Dear June

I won’t lie, I’m really enjoying this whole ‘video-making’ process, It’s not stellar or anything, but it’s so much fun trying to record every bit of life that I find interesting.

I am going to be on a plane for six hours in total tomorrow, here to Kota Kinabalu then back here again. My Lola is not well and my mom needs me to ‘pick her up’. I am bringing my camera along to find ways to vlog on the plane. Hopefully that works out for me.

I hope you’re having a great week! x


Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall

Humpty Dumpty had a great fall

All the king’s soldiers

And all the king’s men

Could not put Humpty together again

But who pushed Humpty?
Did he/she jump?

Maybe Humpty had had enough of everything. Maybe Humpty slipped. Maybe Humpty was trying to escape from something.

Maybe Humpty survived. Maybe he/she just had to be in a wheelchair for the rest of his/her life. Maybe Humpty managed to move on while having so many broken parts. Maybe Humpty could forgive his/her assailant. Maybe Humpty has amnesia, post-trauma.

Or maybe Humpty never truly fell, and it was someone else in his/her place.

Or maybe, too much crime-drama has finally made me a little too paranoid.

I don’t know where I’m going with this. It’s not a nice feeling, thinking of things that are broken or dead or gone. There has been a lot of watching of TV shows where characters die or leave. The books I’ve been reading so far have had people who died or left.

There has been lingering thoughts on people in my own life who are no longer ‘in it’, both metaphorically and literally.

Much like the plant in my last post, I think back on the many factors that lead to such situations. What did he/she say? Why did he/she have to go? What could have been done to prevent that loss? Perhaps if the diagnosis was made sooner, she/he would still be around.

While I go through my own five stages for the loss of my “plant”, I wish I could hurry the process and jump straight to ‘acceptance’. When something has been in your life for a long time, it definitely hurts a hell of a lot when it’s no longer around. When you’re to blame for it being gone, it’s worse.

Like a Hollywood divorce, the separation papers read ‘irreconcilable differences’. How true that is, I will never know. There was no reconciliation trial period, only the ‘living apart’ bit. There was never a report of being ‘in talks’ because no talking was done. It’s not fun. I think this is how it must feel like for a marriage to crumble. because you go into it believing in it’s permanence.

I am terrible griever. I spend a lot of time in anger and depression (stage 2 and 3).

I need to learn to be okay with this situation. It may break my heart, but I need to be okay with it.

heavy on the metaphor

If you follow me on Snapchat (hicklory), you’d know about Steve. If you’ve read this post, you’d know about Steve. In case that sounds too cryptic, Steve is the plant I have that sits on my window sill in JB. I water him every fortnight because he’s succulent. I talk to him sometimes. I pretend he wants to leave for an adventure but is incapable of doing it because he’s stuck in that little pot. steve My parents and I bought Steve and another one that looks like him earlier this year. Steve has stayed with me for the past four months or so and he’s thriving. Unfortunately, the Steve lookalike is currently a sad, shriveling, brown skeleton of its former self, in a large vase right outside our front door.

My mom asked me once, ‘how does your plant survive? Ours at home is dying.’ My answer was what I mentioned before: a little shower every two weeks, the sunlight that pours into my room and little one-sided conversations.

But I came home to find the doppleganger dead.

It’s silly for me to be a little sad about it. Sometimes, a lot of water, or a lot of sun, and maybe too much noise from the outside suffocates a plant. Maybe too much is simply that: it was too much. Maybe what is called for in life, is some restraint.