blank space

There are some people you miss because they left a space where an ending should have been. This is a quick epilogue to the first-heartbreak chapter, because I never leave a story incomplete.

A few years later, that boy came back into my life without an explanation for his disappearance. The closest thing to a reason came wrapped in practicality: he wanted to focus on his last year of high school and avoid distractions. As if vanishing was a productivity hack. I half believed him, the way you let a bandage pretend it’s stitches. I wanted a noble reason more than the truth. Any excuse can feel like relief when you’ve been living on questions.

I expected his comeback to cure the ache. I pictured it sliding into place like a false tooth, covering the raw nerve. When he returned, my body stayed braced. My mind didn’t celebrate. My heart didn’t open. The old silence sat between us like a bruise you don’t poke. Bitterness rose first, then something darker, close to vengeance. Teenage me had wanted an answer to “Where did you go?” Adult me wanted acknowledgement of the crater he left behind. The adolescent burn cooled into something defensive. I could hold a grudge like a Taylor Swift bridge.

He acted like we could restart without touching the rupture, and he assumed my heart would forget what it had learned. But I couldn’t. The gap taught me what erasure feels like. So we didn’t get back together, because I resented him more than I missed him.  

And maybe that’s the real closure: not the lost explanation, or a happy ending that mends a broken heart, but the fact that my life moved on, and the strange realisation that the door I’d been staring at was never the only way forward.

ankle deep in yearning

There’s one particular scene in the latest Wuthering Heights movie that stirred an unexpected sadness in me. I didn’t understand why until I pulled it apart.

It’s during Catherine’s fever spiral. She’s lovesick in bed, the room blurring as time folds in on itself. In her delirium, the boy Heathcliff appears; then his hand reaches from under the bed and holds her ankle. The touch strikes like memory in muscle. She doesn’t look down, but her skin recognises him, as if childhood has returned to comfort her.

Under his grip, her body unclenches: I’m here. I’ve always been here. The adaptation carries their history without words. The past arrives through contact, and it grabs hold. Their story runs on yearning: the hunger to belong, to be seen by the person who knew you before you outgrew yourself. Beneath the romance, there’s protection, too: the flashback of him shielding her from her father’s violence. The gesture becomes shelter: Stay with me. I’ve got you. As she slips away, her mind reaches for the first safe place it ever learned to trust.

That’s when it hit me. I know that yearning. At seventeen, I was infatuated with a former boyfriend. I replayed our conversations like a broken record, trying to track down the part where he stopped wanting me. I told myself it was love, because what else do you call a feeling that consumes your whole body?

One day I was in his world. The next he blocked me, erasing us with a click. The silence left blank space instead of closure. I kept pining for him the way a tongue keeps checking a missing tooth, resisting the clean finality of absence.

So when Catherine reacts to that hand on her ankle, I notice the cycle: the brain clings to what once felt good and keeps wondering, Where did you go? The wound stays open, so the search continues.

That’s the heartbreak: a hand around an ankle. As her body begins to give way, the scene strips their tether back to instinct: reflex, nerve, something older than choice. Attachment refuses to let go. It keeps asking for the answer it never got.

match my freque

The “Opalite” music video by Taylor Swift is about meeting someone who resonates with your frequency, letting you be yourself unapologetically. It’s a magical connection where your quirks are celebrated rather than tolerated.

My story with Dave began in the opposite way. He felt like my ideal man, and I was convinced he was out of my league. I tucked parts of myself away, packing the colourful, messy pieces of my personality into boxes and shoving them into a closet. I tried to become someone who matched him, terrified I’d scare him off.

A few months in, I couldn’t keep the facade. I got a little unhinged, the boxes cracked open, and the real me spilled out. And to my shock, he didn’t flinch. He opened each hidden box, oddly amused by the opals inside.

That was the pivot. I stopped bracing for rejection. His calm met my chaos, and he stayed, accepting me exactly as I am.

I admired his character from the moment we met, and I tried to meet him there. Nineteen Valentine’s Days later, the twist is that he’s changed too. He’s tuned into my energy: cheeky, playful, and gloriously goofy. He jokes that I must have “dropped and broke him,” and that scenario still makes me laugh. I picture him as a pristine piece of china that fell into a kaleidoscope. Now he’s the one sparkling in my colours, matching my frequency.

fortnight

Taylor Swift’s double album defied expectations, surprising fans who anticipated a deep dive into her six-year-long relationship. Instead, Taylor chose to explore a whirlwind romance that lasted merely a fortnight. While some fail to understand, I see a profound truth in her focus. Fleeting relationships, though brief, often leave a lasting impact precisely because they lack closure. There’s a particular intensity in the abrupt end of something that feels like it’s just beginning, it retains a sense of perpetual newness, never fully realised, and leaves behind a haunting sense of unfinished business.

In contrast, long-term commitments, which have weathered birthdays, holidays, and countless shared milestones, allow for a gradual detachment. These partnerships often end with a slow fade rather than a sudden stop, giving both parties time to adjust and process the separation. But the short-lived romance? It cuts off before it even seems real, leaving a trail of what-ifs and might-have-beens. 

This stark juxtaposition in Taylor’s latest tracks speaks volumes about the complexity of human emotions and connections, emphasising how deeply we can feel for someone who has barely grazed the surface of our lives compared to another who has been firmly entrenched in it.

two point five

It's rare for Asian men to have much facial hair; they usually sport a patch of awkward strands - a pathetic excuse for a moustache. I'm not a fan of the mo; it just makes them look sleazy, so I avoid my male friends during Movember because I never know whether to slap them or laugh at them. Ruggedness is attractive, but it has to be a manly, five-o'clock-shadow kind of rugged, not a lazy-to-shave-even-though-I-don't-have-much-hair kind of rugged. 

RD is clean-cut and nicely shaven on all of our dates, but I like catching him unshaven when I come over unannounced. R definitely stands for rugged. I also like his chiselled jawline and the tickling of his five-o'clock shadow on my cheek as he jokingly pulls my face against his while I try to push it away because he's telling me he hasn't showered. I also like how he sniffs the top of my head when we're waiting at traffic lights. Stupidly, my heart flutters a little when I recall these moments.

case of the ex

After my tutoring session last night, my student’s grandmother shared a delightful anecdote from her past. We were talking about names when she told me that, during her pregnancy with her only child, her late husband insisted on naming the baby *Alex, regardless of gender. His reason? It was the name of his high school sweetheart. Being young and easygoing, she agreed, and their daughter was named Alex.

Looking back, she finds it all a bit strange. She chuckled and shook her head in disbelief as she told the story. “After 40 years,” she said, “all you can do is laugh.” I couldn’t help but joke, “Well, at least whenever you’re annoyed with your daughter, you’ve got an extra reason to frown at her name.”

Her story got me thinking about exes. Oddly enough, I seem to get along famously with my boyfriends’ former girlfriends. I suppose the ex and I usually have one thing in common: excellent taste in men (or at least one man). One of my close friends, in fact, is my high school boyfriend’s ex. I met TL after their breakup, because I was his friend before they dated. I ditched the boy but kept the friendship with the girl. As my relationship with him fizzled, our bond only grew stronger, especially once we found ourselves throwing darts at the same photo.

I’ve connected with most of the exes and had a few meaningful chats, though there’s usually a hint of awkwardness, a half-smile, a soft cough, a quiet nod to shared history. The one exception is TL. With her, there was no tension - just an easy, natural friendship.

red wine

Last Friday, RD took me to a posh wine bar post-dinner, where we engaged in playful banter over a glass of red wine. He chose a light one for me, knowing my alcohol tolerance is comically low. My cheeks warmed, and I felt giddy, laughing more than usual.

As we stepped outside, rain began to pour. We sprinted half a block before I started gasping for air, my chest aching. Under one umbrella, I leaned against him, my heart racing and eyelids drooping, feeling like I was having a mini-heart attack. I needed to sit down, just to catch my breath, and told him I simply wanted to sleep.

He panicked, calling my name repeatedly, giving me water and hugging me tightly. In my dreamy state, I mused that dying in his arms wouldn’t be the worst way to go.  After a few minutes, the spinning stopped and I sobered up.

Moral of the story: do not drink and run.

you belong with me

Dreaming 'bout the day when you'll wake up and find
That what you're looking for has been here the whole time
If you could see that I'm the one who understands you
Been here all along so why can't you see?
You belong with me...

Taylor Swift - You belong with me.

This song always makes me smile. It brings back a conversation RD and I had back when we were just friends.

RD: I met this girl...

Me: *Drops the mobile phone* Cool, what's her name?

RD: It's *Jenny

Me: I know her.

RD: You know everyone!

Me: I don't know her that well, but we have mutual friends. Need me to stalk her for you?

RD: Haha no thanks, we're just getting to know each other. We've gone out with a few others and had a few short conversations.

Me: Great, so why not ask her out on a date?

RD: I'm not sure if I like her.

Me: You probably don't. Only kidding... Why not?

RD: There's just no chemistry.

Me: That means you definitely don't like her.

RD: I think I need to get to know her better, I need to have some alone time with with her so I can see why there is no chemistry. She's intelligent and friendly. I just don't understand why I have no chemistry with her.

Me: Because you already have chemistry with somebody else.

RD: Hahaha you're funny.

eternal sunshine of the spotless mind

Our relationship has its ups and downs. I'm not one to air my dirty laundry in public, as my new philosophy is to document only happy moments, not sob stories.

One of the greatest abilities of the human mind is its power to forget. We've both forgiven much but forgotten most. Sometimes it's good to remember, but only to recall the lessons learned. When the fight gets too heated, emotions are heightened, sanity scatters, and our harsh words can potentially break us up, but they can definitely break something else too.

What if there were a way to erase it all? When we're in the middle of an ugly brawl, aside from my swollen eyes, it's my heart that suffers the most. Yet still, my heart keeps beating. Because even when broken, it still works.

"I have found the paradox that if I love until it hurts, then there is no hurt, but only more love." - Mother Teresa.

like a version

We watched “I Love You, Man” over the weekend, and this quote from the movie struck a wistful chord with me: "You've dated a lot of women; what makes you think that she's The One you want to marry?” 

I've had my fair share of boyfriends, each different from the next, but they all had one or all three superficial commonalities: tall, in the IT industry, and named David. Coincidences, I promise. When Dave and I first met, I nicknamed him D3 to avoid confusing my friends, who were losing track of the Davids in my life. Dave jokes that his biggest fear is the arrival of D4, as I trade him in for an upgrade. But honestly, D3 isn’t just another version. Apart from sharing a name, occupation, and height with my previous boyfriends, the similarities end there. For starters, Dave is my first  Christian boyfriend, a detail that makes a world of difference in the dating game, where nobody gets to score. 

Generally, couples are best friends by default. Ours is a special case because I was given the best friend role before the girlfriend title. He once said to me, “Sweetie, you’re nobody’s default best friend.” After almost 2.5 years, I'm still as giddy as I was on our first date. I tell him everything, from my Christian struggles, uni stress, and neuroses, to mosquito bites, shopping purchases, and lame sushi jokes. He is my best friend, my confidant, navigation system, foot warmer, a closet comedian with bizarre metaphors, and the greatest boyfriend in the world. 

I appreciate all the grand gestures and especially the little things he does. He naturally, subtly walks on the side of the traffic. He always saves the best part of every dish for me, carefully shells my crab claws, and discreetly places them in my bowl. Chivalry is not only alive and kicking but also incredibly hot. But most of all, he makes me feel safe and protected. Even right now, with a thousand walls between us, I still feel like he is beside me. All the time.

gold sprinkles

There once was a social butterfly, but now she has found her nectar.

Big parties, busy ambience, crowded bars. What used to be exciting is now exhausting. Nowadays, I find pleasure in being with one particular person and still having a blast. I love the quality time we have together. After an exquisite date in the city, we curl up at home and talk about everything.

These cozy moments often go unnoticed, but they're the foundation of any strong relationship. Being able to enjoy each other in every way gives me assurance that we can do this for the next 60 years of our lives. After two years as a couple, the spark is still there, but the nervousness and anxiety have been replaced with silent familiarity and a security blanket that tucks us in every night. These moments leave an afterglow sprinkled with gold, proving how blessed I am to have met that one in a million with whom I connect. I sometimes forget this when things go wrong because we're human and make mistakes.

Nevertheless, this rare connection that we have makes all the heartaches and tears worthwhile. No one is perfect, and in between learning our differences and life's interruptions, that connection is sometimes lost in translation, even with the most patient boyfriend. I get annoyed at times, my mood swings hitting any bystander, who is usually him, faithfully standing by my side. I erupt at the slightest sign of trouble, often without sufficient ground. Thankfully, these little golden moments remind me to look at the big picture.

home, sweet home

I’m grateful for RD; he’s been my rock and the perfect distraction. He puts a smile on my face and takes me to happier places, both in my heart and in the world around us. Yesterday, we jumped into the car and headed to an impromptu destination. RD let me be the navigator, and I picked Stanwell Park for its famous scenic routes.

We sat at Bald Point, soaking in the breathtaking view, with the wind in our hair as we thanked God for all His beautiful creations. The sun shone bright and warm, so we wandered around the park, squinting at the brightness, checking out the hang gliding launch pad, and adding it to our must-do list. Between discussions about wives expecting husbands to be handy and the unmatched usefulness of IT Programmers, we checked the map for our next adventure. 

RD remembered reading rave reviews about the Sea Cliff Bridge, so we set off down the Grand Pacific Drive. The Grand Pacific Drive is a worthy, yet laidback rival to its Victorian inspiration, the Great Ocean Road. Beginning at the Royal National Park in Sydney's south, this road carves through craggy cliffs past rainforests, beaches and coastal villages, climaxing at the Sea Cliff Bridge, to Wollongong and beyond. It may lack natural wonders like the Twelve Apostles, but the Grand Pacific Drive is naturally wonderful. 

Keeping with the theme of exploring Sydney, my best friends and I hit the city nightlife. We took far too many photos at Ramen Kan, browsed the night markets, and tried on items we had no intention of buying. We strolled around Darling Harbour, being tourists in our own city. I cherish God’s gift of relationships; being with RD and my best friends feels like home. 

A Melbourne trip with RD and two of our mutual friends might be on the agenda this Easter break. We’re planning to do some café and bar hopping, fine dining, and cruising along the Great Ocean Road to Phillip Island for the Penguin Parade.

One by one, my loved ones are bitten by the travel bug and eager to see the world. As they move overseas, I hope they don’t forget how amazing our home, Sydney, truly is.

all in good time

It feels like yesterday when we sat in the car in our pyjamas, chatting into the wee hours of the night and still buzzing from that deep and meaningful conversation the next day. I still remember the numerous non-dates we went on, where you convinced me that fine dining with a friend was considered normal practice.

I was frustrated at times, wondering why God dangled the chemistry cord between us, yet deprived us of the courage and wisdom to pursue more. When we look back now, you admit to chasing me, and I obviously didn't run very fast.

Neither of us is perfect, and we've shared good times and bad. Our relationship has endured trials and arguments that could have broken us, but instead made us stronger.

I may not always agree with God's timing or all of His decisions, but ultimately, He really does take care of us and wants the best for us. I dearly hope that God isn't teasing me, because if this isn't the best, then I can't imagine what is.

Happy 2-year anniversary, Handsome!

his smile

Smiles. Warm, genuine smiles.

Nothing beats the flash of pearly whites. It's like when a flashbulb from a camera brightens up a dark place before a photo is taken.

I haven't seen that smile in 5 days.

Another 16 days to go.

tense

Somewhere between 6 and 7 in the morning, amidst blind grabbing for my mobile phone and repeatedly silencing the snooze button, I tossed and turned amid erratic dreams of those who once were. I remembered the people who left me behind, or rather those I left behind and couldn't retrieve. It still hurts when I poke at the memory. The cavity between my ribs when I roused was a painful awakening because I thought I was over it. It only took an innocent conversation with some girlfriends about emotional baggage for the nostalgia to rudely interrupt my subconscious once again. 

I dreaded the lonely car ride to work this morning, as it would have given me too much time to over-analyse my dreams and drive me to insanity. I asked RD to accompany me and, because of his loving nature and observant trait, he must have sensed the urgency and desperation in my voice and agreed without questioning. I appreciated the gesture, knowing it would be an inconvenience for him since he had to take the train to the city from my office due to the terrible peak-hour traffic.

Our drive was lovely. We talked about our dreams, and he lightened my mood by recalling the nightmare he had about his battle with two giant spiders. I confided in him, and he gave me his philosophy on dealing with past issues. At one of the traffic lights, he leaned over and kissed me mid-sentence. I didn't expect the display of affection and melted when he pulled me in for a hug, whispering sweet nothings in my ear. His romantic stunt really made my day, and I can still feel the warmth of his hug. I love hugs. I can't think of anything more comforting than a timely, firm bear hug from someone who genuinely cares. Sometimes, when we're fighting and no words of affirmation are convincing enough, a hug can win the hardest argument. 

As RD weaved through the busy traffic, I gazed blankly out the window, feeling the sad residue from my dream and being choked by my thoughts of the past. I felt someone's warm hand pressed on mine, and when I turned to my right, I saw my handsome present and future smiling back at me.

brighter than sunshine

Bike riding has always been one of my favourite activities. In Kindergarten, I taught myself to ride a bicycle without training wheels. Training wheels were for pansies - I was a daredevil and born to ride.

Flashback to that particular day when RD and I raced around Bicentennial Park on our bikes. After a couple of hours, we took a break and sat under the bridge by the lake to chat and duck-gaze. I remember feeling a sense of calm and tranquility as I watched the water move evenly. The ducks appeared to be napping in a sitting position while still floating leisurely around the pond.

I could hear the pigeons flapping their wings nearby and the scampering of tiny insects. I could smell the fresh grass and the new mud just below us. But mostly, my senses were overwhelmed by the warmth of the sun as it tickled and kissed my skin. It was a memorable afternoon and one of our best dates. I remember how it suddenly rained as we ran hand in hand to his car, laughing like two kids at Disney World. That memory of us still makes me feel all warm and fuzzy. There’s just something innocently sweet about someone holding my hand while I'm running, especially when it's someone I love.

spark

I'm a proponent of human chemistry, deeming it a key ingredient for any healthy relationship. If you've ever experienced that famous feeling we tag as chemistry, you know it's a tingly and powerful emotion. Chemistry is the undeniable current of electricity between two people; it creates a spark that identifies a connection between them. Chemistry can bond people emotionally, intellectually, or romantically. You're incredibly blessed if you can find all three forms in one person.

Sometimes, people can misinterpret friendliness for chemistry. At the risk of sounding arrogant, I'll label myself as friendly to make my next point. On more than one occasion, boys have mistaken my friendship bracelets for commitment rings. My fellow females can relate to this sticky situation and know that it only goes sour if not handled with care. It's always safe to apologise for leading someone on and politely tell them you don't feel that way about them. There's no room for confusion, and you're actually assuming some responsibility for accidentally captivating him with your charming personality.

It annoys me when a person freaks out because someone is interested in them. Girls who cannot handle attention do not deserve it. Take it easy, sister. He is just asking you out to lunch, not proposing marriage. A socially intelligent girl will convert a romance mix-up into a pleasant friendship. If the guy is truly unbearable, she should just file him under the "not my type" category rather than damaging his reputation by sharing the "bad pick-up" story with others. Above all, we should remain civil. Whether or not we have chemistry with someone, they still deserve acknowledgment and respect.

head in the sand

At some point, we all struggle to face the big issues in our lives, and it's common to go into denial, ignoring our mistakes and hoping our problems will disappear. Turning a blind eye is tempting because when we can't see something, it seems to cease to exist.

Facing the realities of life can be stressful, painful, and admittedly embarrassing, especially when we are personally accountable for our actions. During my rebellious phase in senior high, I made excuses or denied all blame to disguise my failures. As I got older and took on more responsibilities, it wasn't as easy to bury my head in the sand.

We often choose ignorance because accepting accountability to God, rather than to material things, would require us to change our lives. We should live the life He chooses for us rather than following our human desires.

Thanks to a kind reminder from my fellow Christian friends, I will repent by tackling my issues and stop impersonating a human ostrich - burying my head in the sand was only fun when I didn't fear God, who is both fair and very forgiving.

nostalgic pool

I was having a hard time concentrating at home, so I decided to visit an old friend called Liverpool. This suburb has a special place in my heart. I grew up here, so the feeling of belonging is natural and comfortable. Some would consider it a tacky town, but whenever I'm here, I feel 15 again. It's all familiar in a nostalgic and amusing way because everything reminds me of something else. I love it like a sister loves her daggy brother whom she doesn't want to be seen in public with.

I browsed the town and drove past my high school. I strolled around the plaza, smiling at all the shops that my best friend and I used to visit. I skipped past the bus stop where I had my first kiss. I remember being scolded by the same mean bus driver at least once a week for missing the 843 school bus and using my school bus pass after hours.

My next stop was the Liverpool City Library, which holds many fond memories. During my primary school years, the library was my fortress of solitude and a humble home for the bookworm that I once was. In high school, the library was a convenient canopy for the social butterfly that I had become. Whatever reason I had to be in that building, it was always a great experience.

When I stepped into the library today, my heart skipped a beat and my cheeks ached from grinning. The library still has the same effect on me; the warmth (mostly because the air conditioning is always at the perfect temperature) and security (no bad people here) is what brings me back. The librarians are the most helpful people known to man, eager and happy to assist with any inquiry. I don't think I've ever met a grumpy librarian. The library now has a café in the foyer and free wireless internet access, so my laptop happily connects with its new friend. Kids are so privileged these days - back when I was in school, I had to line up to use the communal computer for 15 minutes.

I chose a window seat that faced the park to help me get into study mode. Maybe it was a bad idea, because I'm just gazing into my past instead of writing my essay. From where I am sitting, I can spot the tree that I used to nap under when I skipped classes. It's ironic how I hated school, yet I am back at UNSW to study Secondary Education. The difference is, I am learning to teach, not learning to learn.

love conquers all

It's painful to say 'I love you' and not hear it said back. That's why I lied to my ex-boyfriends and replied, "Me too." In hindsight, those were just words. Words that made people happy. I loved making people happy. I wonder if they'd be angry at me now if they found out that I lied? Or maybe appreciative of the gesture? The male ego is a fragile and delicate thing. Maybe I did love them, to an extent.

The older I get, the more I understand love. No power or force on earth can be stronger than love. And God's love is the greatest love of all. Through His love, we obtained salvation. "God demonstrates His own love for us in this: While we were still sinners, Christ died for us." - Romans 5:8