because in your head it’s all, “Was moving on the right option? Are you sure you let go? Was letting go the correct thing to do?”

But, hey, here’s the probable bright-side to this: I could meet someone better.

But here’s also the better outcome of this whole thing: I know letting go was the correct thing to do, I know moving on was the right option, and I know that I have let go.

And here’s the thing:

I am not the reflection of those who cannot love me.

This feeling will pass. I will be happy again, and I will smile when someone takes his name — not so that I can fake being happy all this doesn’t matter anymore, but genuinely knowing anything he does will have no effect on me, and I will literally not care. I will give that smile, and that day isn’t too far. 🙂

Untitled poem #1.

“We keep this love in a photograph. We made these memories for ourselves..” – Photograph, Ed Sheeran.

And it’s funny, how one photograph opens the gates to

a million memories, that I kept so deep within me.

I remember, when the days used to spin slow, we would sit

for hours, talk endlessly, like lovers.

 I can’t seem to picture now, what we’d be like,

because a part of me still holds on to what we were, maybe two years ago.

All that I have left of us are just bits and pieces of the happy we created, a run-down home,

songs that remind me of the days we danced in the rain.

And I’m trying so hard not to break down, in front of everybody

because the odds of things going back to the way were is so unfathomable.

I’m okay, but sometimes it gets a little too much to know we could’ve been

what we always thought we’d be.

So, if this is the last time I’m seeing you,

can you hold me in your arms, so I can have something to use?

(so I can remember what it’s like to feel at home?)

Something to create the something so profound, and beautiful

that I once lost, because, what if I never love another the same


“But if by chance you’re here alone, can I have a moment before I go? ‘Cause I’ve been by myself all night long, hoping you’re someone I used to know.” – When We Were Young, Adele.

Of fresh air and clean lungs.

I am more than what you think of me-

i may lose my balance once in a while, i

may lose the interest to fall in love all over

again, because i will admit, i am afraid,

afraid of being hurt, afraid of being walked

over, afraid of being left in the shadows, in the cold.

but, i will learn to light a fire and keep myself warm,

i will learn to fall in love again, maybe not with someone,

but with myself first, because i’ve learnt that you cannot love someone if you don’t love

yourself first.

i will not subject

myself to your unwarranted comments about me, i will not

pressurise myself into forced closure of the worst kind of

existential crises, that make me wonder why i even thought

you were, in any way, better than I am,

because i am the million

stars that guide me home to my heart,

i am the moon that still shines bright,

i am the sun that burns ferociously with a grace only few will


because i refuse to breathe in the pungent air

that reeks of things you and everybody else think of me,

and i refuse to let that corrode

my lungs, and taint the laughter that it

squeezes out with your ever-present negativity;

because I am more than what you think of me.