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I’ve never really been an overly religious person, despite having been a Catholic all my life. I do make the occasional visit to church, yes, and I most definitely know the words to the Lord’s Prayer. Yet, despite all this, I’ve struggled with my faith on numerous occasions, even going so far as to question the existence of the abstract being known as God. Is he merely a figment of our imagination? A convenient excuse to convince common folk to do good? Are all our highs and lows really part of his grand plan? Does he really possess an elaborate, multi-faceted blueprint of our destinies? If so, why would he put us through any suffering – especially if he loves us? His ways were tough for me to get my head around, then I realised, not too long ago, that I wasn’t meant to understand them in the first place.

Perhaps we’re not meant to question the existence of God, nor question his ways. For even if conclusive evidence of his existence is never found, his grace transcends the realm of possibility. Maybe he doesn’t really have a plan for us – maybe there isn’t an author in the skies penning down our life stories. The test papers we somehow passed against all odds, all our successes and tragedies, they all might very well be predetermined scrawls on the scroll of time. Even so, I like to think that I believe in God. Not in his existence, but rather in the reassurance that he can offer me when I need it most.

I’ve lost count of the number of times I’ve subconsciously muttered a prayer under my breath when in distress. Somehow, it always helped in calming my nerves – be it in the examination hall or when alone in the dead of night.  Isn’t it magical how one can find the strength and courage to press on, just by having a little faith? No external motivation necessary, just pure, unadulterated belief, yet it is enough for one to find great fortitude. In essence, God is to me what a well is to a vast desert, a ready source of sustenance in what can be a long and bitter fight – a fight known more simply as life.


“One of the cruelest things you can do to another person is pretend you care about them more than you really do.”


Feathers blown backwards

Feet bent towards the dark

Oh circling blackbird

Eat not the lesser lark

Hello dear readers, it’s been a month since I last wrote. I trust, and know for a fact, that you’ve all been good. Coincidentally, or rather, uncoincidentally, it’s also been a month since I first donned the uniform of a Junior College student. It’s been a hectic month of meeting new people, making new friends and staying awake (cough) during lectures. I’m excited about this new chapter in my life, and I’m determined to make sure its first paragraph would be a bloody good one.

Having studied in a boy’s school for the last four years, I was eagerly anticipating an educational experience with those of the opposite sex. Striding confidently into the school hall, I took a seat beside a girl dressed smartly in a navy blue pinafore. Greeting her good morning, I awaited her response with bated breath. Alas, my first taste of conversation would begin with a rather depressing “Could you move? My friend’s sitting here later.” Clearly dejected, I shifted my belongings to another row and buried my head in my hands. This wasn’t going to be as easy as I thought.

I was blessed with a wonderful orientation group, one that was warm and accepting. The walls that separated us were knocked down in a matter of days, thanks in no small part to two particularly outgoing individuals who acted as social superglue. Fourteen meals at Eighteen Chefs and eighteen falls in the ice skating rink later, I can confidently say we’re one big happy family. I’m a quiet person by nature, so there are times where I may seem distant, but I trust that my orientation mates know that they hold a big place in my heart. After all, they were the first people I could call friends in a new, foreign environment.

Fast forward two weeks, and I’m now in the company of my new classmates, eighteen wonderful people, all unique and beautiful in their own ways. Project work group assigned, class committee positions decided, all that’s left to do is to hang on and enjoy the ride. Oh, about that poem up there that I wrote, let me explain. I had a horrid day today, and those four lines sum it up. I’ll leave you to decipher its meaning. Anyway, I hate to end on a somber note, so here’s to two years filled with happiness and success. Clink your drink against mine, dear brothers and sisters, hell do we need each other.


“It wasn’t them, it never was. In his eyes I could see exhaustion, for years of lying to himself had taken its toll. I closed my eyes for a brief moment, for I couldn’t face him any longer. The truth hurt, but the worst part? Never was I going to be able to run away from him. Then I turned, and ran away from the mirror on the wall.”


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“We owe it to each other to tell stories.”