The way he looked at me, there was a sort of tenderness. He would look right into my eyes, into my soul, and his face would somehow - for the most bizarre and unknown reasons -light up. And every time I turned to return his glance, his eyes would grow and his lips would curl to a small smile seeing me look back. There was a sort of contentment looking into each other, and there was such a strong sense of security just laying on his shoulders, admiring the distance rush by in the train.

There he was - the light at the end of a tunnel that I couldn't seem to understand nor escape; there he was - the person so close, so terrifyingly close, to the person I saw myself with forever. Under those tanned leather jacket was a person who saw the world in such a different light and perspective that it made mine look insignificantly crude. Yet, the patience he held in his heart, he sung peace to my ever shaking, changing soap opera of a life. He held my hand and everything - all the pain, holes, and scars - felt complete.

That was the first day we met, on a train down to New York City to chase passion.

Maybe we would have sped off into a beautiful start of a love story. Maybe; if only I didn't still have another person in my life, someone who loved me dearly. Because in a dormitory tucked right off the academic mall of my university was a boy a year younger than I am who had fell in love with me since I stepped into his life. He was a boy who cared with so much fervor, and loved with so much passion, that each day, while I should be dancing with glee, I ached with guilt. It was a guilt knowing that I'd never come close to loving him as he loved me.

So here is my humble story - my story of guilt and shame in manipulating two young men that I love immensely, yet would never be able to choose either.

On mother’s day

Hey guys, here it is again, the second Sunday of the month of May.

Ah, with the bloom in the florist’s business, the passing around of chocolate and the lingering fragrance of the carnation, how can one forget that today is the much celebrated (and for some, dreaded) Mother’s Day?

Here are some of my thoughts on this very special day:

1. The debate of the century. You have A who says ‘we should celebrate mother’s day everyday, this so-called mother’s day is a scam by the industry to boost consuming’ and then you have B who says ‘we should take this opportunity to express the love for our mothers’. Which is incredibly stupid, because seriously, they’re both true. I am always irritated because if I do something on this day, people are like fighting to talk at my face about the real meaning of mother’s day and how I’m being conned because I bought a cake. And if I don’t do something, again, people fight to spit at my face on how I’m insensitive.
   
   I take good care of my mum everyday. And while everyone is being so nice to their mum today, I really don’t want my mum to feel left out, so I’m do a little extra for her today. What’s wrong with people.
   
   
2. You have no idea how annoying it is to have Facebook packed with lovey-dovey-‘Mum I love you’ statuses. Some people even go all out and post like 1000 word statueses/poems declaring their love for their mom, or like naked baby photos with their mums bathing them or something. I mean, everything would be fine, if I don’t actually know how rude some of them treat their mums in real life. Omg, the hypocrites in this world. What’s the point of that 1000 word status of love and gratitude if (A) your mum is not your Facebook friend, she won’t get to read it and (B) you don’t plan to tell her in real life either.
    
   
3. This has nothing to do with anyone. This is me wanting to share #the awkward moment when you cook your mum 5 course meal for mother’s day and she ends up getting a really bad case of diarrhea #facepalm #failure #welcome-to-my-life. Omg the irony. My mum is really amenable, but I think I should go talk to her now before she considers disowning me, fml ‘_>’