I know you're gone, you said you're gone, but I can still feel you're here.

My blog will be on a hiatus for a bit. But I suppose not blogging for about 2 weeks now would've given some that idea.

I need to firstly, do up another header, because obviously, I need to update the old picture.

And also, I think maybe my life is in a bit of a mess right now. Like, mentally and emotionally.

It's fixable. All of it is. But time is what I need right now.

When I say hiatus, I probably don't mean for long. I don't know. It really depends on my mood.

Whatever it is, if you're a loyal reader, I wish you well.

And if you've happened to stumble upon this, I also wish you well, because why not.

Lost and not found

I think I probably shouldn't kid myself anymore...

I think it was over the moment I told him I was unhappy.

It was finalised when he told me those words.

It was done even though I told him to take a few days to think about it.

It's over.

Makes me feel like I can't live without you

I'm currently suffering from a one-off case (hopefully) of insomnia. Which is aggravated by the fact that I should be sleeping right now because I'm not feeling very well.

But of course, my scratchy throat and just the plain fact that I can't seem to achieve REM sleep means I'm here typing away.

I just... I'm just wondering if somehow, he knew that I am missing him terribly.

The days are fine, the days pass and I often have more than one thing to do (although being unemployed is still slightly saddening), and then the night comes... (I'm starting to sound like Rachel in that episode of Friends where she's trying to stall Monica from getting ready for her wedding. I swear I can almost hear Monica going 'Okay, the days and nights are hard, I get it.')

But, moving away from that slightly amusing little side story, I really miss him. And I hate being stuck in this limbo area, not even knowing at this point if we're technically already broken up, or not. It's gonna be our 3rd month-iversary next week. That is, if we're even still together in the first place.

It's getting more and more frustrating every day. I don't want to rush him, I want him to make an informed decision (I sound like an MD) and for us to talk things out. But, on the other hand, I also want him to tell me now - is this happening, or not?

Am I just wasting my time here? Or do we have something to work on? I mentioned the fine balance before. It was as thick as a 15" board before, not totally stable, but still comfortable enough to walk across. Every day, it gets thinner, and now I honestly don't know how thin it would be. Probably unstable enough that it might actually break without warning.

And again, I miss him. I'm trying to focus on our good memories together, and there have been so many, but dear, oh dear, that just makes everything a million times worse. Because I don't know if I should follow that with thoughts of 'and this is what'll happen when we see each other again!' or 'and this is all i have left of him to cherish.' 

To be extremely honest, I'd rather him tell me now that we're officially broken up. Don't get me wrong, I will be very heart-broken, beyond repair for a while. And I will be depressed, and my blog posts would be agonisingly painful to read. And since my readership is currently as low as the GDP growth in Zimbabwe, that basically means I'm just moaning to my pitiful self. But, at least I could start to move on, think of the year ahead, with the classes I wanna take. And start truly thinking of whether I'd want to stay in the UK or move back home. For me. And only me. No one else.

But right now, I can't do that. I'm still thinking that I need to find a way to stay with him in the UK. I'm wondering if maybe he'd want to come visit Singapore for a bit next summer. I'm thinking of plans with him, and then in the next minute, my brain is like 'yeah. All this for moot.' And then I go back to being completely frustrated.

I don't know if he knows. I wish I could just tell him. But of course, as with everything I've just typed in here, I can't. I don't know if he knows I miss him, and still love him dearly, and want him to just make a fucking decision already, please! 

In a few months, I will probably go back, read this, and laugh. And wonder how I got to such a pitiful stage where my future (near, or otherwise) seems to be controlled by a man, whose name I'd never even heard of just slightly more than 3 months ago.

Life is really just a bucket of amusement sometimes.

Oh yes, this is just a side note for my close dear friends who might potentially be worried when they see this and think 'dear Lord, I have to save her!' I'm fine. I honestly, truly am. I get dramatic and tend to over-exaggerate when I write things here largely because I can. But honestly, I still have so much to be grateful for and I know that. So please, don't pick up the phone and call a suicide hotline and warn them about a potential victim. Just read, remember how expressive I tend to get, and tone it down in your head about 10-20 times. That's probably what I truly feel most of the time anyway. And I do love you lot because I know that you only worry because you care, but if I hear another 'You need to chill!', I will personally rub ice-cubes down your spine and scream 'Is this enough?!' (But I will do it in the most loving way possible because again, I know it's only because you care.)
Okay the last part sounded slightly creepy.

And you coming back to me is against all odds.

I think this is one of the first few times in my entire life where I can't seem to picture my future. It's just a mess of blurriness. I don't know where I'm going to end up, where I want to end up.

I love Singapore, I do. It's my home. It's where I grew up, it's where my family is. It's where everything is comfortable and familiar. It's where I speak Singlish, where my friends are. And yet, I don't feel like I belong here much anymore. I feel too large for this little red dot (in more ways than one). I feel too constricted by certain rules and regulations.

And then there's the UK. It would be beyond scary to move there permanently. I've gotten used to certain things in that country, and yet, it would be different once my friends leave, and I'm there alone. Struggling to build a life there on my own. All alone. And yet, the possibilities are endless. I could thrive, or I could sink. It would be an adventure to call my own.

I really don't know what's gonna happen in a year. To be honest, I'm just trying to get past this phase in my life. It's still a bit hard. And as I was doing laps round the pool today, I tried to wrap my mind around the idea that, well, maybe I might end up alone.

And in all honesty, that idea didn't really scare me. I mean, I've always been a rather independent girl. I've had mild glimpses of what it would be like to be in a relationship. Very mild. Like... tip of the iceberg sort of glimpses. And well, maybe that's just it.

To be honest, trying to find your 'other half' after university becomes somewhat of a herculean task. When I start working, I'm pretty sure I'd be spending most of my time dedicated to my job. After all, that's how I've been doing it all my life. Focusing my time and energy on things I love and am committed to. So, dating options might be relegated to those speed dating type nonsense and online dating. And we all know how the latter option worked out. I'm really not being resigned to fate here. I'm not feeling sorry for myself, I'm not being whiny.

I'm just saying, if I were to end up alone. I'd be okay with that. Because at least I loved and lost, and we all know that's better than never having loved at all.

To be honest, I always thought being in a serious relationship would make my decision on whether I'd be living in the UK or in Singapore more certain. But it truly doesn't. I feel like I'm being forced to choose quicker, if only to ease the worries of both parties.

So yeah, here we are. At this point, I'm really not unhappy. I can't exactly say I'm happy either. While the fate of my relationship continues to hang in the balance, with me having absolutely no control at this moment on the outcome, I can't really do anything but wait patiently for the verdict. I don't want to hope too much for a 'good verdict', and yet I don't want to completely give up as well. It's a fine balance. Too fine. I suppose, for the most part, I'm just mostly watching Masterchef Australia and doing nonsense to my hair.

I shall straighten it tomorrow. And it will be the first time it has been straightened in 2 years.

Ooh lah lah!

So confused, my heart's bruised.

I can only sit here and wonder if I just let one of the best things that ever happened to me slip away.

And all because I pushed him too far and too much.

I'm so new at this relationship thing it's not even funny.

It takes so much energy for me to just control myself from screaming.

It's just so unbelievable how little control I have over the situation, and that scares the hell out of me.

So, now that the deed is done. I can only sit here and wait. And wonder.

Out of reach, so far.

I'm building bridges that I know you never wanted

You realise that you're increasing in maturity when:

- You could easily argue your way out of something your mum wanted you to do. But instead, you just do as she said because she's your mum and you love her. And really, it doesn't take *that* much from you.

- You quickly learn that in a relationship (especially a long-distance one), it boils down to give and take. Sometimes you give and you don't get back in return. That's okay. Because sometimes you take and you don't give in return. You don't expect the person to act like you would in that situation, because you are two different people, and not copies of each other. If you *were* copies, that would be kinda like dating yourself, and that's creepy on so many different levels.

- You could literally order Mcdonalds right now, at 2am in the morning, but you don't, because you know you're not that young anymore, and anything you eat will go straight to your heart (or even worse, your thighs) and that's just not ideal.

- You don't immediately blurt out your inner thoughts on social media. You stop, think clearly about your audience, the impact of what you say, and its consequences. (I have to admit, I *do* rant here, and on Twitter. But in my defence, my twitter account is followed by a mere handful of people, and is locked. And my blog is not exactly well-known to most that actually know me.)

- Your conversations with friends start to turn towards current affairs and actual important things (although the occasional indulgence about Amanda Bynes or Kim K's new baby might be had).

- You know that although you are increasing in maturity, you still have a lot to learn in life. You're not well-versed in any one topic, or issue, you need constant life lessons and experiences, and you accept that. And perhaps, you know you might never be able to reach full maturity.

Because it all amounts to nothing in the end.

I wrote a post earlier. But my fucking horrible internet connection, coupled with my notion that perhaps it was just an angst-fuelled rant that no one should ever read, prevented me from publishing the post. Or even saving it for that matter (read: horrible internet connection)

However, as I am lying in bed, trying to get a bit of sleep and get rid of my jet lag (which is soooo not happening, at least for the next few days), I'm still fuelled by rage and almost-demonic levels of frustration. And so, I shall blog, in an effort to quel the seeping thoughts of near-suicidal hurt.

If you know anything about me at all, I will come across as mildly dramatic and slightly expressive. The more you get to know me, the more you realise, that is a drastic understatement.

My powers to over-analyse the smallest detail have brought me both great knowledge in my academic life, and great pain in my emotional relationships. I try to find patterns and links in certain things, subconsciously telling myself that history always repeats itself. And I'm, at my worst, a blob of complete insecurity, hankering for external validation from anyone and everyone.

Which brings me to my next point - I am not good at long distance relationships.

I have never been, and I never will be. 

I am, at my very core, very affectionate, expressive, and a hopeless romantic. I dream of getting flowers, chocolates, my significant other surprising me in the littlest ways. Spending precious moments together, and everything else under the sun. An LDR does not get you that. Especially when your significant other is so horribly bad at LDRs. 

I say I'm bad at LDRs, but I try. I know I miss him a terrible lot. I try to message him whenever I can, whenever I think of something funny that he'd love, I'll share it with him on Facebook. Whenever he's online, I quickly take that opportunity to say 'hi!' It's bad enough that he has no whatsapp on his phone while being in America. It just means that we have to try harder to communicate.

When I say we, I suppose I mean me. Because he sure as hell ain't doing fuck shit.

Before I got into this, I already (we already) knew it was going to be hard. But he is (was?) such a loving boyfriend, so sweet to me, and I thought I found someone who was so similar, yet so different. It was pretty perfect. But he is so fucking shit at LDRs. He doesn't understand the concept of making time to talk.

When we were talking about having to be apart for 2.5 months, he said we would make time, we would skype each other a lot. I haven't seen his face in more than a week. He was supposed to skype with me on Tuesday but he came down with food poisoning. Fair enough. I was annoyed, but I surely couldn't blame the guy. On Wednesday, I left for Singapore, and landed on Thursday.

He briefly chatted with me, perhaps in a conversation that you have with a close friend (at best). Just very general 'glad you arrived safe', 'how are you' sort of pitiful nonsensical drivel you spurn when you don't have anything else better to say to someone you're forced to communicate with.

Oh, but here is the humdinger! He told me he couldn't skype then because he needed to eat breakfast. I honestly think that is the most fucking lame excuse ever concocted by mankind. I mean, even dogs DO enjoy the occasional notepad paper. (Here, I am awkwardly referring to the ever-so-popular 'dog ate my homework' excuse.)

Yes, I do understand that breakfast is the most important meal of the day, and God forbid you skip it, ever! But is it honestly so unreasonable of me to maybe expect him to call me and talk to me a bit before eating?

I understand that his laptop is shit, and his phone is hopeless, and he is in Texas on holiday to meet up with his mates and everything like that. But to me, that's just excuse after excuse, piled up on each other like dung on a hot day. 

I just miss him so fucking much. But it's like he doesn't give a flying fuck. I know he loves me, I don't doubt it. I just think that I need more. I need to know that he misses me too. Misses me enough to count the hours until I wake up, misses me enough to constantly check if I'm on Facebook so we can talk.

But of course, I'm probably the only idiot doing that.

I'm so sick of feeling this way. I honestly am. I want to talk to him about it but I don't even know where to begin.

Maybe I really shouldn't be getting into a relationship in my 20s.

You would hardly recognise me, I'm so glad

I find it odd how certain people in Singapore are trying to fight for gay rights. I mean, that's all well and good, but we don't even have human rights in that country yet. So, y'know. If you don't have milk, why are you screaming for cereal?

Unless you really like cereal without milk. Then it's okay.

12.5 hours to freedom!

Then it's a whole lot of Davy, and then GERMANY/POLAND!!

I need to charge my camera.

So no one told you life was gonna be this way

To my boyfriend:

I'm sorry I have to say this here. But I suppose I'm too much of a coward.

A few months ago, I had the distinct pleasure of meeting a few men, the ones that stuck were Hart, Dworkin, and Mills. To name a few. I met them in my Jurisprudence module.

It wasn't much of a relationship when it began. In fact, as time progressed, I could see that the polygamous relationship was largely one-sided and abusive.

Instead of ending it though, I decided to make it work. If you ask me for the exact reasons, I could not tell you.

Now, I need to admit that I love these men. I do. Don't tell me otherwise, you'd be wrong. I love them.

And for the next few days, I need to envelope myself in my love for them, which means, our relationship will have to take a backseat.

Although I still love you so much, I cannot give myself fully to you until I settle the dust of my abusive, polygamous relationship with these apathetic scholars.

Until then, mi amor.

Steph xxx

I'm a little used to calling outside your name

I think I need to relax a little with how much I've been talking about Dave.

I feel like I'm annoying my friends by constantly talking about him, especially the single ones.

Like, to be honest, no matter how much I love my friends, if they constantly yapped about their boyfriends, I'd be pretty pissed off too.

Of course they haven't really said anything, mainly because they're really happy for me and stuff.

Still.

Yeahhh I should, like, maintain a bit.

In other words, I told him I loved him. And he said it back. And now I'm giddy with excitement and love for my darling boyfriend.

I'll shut up now.

My mirror staring back at me

I cannot wait for exams to be over.

My mind is a whirl of nothingness.

And law.

AJKSJFLKSFLCJSKDKXWOQLAIEODEJS.

And rant over.

Two strangers learn to fall in love again

Sometimes I like to sit back and wonder about the events that happen in my life. Why they happen, what purpose have they, how come they happened to me.

I suppose for many of the things that happen, good or bad, I never understand why until quite later into my life. And then I think back, and I realise that without the pain, I could never feel joy quite like this.

I think back to this time last year. I was knee deep in revision, trying to garner good grades for the semester to make up for my horrible grades in the first one. Between pages of case law and statutes, however, I couldn't stop thinking about how lonely I was.

At that point, I was no longer in the throes of depression. I wasn't fully healed yet, by any standard, and was still struggling to find myself. But I was okay. I was fine enough, just concentrating on the exams and my upcoming plans for the summer.

The summer was great. A fantastic opportunity to rid myself of the 'bad blood' of the past year, enjoying friends, both old and new, enjoying family, both the annoying and loving parts.

Before all of that, before that healing period, I was this close to giving up on everything. Oh no, I wasn't suicidal (I think. For the most part, at least.) I just was not in the slightest bit concerned with life anymore. To me, it was a big joke. I was never deserving of anything wonderful, for long. The slightest bit of happiness to come to me in a while, and it was just nothing but a big facade.

When my heart broke for the first time, when it legitimately plummeted to the ground in millions of pieces, it felt so surreal. I didn't think it could ever happen to me. I didn't think it would be exactly like in the movies, or in dramas, the emotional pain, so overwhelming it felt like a physical stab.

It took me a long time to slowly piece it back together. A lot of time, and a lot more mistakes. Things I wish I never did, things I wish I could just erase.

But again, now, I see that those again were learning curves. Slow crumbling of the wall that hid the potential of my true self. I was naive and young, thinking that the world was a big fairytale. That everything was easy. I never truly worked hard for anything in my life. I was (and sometimes still am) a spoilt child with doting parents and a fortunate childhood.

Being thrown into a situation where my mum couldn't be there to make sure I wasn't doing anything stupid, and my dad couldn't be there to be my knight in shining armour, it forced me to see that the world was a big adventure, but with every adventure there came perils, and so while I must enjoy myself, I needed to be careful.

Coming back to the UK, I was determined to start anew. Determined to focus on work. But it got too hard to concentrate, especially when I only have a few contact hours in university every week. So I ended up trying to date, again.

And of course, I suppose you could get a summary of how most of my dates went from my previous posts.

It was the Christmas break and the last guy I dated that really made me not want to do this anymore. The constant questioning, the constant yearning for futures with guys who obviously had little interest in me at all. It was enough. I had to stop and just be with me for a while.

And a few months later, I met the one person I'm questioning everything I've ever known. In a good way. (Most of the time.)

I'd like to think I'm no longer naive. And that I know how not to let a few kind words do me in. I won't pretend I'm now the world class expert in relationships. In fact, as I slowly let myself trust this man with my life, I'm still learning how to behave in a relationship, what to think and say, when to do what.

Most importantly, I've come into this fully whole and myself. Not who I think I should be, or who I want to be. Just me.

As I write this, I think about how extremely blessed I am, again. I just can't stop because I feel like everything's going pretty perfectly. (Sometimes, I wonder if it's just too perfect, but that's not for today's post.)

I had to come full circle for this. and I'm not even gonna pretend that I'll never get my heart broken again.

But it's nice to know that, for now at least, whatever has happened to me, happened for a reason.