Disheveled Story Of Everything

Internal Battle

I would stand over my dead body

knowing that i couldn’t hurt to feel alive


Its the one thing I haven’t tried

Maybe it’ll be the only thing to make me see

that life was worth living

-the fight


Daily Prompt: Youth

via Daily Prompt: Youth

This is more than just a daily prompt.

Let’s touch on the recent release of the monstrous ‘Pokemon Go’. For those who are unsure about the game-play: basically, it is a game application downloaded into your smartphones. The game uses virtual reality (VR) technology to stimulate the iconic Pokemon game. Players ‘collect them all’ (referring to the characters in the game) by catching the Pokemons. They are then allowed to Battle other players to claim leadership of Pokemon Gyms and so on.

The wave first hit Australia. I admit that I anticipated its release due to the intriguing game-play. I used to play Pokemon when I was a kid and this game brings back memories to me. I was in Japan when I saw a friend posted about the game. Sure, he hacked it because he is staying in Asia, so did I. I couldn’t play it in Japan though because, obviously it wasn’t officially released yet. A week after that, news on FaceBook flooded with everything Pokemon Go.

I became disturbed by the fact that this game has easily won over the world’s attention within a night. The dreaded day came when the game got released in Singapore, where I live. Everyone around me began getting involved in it. Sometimes too involved. We don’t notice each other anymore. Our priorities change. Our relationships are jeopardised. It dawned upon me that humans have made machines that overpower themselves. Youths are not supposed to be isolated in their own little bubble of technology.

This is what the world has become. How can I trust my future into the hands of youths whose aspirations are to become Pokemon Go trainers. Who forego education, jobs and families to ‘catch them all’. It is a dire situation when a simple mobile application can so manipulatively takes over someone’s life, control it, use it and abuse it.


Daily Prompt: Maybe

Maybe I should’ve slept earlier the night before, because today was a bad day. The morning was fine, although I had to work on a good Saturday. There goes weekend, but what the hell, a girl has to survive. That was not even the saddest part of the weekend. I realised I have been dropping hair everywhere, literally. Maybe I have been stuffing my face with too much junk food in the office. Whatever the cause, I might go bald very soon and that is worrying.



via Daily Prompt: Maybe

Free Thoughts



Since when does the dark sky clouds over the new morning that we can’t live to see a new day?


That we circle a lethal cycle of pain and suffering, thinking this is how it should be?


Since when do races account to how much we’re worth? That we put a price on ourselves as how the world would buy.


That we label ourselves as society named us. Dont we all share the same blood somehow? Don’t we sing the same heart beat?


Since when do religions wage war against humanity? Whatever happened to love and peacekeeping.


Who told us love is free?  Love is binding in nature. Our souls, to our minds. We face each other, vulnerable. In the palm of our hands, we hold our entire world to give someone complete control.


Since when do life throws us lemons and we could make lemonade? Instead, we indulge in the ordinary, or less. Instead, we breed the sourness of life and devour it.


Who demands us to be perfect?  For the first cry of a newborn, is an imperfection. Who gave the standards of perfection? That whoever is not, is a substandard of society.


Since when does a 20 year-old gave all of the above a thought if the world isn’t a better place?

I’ll Never Forget What It Was Like To Love You — Thought Catalog

Skye JonesI remember rolling over in bed and opening my eyes to the view of your starry face. With a million constellations all over your body. I remember waking up and wanting to kiss you but I didn’t want to destroy the way your body seemed to be perfectly sculpted to the bed. The way…

via I’ll Never Forget What It Was Like To Love You — Thought Catalog

Did I Make It Too Easy For You To Leave? — Thought Catalog

kellywoodThere was never an us. It was always this uncategorized thing where we were just hanging out, laughing, sharing our dreams and childhood stories, kissing. There was no label. I don’t even know if it’s apt to call it a relationship. It was just a thing that you and I did. It’s funny how my…

via Did I Make It Too Easy For You To Leave? — Thought Catalog

He is Tired, You are Tired

Bravo! you did it again. You’ve managed to drive another good guy crazy. You’ve successfully made him fall in love with you to not answering any of your calls late at night after a fight.

Congratulations! You’ve struck his nerve to the bones that he swore to your face when he apologised he wouldn’t do it again after the last time. You’ve given him another chance to blow up at you because of the things you’ve said, or not said.

As if the last straw wasn’t enough to make you realise how bad everything is going on for you. Time and time again, you’ve placed yourself in a position for people to hurl at you. You placed this upon yourself. Maybe all the problems that have been piling up till now were caused by you.

Think about it. If you hadn’t asked about the sleepover, he wouldn’t have lied. If you weren’t so needy by nature, you wouldn’t have needed to ask. Who is it to blame now then? Stop pushing the blame to the ‘broken family’ situation or the ‘overwhelming stress at work and school’ dilemma. They’re getting old. Really. Stop.

He’s tired of you. He’s tired of the shit you’ve put him through. He will not answer anymore of your calls because he has finally realised that he doesn’t have to put up with you. He has finally woken up from his little fantasy to finally understand he wasn’t the problem. You are. After a couple of months and you’ve managed to slap him out of your life? Cheers to you.

There he is trying to make ends meet, doing everything he could to salvage what you had. There you are making a huge mess of the whole thing, AGAIN. He gave you chances after you chances and you blew it over and over. Let me ask you…

What’s wrong with you? Why do you act this way? Who made you like this?

Glimpse of magic


Yes, I remember you.

I Promise You This — Thought Catalog

EleazarI guess I expect a lot in relationships, and when those expectations aren’t met, I feel disappointed and betrayed. It’s unfair, especially when the person I’m dating isn’t aware of this mental checklist I’ve concocted over years of being treated poorly, or just dating the wrong but very lovely, guy. I know what I want…

via I Promise You This — Thought Catalog

I am a broken glass


You know, girls are like porcelains. Like the doll that they are, polished, beautiful and fragile. I’m more of a broken glass. I’m in pieces, sharp and well, broken. Broken glasses hurt people that’s why nobody goes near them. If they do, it’ll be too shattered to fix that they sweep the broken pieces up to discard.

I’m a discarded broken piece of glass. I’m transparent but inside I’m vulnerable. I’m hard on the outside but not any more because a glass can only hold so much pressure. You could say that I topple myself over and break my own heart from the choices I’ve made. But I knew when I saw my own pieces on the floor every night that I can never piece them back whole again.

While I’m distracted trying not to shatter, you saw me broken. Unlike porcelains, I’m not pretty. I am chipped, not chiselled. I’m plain, not decorated. I take no shape from the world, I am my own solid being. I live for a purpose and not just aesthetics. I thought I would scare you away or make you take a broom to sweep me off.

I am dangerous, yet you took the sharp broken pieces with your bare hands. While I try not to let another piece fall, you’re trying to fix the ones on the floor. Sometimes you hold everything together, even the unbroken ones. On bad days, the broken glasses you’ve somehow fixed, shatters again from the inside out, like a bullet shot through. You’ll sigh, nonetheless, pick them up again and glue them back to me.

Until the day when I can hold myself up again, thank you for holding me up. You could’ve chosen a beautifully crafted porcelain but you didn’t. For that, I love you with all the broken pieces that I have and all that’s left of me.