The future is now.

"It is my feeling that Time ripens all things; with Time all things are revealed;
Time is the father of truth."  
 

- Francois Rabelais

 There should always be a time for self-reflection - it helps complete the human in you, allowing you to sit back for a moment, taking in everything that has happened. It gives you a chance for improvements - and there is always room for improvements. 

Contrary to what others may think, I don't self-reflect often. Since I'm better in expressing myself through words, it's rare for anyone to see me utter something profound and intense in real life. In real life, I'm the girl who sits about with a book - the girl who gets a little moody, but is still a nice person nonetheless. I don't bother correcting anyone who thinks I'm kind and awfully friendly nowadays - they automatically know how to distance themselves whenever they sense  something's not right. Smart people, them.

 Nevertheless, I must admit that 2012 has been one of the best years for me - and there can only be one reason for that.

New Zealand.

As cheesy as this could possibly sound, I still remember the first few days of me in Dunedin. It had been hilarious, really - being lost in a little town, stuttering in front of the bus driver, wandering around like the helpless student I was. Then there were some differences in the lifestyle, and of course the weather wasn't particularly pleasant.

And yet I loved every single moment of it.

Okay, being lost in some fucking nowhere and chasing the bus down the hill weren't fun when it had happened - but they were still my experiences, and I wouldn't trade them for anything else in the world. After wanting to be in New Zealand all these years, I finally had my wish.

I had solemnly swore to myself that I would never abandon myself in a new land like this - that I would appreciate everything my parents had done to get me here, that I would try my best and adhere to my principles.

So I did.

There wasn't much to it, really. I was just so happy to be there. I loved all the subjects I did. I enjoyed the company of my classmates, as different as some of them were from me. I particularly appreciated the fact that no one scorned me or my dreams. They respected me for who I was. I reveled in the friendships I forged, took advantage of every opportunity I had. I wanted to work hard - I wanted to show the world what I could do - I wanted to show the people in Malaysia what I could bloody achieve.

Perhaps it was my own determination that pulled me through. I obtained scores that I never had in my entire life. It was surprising, but I was pleased. I convinced myself that no one could bring me down, that I was my very own master. I had enough time for everything. I never felt too pressured - well, at least, never pressured to the point where I couldn't handle it. It was there where I allowed some of my personality to shine through - the annoying girl who slept in class yet always reviewed the chapters in a day, the girl who swore like a motherfucker yet always started her assignments as soon as they were given out.

I enjoyed being a paradox.

I enjoyed being the irony of everything.

The world would continue to run its own course even if you died for it.

That was the main reason that convinced me to go on years ago. 

I never thought about death anymore - and nowadays, I try my best to talk anyone out of it. Sometimes I wondered - was I the girl who had sobbed too much until her heart could never truly be happy again, or was I the person who wanted to help others in order to atone for all the things I had done? I didn't have a reasoning, and up until now I still don't - but I knew that I couldn't back away any longer. I had to keep on moving forward, no matter the cost. Dreams, determination - they were all in my hands. What I did and what I achieved would all depend on me - myself - the very being within me.

There's been some decisions to make recently. Many would know that I've never had too good a relationship with my family - but it was just not too long ago that I realized once again how fragile things were. It didn't take too much for a cable to snap or a piece of glass to shatter. One had to be so very careful until it almost seemed ridiculous to do so. I had always been one to keep promises, and yet this time I found myself looking back at some I couldn't keep anymore.

When I was fourteen, all I wanted to do was to ruin myself. I wanted to jump into the dark abyss and lay in nothingness forever, seeing nothing but the stars.

But then as I grew, I realized that there were no fucking stars in there.

The darkness was very fucking real, and the darkness would never come close to being as beautiful as light. 

When I was sixteen, I made a promise to someone important.

Tomorrow, I will have to break it.

I knew what was at stake. I knew our relationship would definitely be put to the test. It was something dangerous, something that I would regret losing. I had always rooted for him, I had always supported his ideals - and yet at the time when he needed me most, I would have to abandon him. And it would be all because I wanted to save my own skin - all because I wanted to do what was right. It was simple - I refused to ruin myself for anyone's sake. 

It would also not hurt to add that there were many other parallel issues, and this was merely one of them.

 

"I'm a nice person. I don't like hurting others."

"Are you kidding me?" she asked incredulously. "After all the people you've hurt in the past?"

"...Are you saying I'm not nice?"

She sighed. "I'm just saying that sometimes hurting people is inevitable."

...

 Today was one of those days where I just wanted to throw my hands up and scream. Instead, I took a drive on my own - my dad had very nicely given me the keys, allowing me to have all the fun I wanted. And that was precisely what I did. I leaned back against the seat and drove comfortably along the highways, blasting music out of the speakers and humming tunelessly along. It had felt wonderful, and I found myself liking it more and more. It gave me the space I wanted - and it felt vastly different from being on the laptop, or writing stories in the comfort of a cafe. Driving allowed me to be out and about, enjoying the freedom and relaxing at the same time.

...Well, I had nearly crashed into godknowswhat, but that wasn't important. I have a P, bitches, I'm qualified!

...

Well.

Sometimes I liked being myself, and sometimes I hated it. That was 2012, and that would also be 2013. 

Perhaps that wasn't so bad. It only proved how human I was.  

 
"Don't wait for luck.
Dedicate yourself and you can find yourself."

- The Script, "Hall of Fame"

Skip and step

I've always prided myself as someone who knows what to go after in life. I'm unsteady, inexperienced, hasty and obnoxiously proud. But what's the point in chasing after a dream if you don't even take chances? What's the point if you sit there forever and let opportunities pass you by? Am I being twisted in wanting some form of recognition, no matter how small it may be? Would it be ridiculous if I said I craved it not for my own pride, but for my own future?

Facts are facts, details are details. The thing about dreams is that you have to go about them systematically - step-by-step - starting out slow and working to the top - not to mention that luck is needed at times to pull yourself up along the way. Another annoying fact would be that not all dreams stay the same forever. They morph around sometimes according to your wants and needs - to the point of you not recognizing what you originally wanted when you first started out. 

But that's alright - because really, there's no one else to blame in the end but yourself. 

I've known, all along, that it's impossible to please everyone in the world.  Half the time people are going to find you ridiculous, hopelessly naive, or, as my mum pleasantly put it, "unbecoming". I am unbecoming. I am unbecoming because I choose to do something instead of allowing fate to control my life. I am a hopeless glory-seeker because I'm keen in making a difference for myself, instead of waiting for chances to just drop from the sky. 

Anger is present. Anger is natural. But behind that lies a desperate yearning for the ones physically closest to you to believe in you so much that it hurts. You don't need their pride, you don't need their praises. All you want is for them to believe that you are working hard and that you can make them proud someday. You no longer throw irrational tantrums, you no longer cry in front of them. You are hardened, a warrior who is detached from needing their emotional support in order to go on. 

You, who have learned so much from the you in the past. 

You don't need to be perceived as their hero, since you'd be better off fighting for yourself. 

...

That's right. I'm unbecoming, and I'm proud of it. 

Maybe, just maybe.

Just keep running. Never look back.

...

I wouldn't call myself being a coward. Just someone who probably needs to take a little break - someone who needs to breathe - someone who needs to take a step back, look at all the beautiful things in life, and once again learn to appreciate life and all the simple happiness it brings.  

Take a look again.

What exactly is precious to you?

If it's something irreplaceable, never let it go - but if you can live without it, then you probably don't need it anyway.

Many things used to be a game to you, Anne. 

I would say that I have the capability to be twisted. It's just a part of me that exists. There is the potential, and I know it. Sometimes I think being a puppeteer would be fun - but sometimes I crave for nothing more but simplicity, where life lays before me in its barest, truest form. 

But what exactly is the truth? 

Well, don't I know it. The truth is that my words have hurt others, and my actions have scarred them deeply. I know this much. But I also know that despite the nastiness in me, many of these incidents were unplanned for - meaning that they were events that happened just because they did, not because I schemed them from the very beginning. Deep inside there is a part of me that wants to hurl every single glass ornament in the case at an endless darkness while screaming, "I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I never meant it to be this way! I'm sorry!"

And, more importantly...

"Forgive me. Please, for all that's worth, forgive me for the things I have done. For the things I have said. I cannot rewind time - I cannot erase the wounds I have inflicted on you - but please, forgive me."

But the years have passed, and truth be told, it has been such a long time ago. I have hurt many - far too many. Sometimes my mind goes a little hazy and I blink at the old memories that resurface. It feels funny when they do, something like watching a broken recorder, but I know that they were once significant. Far too significant.

Apparently people deal with stress and the conflict in their minds in different ways. A person I had hurt three years ago had forgotten what I had done to him - the only thing he remembered was that he was upset - or "really bummed", as he nicely put it. I was surprised, delighted, and disappointed at the same time. While it was a good thing that he didn't remember, it also meant that he had forgotten about the days I had spent with him too. I was having conflicting emotions, and that itself was strange. 

"I don't mean to dig up buried skeletons," he said. "But...could you tell me why?" 

I froze, and he pressed on.

"What exactly happened between us?" 

I remembered, of course. I remembered the things I did to people. However, even though I remembered - it didn't mean that I liked thinking about it. It was a particularly painful process telling him, and I kept my words as vague as possible. He could interpret them in any way he liked. 

In the end, I was still happier that he had forgotten.

I wonder whether there's a happy ending for everyone out there. Fairy tales seem to put it that way, and all of us try to be as generous to our friends as possible - because honestly, what else can you do to comfort someone you know when they're in pain? You're not in their shoes - and no matter how similar an experience you've had, it is their experience, and you both know it.

Sometimes things are just stupid, and everything turns out stupid. 

But it's not so bad. Sometimes isolating yourself is better. It feels good, even - despite having an infection that's screwing up my brains a little - that I'm doing this the proper way. Isolation. Isolationism. It's not that hard. It doesn't hurt. It feels calm. It feels...wonderful.

It's like you have the time in the world to do what you want, even if your parents bug you all the time to adopt a healthier lifestyle and to stop looking at the computer so much but oh hell, that would never change. It's like not being confined to an old online society of stereotypes, where you have to check up on others and fulfill some form of responsibility to them.

It just feels different.

And it gives you the space to interact with new people.

I particularly like interacting with those on fanfiction - especially if they're mostly from different countries. They see thinks differently, view the world in another manner. It's almost fascinating. You get to know them, and they get to know you. Friendship knows no boundaries - I think I learned that a long time ago. The whole long-distance thing will never be an issue. They're just so interesting. Sometimes I receive compliments that make me leap for joy, sometimes I receive negative criticism that makes me sink a little lower. You get to find out that not all Americans are obnoxious, not all Brits are stodgy, and that Canadians are interesting beings. You get to know how life works for them, and how it is like viewing things in their eyes.

Sometimes you end up talking to them so much, and you realize how thankful you are for technology.

Especially for Google Translate, even if it's an ass half of the time.

"I think," my Russian friend, a young friendly female - whose name I shall not mention - said, "You will be better off loving another."

Uh-huh.

"I want you to meet my friend. His name is x, he's nineteen, and he's a childhood friend of mine. He's nice and sweet. And he's cute. Don't be shy."

I don't care if fairy tales don't come true. Sometimes all you need is a fresh perspective in life. Perhaps that's where it comes in. The whole process repeats. Names. Age. New things to socialize about. Language barriers. Photographs. Laughter.

Perhaps that's what it's all about.

Goodbye, goodbye.

Local time at Christchurch: 14:46pm

Local time at Singapore: 9:46am

Ground speed: 896km/h

Outside air temperature: -52 Celcius

Time to Singapore: 7:46

…

The plane’s just about flying above Newcastle, Australia as I sit here and type this. The scenery outside has changed a bit over the past few hours – from rolling green meadows and snow-capped mountains to rippling blue waves and dry, barren landscapes. This part of Australia looks dusty and remote. I much prefer New Zealand’s verdant plains.

The Book Thief by Markus Zusak is in my seat pocket – I’m up to page three hundred – and really, I should tell Eden on how much I’ve been enjoying it so far. For the past few hours I’ve sat quietly in my seat – reading – with a plastic cup of apple juice by my side. I haven’t even touched the flight entertainment system – which is pretty surprising. I normally latch onto flight entertainment systems like my life depends on it.

My black duffel coat is around me, while another grey jacket’s spread out nearby. It’s convenient, I must admit, to have unoccupied seats next to you. No awkward conversations, no confused hand gestures needed. It’s just me in this little row – me, this laptop screen, the music in my ears, and the tiny window with bits of frost plastered onto it. 

This is probably going to be the quietest flight I’ve ever had.

Just yesterday I had taken a bus up to Christchurch. It had almost taken six hours, and by the time I stumbled out, rain was lashing down in torrents – I could barely see anything else in front of me other than the road, some shops, and the earthquake-devastated ruins nearby. I didn’t particularly appreciate the way at how the storm continued on until the wee hours of the morning – where the howling wind and tapping tree branches interrupted my sleep, grating on my nerves.

Bloody hell. 

Even worst, I had successfully short-circuited the entire house that I had stayed for the night.

It was quite a feat, I assure you. I just hope my parents never hear about this. Basically, I was trying to blow my hair in the shower – the plug must’ve been wet, which I stupidly hadn’t noticed. Within two seconds of me flicking the hairdryer on, the entire house abruptly descended into darkness while I stupidly stood in the bathroom, thinking about just how much fucked up things were, and whythehelldothesethingshappentoyou Anne, ohgodwhy?

 

…

Well, that was last night. Right now I’m still on the plane, typing this out on MS Word just so that I can pass some time. Come to think of it, my iPod’s battery is declining at an alarming rate. Please, please – hold out until I reach Singapore. I don’t think I could survive listening to nothing but the aircraft’s roaring engines and wailing babies. 

Patience, my dear, I tell myself. Patience.

 

A fucking virtue it is, a fucking virtue it always will be. 

…

Reality hits me again – I’m returning to Malaysia. For the summer holidays, or so I heard.

The past few weeks have been quite a whirlpool of excitement. First off, I had been granted three awards for scoring the top marks in Geography, International Studies, and Computing for the first semester – then I was informed that my application to the prestigious St. Margaret’s College had been accepted – and finally, just yesterday, I received my final exam scores.

It was a 10.0 GPA. 

The smile stuck on my face throughout the entire day. Even though I remained quiet and composed like I usually was, my heart was happy and contented – two sorts of emotions which I rarely felt. 

“Your parents must be so thrilled.”

“Your parents would be so proud of you!”

“You don’t look that excited – why? Your parents must be overjoyed!”

Why, you ask? It’s quite simple, really.

I was brought up not to be arrogant of my achievements, no matter how brilliant they may seem to be. I was brought up to accept the fact that no matter how hard I try, there will always be others out there who are better than me. 

It’s not too far from the truth, really.

Others find it sad at how I view things. You undervalue yourself, they say. You don’t realize your potential. 

But I do.

There’s a difference between undermining myself and being modest – that’s what I want them to know. I do understand my potentials – which is why I’m taking the hard path from now onwards, instead of the easy way out. 

Doesn’t make sense, does it? Probably not. In other words, I’ll make it simple – I could’ve settled for some easier ways out, but I’m not doing that. A double degree, with a major and a minor to boot – you are fucking crazy, Anne, you are fucking crazy.

Well, yes, I’d drink to that.  

I understand the fact that I can do so much more – and with that, I will push myself to the limit.

Truth be told? This year hasn’t been that difficult. On the contrary, it has been quite relaxing. Of course, I won’t say that everything has gone by easily – in fact, it hasn’t – but it’s still a far cry more relaxing than what I used to have. 

My parents understand my potentials too, as weird as that would sound to me now. A few years ago I was the one who was always kicked in the dirt, yelled at for being useless and nothing compared to the others around me. I knew, even back then, that that was their way of showing their love – no matter how twisted and unloving it appeared to be. They wanted me to be the best – they wanted me to learn how to fight and struggle on my own. So fight and struggle I did, watching the days pass by in a mixture of tears and emotional pain. Back then, I never knew how much they looked up to me – hell, I thought I was the useless black sheep in the family, until the unexpected words tumbled out when I mentioned about Otago University’s Foundation in Arts program to them. 

“I’m just worried that it would be too easy for you.” 

Dad had appeared nonchalant in saying it – the two of us were eating at a hawker centre, and I had nearly choked on my mouthful of noodles. That was when I realized that my parents never undermined me – they just had the worst ways of showing their love. 

I began realizing more and more as the days went by. When I had scored 10As and cried myself to sleep, they assured me of how proud they were of my achievements. When I had scored a 9.9 GPA in the first term exams, I had brooded about it all day until they told me not to. I had silently vowed to get a 10.0 in the final year exams, which, well, I did. I realized that they were proud of the fact that I was a Grade Eight in both piano practical and theory, of the fact that I was a black-belter, of the fact that I could now bake an apple cake and make chocolate fondue (if I tried), of the fact that I could do basic sword-fighting, of the fact that I was a writer – of everything.

 

Gone were the days of where they tried to stomp the artistic side out of me. 

Gone were the days of where they continuously put me down with harsh words and unkind gestures. 

I had earned their respect in the field that I was involving myself in, and I was going to keep it no matter what. I had proven it to them by taking twelve subjects in SPM, scoring an A in English Literature (alright, that could have been better) and Mandarin – a subject which many had given up on. My determination was pretty fucking intense, and they knew it. 

But even so, I wasn’t that impressive of an individual either. I had a wide range of hobbies, I had a sharp mind – but that was around it. I didn’t have any impressive awards, I hadn’t won any international competitions. I was just an individual on the face of earth who had a lot of opinions but never cared to act on too much of them. 

Not impressive indeed.

But I had some worthwhile things about myself – that much I knew. For one, I was fucking ambitious. It got to the point where things seemed unrealistic – and ambition is a brilliant motivator. Someone should make an epic quote out of that – it’s only the truth. 

Strength. Courage. Maturity.

Kah Leong told me I should have a better quote than that, but I really can’t be bothered to make up anything fancy. Fanciness is me, but at the same time, I prefer things to be simplistic. 

You fucking paradox, Anne – but where’s the fun in life when things are determined in black and white? You determine your own shit. You determine what kind of life you want. Remember, obstacles are shit, but they’re shit you have to face. Sometimes you’ll misunderstand things. Sometimes you’ll be hated by people. Sometimes they’ll hate you so much that they wish you were dead – but that’s inevitable. You don’t live to fucking please – and as crude as that sounds, it’s the best motto you probably can have whenever something undesirable happens. 

While applying for the college I wanted to stay in next year, they had asked a whole bunch of weird questions. They were short questions that required a lot of in-depth thinking – standard questions like the whys and the whats and the hows. I had sat there pondering for many hours, wondering what would be enough to impress the college master up there. 

What would you want to see? I had asked myself silently. What would it be?

 

What would stand out more than others?

And then that was when it hit me – honesty.

 

Genuine honesty.

Ambition.

Determination.

Courage.

Strength.

Maturity.

…

So I went for it. 

…

Those who know me well enough will know that I’m not thrilled at the prospect of returning to Malaysia. In simple terms, I’ve had too many bad memories back there – especially back at the old house, which I dread. I dread returning to the same room where I spent sleepless night, crying for wishes that would never come true. I dread returning to the buried memories, where I had spent so much time dispensing my hate upon.

I refuse to even call it home anymore. I won’t call Malaysia home. No, I won’t.

Technically, the lazy voice drawls within me, New Zealand isn’t your home either. How can it be? You haven’t been living there your entire life. How many people do you know there? Where will you be? You love the unfamiliarity of Kiwi ways, the way at how you’re respected and accepted there for being who you are – but at the same time, someplace within you will always crave for some form of Malaysian normality. The food, yes? The way at how you can slurp your soup without caring who sees. The way at how you can skip and hop down the road without giving a fuck.

But, I argue back, people respect my opinions in New Zealand – which doesn’t always (scratch that – it rarely happens) happen in Malaysia. People see me for who I am. They admire my opinions, my ideas, the things I do. I can tell people I support gay rights without being afraid of what they think about me. I can tell them I love arts and writing without being looked down and sneered upon. I can sip English tea in the afternoon while typing out on a laptop in peace and quiet without being interrupted. I have my freedom of speech, my freedom of ways – things which are immensely important to me. Racism does exist here – but I would rather be ostracized here in New Zealand than in Malaysia. It’s one of the reasons why I refer myself as a ‘Malaysian Chinese’, and not just a ‘Malaysian’. It’s one of the reasons why I’m offended when people think I’m a ‘Malay’, and not a ‘Malaysian Chinese.’

It doesn’t matter much, does it? Home will be where I’m the happiest at.

If I’ll be hovering around some form of uncertainty for the years to come, then let it be. The ones who don’t understand certainly don’t have to try to – I never asked them to stumble around the fucked up areas of my mind, anyway. 

…

Local time at Christchurch: 16:11pm

Local time at Singapore: 11:11am

Ground speed: 850km/h

Outside air temperature: -50 Celcius

Time to Singapore: 5:42

…

Five (six?) more hours to get to Singapore.

Another flight to get back to Malaysia.

Tomorrow, a new routine begins.

Auckland 2012 - WIth a brother, a friend, drinks and sunlight.

The only annoying thing that happens while sleeping with your elder brother on the same bed is that he drags away all the blankets when he sleeps. When that happens, drag them back like a boss - because, goddamnit, it gets bloody fucking cold at three am in the morning.

Even if it happens to be Auckland and not in Dunedin, per se. 

And what about when he complains that you're the one messing up his flat? The fact that he happens to be having this mini OCD over the overall cleanliness does nothing more than irk you. And he counts the number of sand (sand isn't even quantifiable, damn it) that trickles down your shoes after going to the beach, claiming that he had just vacuumed the floor in the morning.

But it's not so bad. He takes you to the best Chinese restaurants in town, knowing that you've been missing Chinese food - despite not complaining in an outright manner. He's your best eating buddy, and it's always worth going to steamboat buffets (best meal ever) because you two could just continue chomping throughout the night until the restaurants close. 

Even better still, he thinks in the same badass way as you do - sometimes. The so-called ex-prefect from CHS is so not acting like one now, sneaking you into bars for drinks because he knows you're dying for something exciting. And the way he laughs at you because the lady at the cinema counter refuses to allow you in due to the fact that you don't look bloody sixteen when you're going to be fucking legal in four months.

Nothing could be better. 

And what about meeting the friend from high school? You know, the one you made a promise to because you knew you could keep it.

Sitting in the park, gossiping, endless talking - all with chips, fizzy drinks, and sugary candy. The whole scene is so female that it seems unbelievable - but you know that it's just how things roll. There's the sun shining down, making you feel like a hopeless twittering idiot - prattling on for what's worth.

Then of course, there's the wonderful curry that her parents cook. Her funny siblings. The gory movies that you can't stand (heck, you could barely stand Saw), and the funny ones that made you laugh. 

But that's gone and past.

I'm back in Dunedin now.

...

Baby you light up my world like nobody else. 

...

You don't know-oh-oh, that's what makes you beautiful.

...

(It fits the sunshin-ey mood. I know it's so un-Anne like - trust me, I know - but still.)

Blue Sky.

 I didn't intend to compose a song on a Sunday afternoon.

Heck, I never knew I could even compose one. When I was younger, I played, slaved, cursed, throttled, and let off all the unwanted steam on the piano - but never did I even think about composing. 

But as I was just pressing random notes on the keyboard, the switch just came on and then it happened. The inspiration. It just came - abruptly. And of course I was surprised, because I never had any particular musical inspirations when I was younger. Ideas for a story? Sure. Thoughts for an artwork? Yeah, that too. 

But music? Never.

But I went with the flow and thus the song was made.

And it didn't have a title for a few hours.

I couldn't really decide for some time, really. But when I played the song...I felt that if there was anything I could feel from it, it was freedom. Endless freedom without any boundaries.

Art, music, language - they never have boundaries, do they?

Just like the sky. There are clouds, and the colors change from vivid hues of red and orange to the velvet purple of midnight. 

'Blue Sky' seemed appropriate, so up it went.

And to my happiness, a friend of mine who listened to it claimed that he could envision a blue sky and clouds floating across it peacefully while listening to it. Yes, I was happy - he was a close friend who appreciated music, and was also out to compose his own songs. I had a long chat with him about the technicalities of music, and then we were back to recommending good songs to each other.

I miss his singing. He was always amazing in that. 

 But the best thing of course was showing it to my mum through Skype.

I never had a great relationship with my parents during my teenage years, but after she listened to the song, she told me that she loved me. I was so taken aback that I froze in front of the computer screen for a few seconds.

I couldn't say those words back to her. I just couldn't. It wasn't like me to do something like that - I was you know, the one who was baaaad in expressing myself through real-life situations. I could write those three words in an email, yes, but saying it out...? I just couldn't. 

Damn you, Anne. 

Anyways, other than that, Monday was the usual. Pretty much the same.

With some snappiness to boot. 

But it's still New Zealand. The air still tastes like freedom, and I still like where I am at. And of course, I'm still waking up every morning without any regrets to having made such a decision.

It's not like I'm a faker. Or a liar. Or someone who just pretends.

It's just a desire to change. And it's not like I could change anything that has happened in the past.

Is that too much to ask for?

 

It's alright - it's okay.

The blue isn't everlasting - it fades fast, leaving behind nothing but dreary grey - with wispy clouds hanging in the sky and gales tearing through the roofs.

So far everything's been like...a story. A peaceful story with no endings - only beginnings that seem to go on and on - a peaceful story with warmth, smiles, and certain acts of kindness that I have really begun to appreciate.

I can't remember how long it has been since I felt this peaceful.

I recall several friends, even relatives, saying this to me - "You will regret going to New Zealand. Life will be so tough there, and you're going to suffer. Your enthusiasm is temporary. Stay here. Why won't you stay?" And as much as I'd like to politely explain a long-winded way how wrong they were (and still are), I'll just sum it up in one simple sentence because I'm so sick of trying to justify myself again and again.

'Stuff it in, live your lives without interfering in mine, and God forbid - just shut the hell up.'

I wanted to leave my home for a reason. I didn't come to Dunedin just for the heck of it. 

Reasoning, reasoning, more reasoning.

Life here is pretty much gold. From time to time I remind myself the few reasons why I have come here - not just for the education, but for the other stuff as well. 

To give myself some time.

To be a better person.

To start out anew.

To stop being so defensive. 

To forgive, learn, and forget.

To be kinder. 

To remove the old version of myself.

To sort my thoughts out. 

To...to...what? All of the above, as well as to change. Just...to change.

Perhaps that's why I've been trying so hard to prove myself. It can get incredibly exhausting, but not once do I want to pause, slow down, or give myself a long break. I have to prove myself - because I just have to. At times I have to tell myself not to overdo it, hence past events occur. Being motivated is good - but over-pushing isn't. Anything that leads to extremities is basically unhealthy, I'll say. 

Shitty mindset of mine. Anything lower than perfection, and I'd be cursing my uselessness.

It's odd. Whenever I see Asian girls squealing in that typical fashion, I would automatically fold my arms and sulkily say lowly, "Ugh, Asian girls." And then I'd want to facepalm because for goodness sake, I am an Asian girl. Don't get me wrong - I love my heritage. I'm proud to be a Chinese, and I'm proud to be able to converse with others in Chinese, even being able to speak and write. 

But what had happened to the general mindset and perception of the population? Where had the depth people once had gone to? Things are just so shallow nowadays that it hurts and aggravates. It was like they were wiped off the face of earth, and all that was left were the people who only knew how to judge and criticize.

Perhaps underneath all the major reasons, that was one of the reasons why I was struggling to get out of Malaysia as well. I wish I could tell my IS lecturer that I could remember all the meanings of the symbols on the Malaysian flag not because I was patriotic - but because I was a damned overachiever that scored well in History. 

But things will get better. They are getting better. 

There are wonderful people here. People that...I really would like to get to know better. 

Because I think that maybe, just maybe, they'd understand how I feel too. 

If this peaceful story could go on for a little longer - if it could progressively go well until the end of the year - then I'd be happy. I really would be. A fairytale it would be, because I'm a damned dreamer who doesn't appreciate reality well enough. If I could continue enduring and stop reverting to the reserved, moody, volatile high-school Anne for good - then that would be one part of my goals achieved, no questions asked. 

But who could help me achieve that? Who could help me?

There's no definitive answer. I came here to discover them on my own, didn't I? 

But for the most part, I do know that I don't want anybody to turn out into someone like me. Perhaps that's why I've been helping out others as much as I could - because I want them to experience a happy life. I want them to smile and laugh as much as possible, as well as gain lifelong friends - the ones who would go to great lengths in supporting them. I want them to gain genuine friends through honest means - not through slyness and dark thoughts of merely wanting to use them. I want them to be positive, honest, and caring.

And most importantly? I don't want them to be alone.

I still do not regret coming to New Zealand. And I never will.

I am not freaking homesick. In fact, I love it here so much (despite the fact that I freeze my ass off every morning - every house should have a toilet-seat warmer I swear) that I don't feel like returning.  

Despite the flaws in myself (which I can't really change for now), I love the place I am at. I admire the people around me, and I'm comfortable (enough for me not to hide into a corner and subdue myself with a book) around the people I hang out with, which is already a huge step for me. 

There's nothing that I regret. 

 Nothing at all.

And I will sleep tonight and hope I'll see a blue sky tomorrow - because it makes me smile, and I know that it will make others smile as well.