Humanity: At The Crossroads

“Kindness is a language which the deaf can hear and the blind can see.”
- Mark Twain

A good friend of mine once said to me, "your kindness will be your undoing". I can't say I agree, but I can see where she was coming from. I don't know about you, but I guess I can safely say that my society (arguably) lives by that statement. The unfortunate truth of the matter is that we, figuratively, are condoning and witnessing the loss of the core of our being - humanity.

You can't go a week without hearing the sounds of violent 'abuse' of the car horn or ludicrous,privacy-violating posts on online citizen-journalism platforms or social media here. As despondent as it seems, the fact that you can't really point your finger at someone or something does make the situation worse. Our conservative nature is inherent, and it has turned us clandestinely individualistic. Don't pretend this isn't true. If helping someone doesn't benefit you, you'd reconsider before helping them, wouldn't you? If you just heard rumors about an acquaintance, you'd avoid or be wary of him/her, wouldn't you? If you're stuck in a traffic jam,you'd use the car horn as a weapon and hope the rest of the drivers will open up the lane just so you can go through because you're just that important, right? If there's something stuck in your throat, you wouldn't even spare time thinking twice before spitting on the ground in public because your time is more precious than caring for the environment, right? If there's a queue for the toilet, you probably haven't considered the harms in taking your time to pee and using your phone while you're at it because those harms don't affect you, right? The list is endless. 

Picture this - you've just had a bad day. Your lover cheated on you, you just got retrenched, your pet goldfish took its last breath, and nothing is going your way. To find temporary relief, you find the nearest bar to drink your sorrows away, hoping they would actually disappear just as your soberness is. It didn't take you long to reach a point where you're on the edge of knocking out and you know you have to leave because you've spent all your cash on alcohol. You drag yourself out of the bar and towards the side of the road and try to hitch a ride despite knowing that carpooling isn't much of a culture here. Sadly (and not unexpectedly), you find yourself sleeping by the roadside and wake up to a crowd snapping photos of you to post on Stomp because you didn't manage to get a ride home without being threatened by the driver for payment on account of the law. 

Naysayers, or trolls (as the internet calls them), will obviously take a step forward to criticize me for contributing to the sorry state of our humanity as well. Don't act like that isn't going through your head right now. I definitely have. But that's just it. We all have. So who am I to blame anyone for it, or to say anything about it? I'm no expert, and neither do I have any important role. I'm pretty much nobody. I don't have the intention of blaming anyone for anything; what I hope to do is make a change. Just because everyone is doing it doesn't make it right, and just because not many who notice what's wrong are brave enough to try and fix things doesn't mean you should back out. It is time we stop the madness and embrace kindness.

Let's be realistic here. The state of humanity all around the world is far from excellence; we need to stop being delusional. Just recently, a 13-year-old boy was beaten to death in Bangladesh for allegedly thieving. The attackers, a group of men, tied him to a pole and began beating him despite him begging for his life, because (quoted from a report of the incident by The Straits Times) "his bones are okay". What is truly, absolutely disgusting is how they have the nerve to film the entire torture process and post the 28-minute video online. The incident "sparked huge protests". We have reached this point where there are people amidst us who can rationalize their attacks on the basis of allegations. If we don't do something about it, we will be on our way towards a dystopia, and yes, it is more than just being well-informed/aware of the news or 'hashtagging' for support on Twitter. It may seem as though there isn't much we can do, but if we put our heart into it, it isn't hard to realize that efforts to improve humanity must come from within and start with the smallest of things.

The case above, of course, is an extreme instance. I was in a lecture last week and this girl who sat in front of me dropped her pen which landed itself just below the seat of the girl sitting beside her in the next column of seats. The latter stared at the pen for a good three minutes before slowly bending down to help her pick it up, and even then it wasn't her who picked the pen up ad returned it to the owner, but the person who sat in front of her. While the majority of us have the heart to land a helping hand, there is still the selfish minority that, for whatever reason, don't, even when it comes to the smallest of issues, which makes it all the more abhorrent and vile. 

I guess what I'm really saying is it all comes down to the simplest of things. A world that embraces kindness and goodness isn't that much of a utopia if we all do our part. Sure it won't be realistic to think that of the whole world as a bed of sunshine and roses because evil dwells among us, but instead of resting on the grounds of all the impossibilities, think of what we can do if we trust in and embody the probability that such a world isn't far from our reach, no matter how small it may be? 

Next time, before you rush past a zebra crossing without giving way to the passers-by, or before you ignore the elderly lady struggling with her shopping bags as she crosses the street, try lending a hand. It can start from as simple as smiling at people as they walk by rather than burying your head in your phone screen. 

Out of Love

hammer in ebony and corroded iron nails —

out of love,

you clobber us to the ground

to help us stand

microchips and monitor screens —

out of love, 

you dictate our every move

to show us how to have our own minds

bullhorns and amplifiers —

out of love, 

you howl at us for not pinning up our straitjackets

so we look appropriate to you

meretricious persiflage —

out of love, 

you keep us in chains in a forced order 

so no one can escape The Eye  

invisible tapes and shades of red —

you put on a mask of maturity.

look: your ridiculous atrocities are leaking

out of love,
I ought to thank you. 

The Outlier

the edge of a sea of sober pensiveness —

I stood, silenced.

caressingly strangled at the hands of restriction,

I fell into dormancy. 

the oasis that is out of my reach: 

watch as they bask in the warmth of sunlight and 

ignorantly laugh at unimportance and

preoccupy themselves with meaningless small-talk that

defines their very existence to

justify the mockery they make of us for

what we are. 

wicked.

winter's dawn:

no sunlight came to our side but

bitter chill —

and northern lights become mere myths. 

the world of greying navy skies and white ice

in which we condition ourselves to survive —

turns the fire in our hearts

to ash.

Darkness holds your hand

like a mother would her child. 

"Shut out love, my dear";

"is there goodness here?"

then, to your ear, she'd whisper, 

"when you cross the invisible line that

protects you, 

the end is marked near."

still / broken

sigh

Staring at the purple wall behind her study desk that faced her, she wondered - why?

the purple wall packed with shelves and a framed painting faded to a blur 

She gave it everything she had. Everything then does not seem like much now, but for a fourteen-year-old girl, it took a great deal of courage for her to even think of doing what she did. She would know; and her six year experience in an all girls' school didn't do her much justice in this aspect. 

Then again, she still remembered what made her do it. There was a lot she could say; and, yes, it was those cliche reasons you'd see in a chick flick. What did you expect? For an immature, young teen-aged girl who was only in her second year of a daily encounter with boys in school, she only knew those kind of reasons existed. What really surprised her was how much it'd affect her. 

Go ahead, ask. What was the reason?

She'll still smile when she pictures it in her mind - his smile. His dimples fell nicely on the sides of his cheeks when he'd smile, and dimples are always cute; to her at least. Even now. Of course, that one plus point made everything about him seem almost perfect in the eyes of a young teen. 

In the early days of their acquaintance, she worked with him. His playful outward personality made her seem more like the teachers' pet, and she hated that it did, but she saw otherwise. You see, if a person was truly that playful - which was what they'd call "irresponsible" - he wouldn't have even bothered to reply her  text messages when she mindlessly freaked out over not returning the file to the office like she did. (It was part of their duty, and for her, it was a big deal.) 

He (and a friend) got into trouble once, and it wasn't those mild kind (like forgetting to do homework), it was pretty serious. To be completely honest, she still didn't know why they made it such a big deal. After all, it was only for dropping a bench and the loud bang led to a slight commotion. It was the only time the school was naturally "united" for something that wasn't an official school event. The hypocritical thing is that, with all the talk about establishing unity, they made that one instant seem a crime. (Don't blame them, this is the nature of our society.)

There was talk of a suspension. The ridiculousness of it all pushed her to write an email to their teacher to try to save him. Of course, being the coward that she was, she emailed it to the nicest teacher she knew then. She still isn't sure whether or not it worked. Perhaps the big trouble he was in was a compilation of all the minor mistakes. She didn't know anything. Still, she did all she could. Although, she shouldn't have assumed. She knew that. Who was she to interfere?

Everything else is a blur to her now. Even all that wasn't what she was confused most about herself. 

He never liked her back. Obviously. Why would he like an overweight, overtaken by puberty, goody-two-shoes like her? 

She did fess up to him before. At the bus stop on the way home, she mustered enough courage to text him "I like you". 

Yes, he used the "friend" tactic in his reply. Harsh? (It actually wasn't. It was pretty nicely put.) 

That wasn't enough to stop her.  

what was wrong with her?

❤

She got a jar. 

And purple paper covering. 

She made 99 straw hearts. 

She put them in the jar. 

She gave it to him in class. 

Not the best idea. In class? What was she thinking?

She heard him mutter "walao". Okay, the sign of bad news. 

Long story short:

A while later, someone told her where it ended up. 

Then, she cried - long and hard. (that's what she said moment not intended)

Guess where it ended up.                                                                      

♡

The pain still lives in her; it's just kept away, but she would never forget it. 

He wasn't mean to her or anything. He's a good person and she still believes he is. She doesn't have the right to blame him or think of herself and what she's done as 'spectacular'. It really wasn't because she isn't.

What do you know? A fourteen-year-old's idea of love. It's as innocent as that. 

The important thing is that, for what it's worth, she loved. It was an experience. :)

❤

O heartbreak - fare thee well

they walk past me;
methinks love hast made me a fool.
      eyes of pity;
      tears - thin as tulle.

thou art my compass
      giveth me much comfort, but -
O, 'tis thee?
      nay, I beseech; wilt mine eyes hath failed me -
      just as my heart
which, at last, hast broken.

still, I pardon thee;
thou need'st not be sorry.
'tis fate - cruelly
showeth me that it shall never more be love,
for it never has been.

I shall pardon thee,
      pain hath befalleth us, I doubt it not;
            dost thou weep thus?

if thou could'st, thou wouldst hath loved me
as much; 'tis not in thy capacity.

      ay, fare thee well

the silent death

       a piece of creative writing

         by Victoria Chwa

     

The Forgettable and The Insignificant

Spring. 

She sat, alone, atop the hill beside the lake, watching as a single Redbud tree grew in full bloom. It's beauty captured her completely; she had not broken her gaze upon it.

abnormal

What was there to not love? It was a magical sight — the simplicity of the little heart-shaped leaves as they rested alongside the delicate clusters of flowers naturally tinted in ombré magenta, all planted on a cleverly twisted trunk and outward spreading branches. There and then, the Redbud seemed to have enhanced the allurement of the whole scenery - the vibrant green of the frondescence, the soft blue shade of the sky surrounded the moieties of pure white clouds; its beauty was infinite. 

fool

Yet, there and then, tout de suite — she was overwhelmed by dolor. Solitude hadn't bothered her before until its impendence sunk into her mind and heart. The quiet indulgence of every hint of peace and happiness that often came from innocent reclusiveness had become a sign of social suicide and, as the universal apperception would have it, there would be no survivors. Admiring the Redbud tree still, she screamed and began to tear. 

not good enough

The day was fresh, with a lively spring wind, but it was horrible to be among such amazing company without a heart to truly savour every bit of it. You see, pain was as simple as it looked - you had to cry and try to let it all out before you are silenced by the voices inside your head. 

unworthy

But she stopped, remembering that screaming was not normal. You had to understand that eccentricity was a deformity. There were no positive connotations in being bizarre, and it certainly was nothing to be happy about. fall She stood, silently and slowly, as the pain gradually took control of her every subsequent move and thought. She forced a wry smile that pinched her face instead of smoothing it. As their words turned, repeatedly, in her mind, she began to realize that her life was one of experiment. lose The search for herself was entirely internal and she was fighting a losing battle against society. 

prisoner                                                                                                                                                    be free

Reality has it that you had to be normal to be accepted, which is subconsciously always being harped upon because your acceptance determines your survival. It was a social rule; non-conformity means death. Your thoughts didn't matter to society, neither did your feelings. Only achievements that are socially deemed as successful would acknowledged as 'true success'. It didn't matter whether or not you were beautiful, much less unique on the inside. Image had always been secondary to her, but not to society. You had to look the part to play the part. You had to be perfect. The irony - so much said about being yourself when not a soul was brave enough to stay true; fear her - especially. 

just...

fade                                                                                                                                                          stay true

The vibrant flora, ardent blue sky and flawless white clouds became increasingly blurred.

The Redbud tree, once alive, dimmed into a dusty shade of gray.

Those who wandered - disappeared.

All that was once authentic - now a mere product of society.

Smiling, sincerely (for the first time in forever), she shut the windows to her soul and said to her beloved, "when we become forgettable and insignificant, always remember - we had today; then fade away and be happy."

away

The Existence of Magic

♥

I dedicate this (part) to you in particular.

In all my life, I never thought that something as magical as this could happen to me.

Then, you showed up and you proved me wrong.

Thank you.

♥

When she was there the first time, she hadn't actually considered that it would be her second home for the next two years of her life. Before she knew it, she had to face the reality that she had never thought she would. With her old, reused, black-and-pink coloured backpack, her hair pulled back and tied in a single, simple ponytail (that did not compliment her) and her fear overwhelming her (which was no surprise), she stood by the concourse, lost and clueless...

♥

There he sat, quietly, beside me. I could hear him breathe slightly heavily; perhaps it was the result of rushing into the hall just a while ago. As we waited for the commencement of the Orientation, the thought of taking the first step to make some new friends had turned in my head for the millionth time. After all, that was what this whole week was about, wasn't it? 

Yet, the only thing that was holding her back was the apprehension that had crept inside her ever since this whole thing started, and something told her that it wasn't planning on leaving any time soon. Still, as the saying goes - "if not now, when?"; and that was when she decided to take the risk. She looked around her and tried to look for a possible 'target', but everyone else seemed to have had a head-start. Just when she was expecting things to take a turn for the worst, she realized that the only other person that seemed to be "lagging behind" from others in this struggle was that boy sitting beside her. 

"Here goes nothing," she thought to herself - mustering as much courage as she could possibly have had inside her at that time - she turned to him and said "hi". 

While that was happening, she was also contemplating about how the next moment would end up like, and she came to a conclusion that it would be awkward. Little did she know that the denouement would be far from her prediction, because at the very instance of her making an attempt to start a conversation with him, he did the same thing, at the same time.

Wow. 

Is it possible for something so simple to be so enchantingly serendipitous?

The weird thing is, though, the concomitance did not culminate there. Just as they were laughing at what had just happened, they both turned to each other and asked "what's your name?" at the same time as well; that was when she realized that, perhaps, this wasn't a mere coincidence. 

Perhaps, this is the existence of magic; and, perhaps, this whole journey would prove it.

♥

Overthinking | Death of The Outcasted

A while back, I posted my thoughts on over-thinking. I've decided to turn this into a series of posts because one post is just not enough to express how the pain of being and over-thinker through words.

So here goes.

Perhaps one of the more frequent derivations of over-thinking is from feeling like an outcast. I say this because this has been happening to me a lot lately. Without a doubt, it is becoming incessant; but then again, that isn't the real problem. 

Everyone is bound to feel like an outcast once in a while. I think we've been made to think that it's okay, and that is where the real problem comes in. You see, it is because we have been made to comply to 'what's right' and think that feeling like an outcast is 'normal' and 'okay', close to no one will think about caring when they see someone looking like they feel like an outcast, even if that person is someone they know, because no one would care enough to observe and see if anyone is feeling like an outcast. It is also because of this that The Outcasted will then feel like because no one seems to show any concern that what they're feeling is wrong and they shouldn't speak of it or they would be, as some would say, 'abnormal', which makes them feel more outcasted than they already feel like now. This is where over-thinking comes in, which inevitably leads to inner-death.

For some reason, I have been feeling like an outcast a lot lately. I think it's growing on me - into some kind of phobia; because of this, I am perpetually afraid of being hated or alone and especially of being ditched by friends, because it's kind of like an indication of my inadequacy of being a person, let alone friend, that pushes them away from me. And it's scary to be living with this fear.

Scary. 

I'm beginning to realize that the scary thing about overthinking is that it kills you, slowly, from the inside. It is the constant turning of all the negativity and angst from being outcasted that makes us victims of this silent, invisible murder. What's scarier is that all this will lead to a never-ending internal war between us and them. The moment we lose our sanity - they've won. Perhaps that is the most common and often unsaid cause of most people's death.

Sometimes I wonder if anyone else can relate to this...

"What is wrong with you?" they asked her repeatedly and apathetically, but unfortunately, not rhetorically. 

What could she do? 

Nothing. 

Nothing but stare blankly at the ground and ponder over all the possible causes for her abhorrent, and possibly indubitable, abnormality. What was wrong with her? Why did she fall into the untouchable category of the out-of-the-norms? She could not find an answer and it seemed as though they were waiting for one - one that will serve as an explanation for her asininity. 

In hopes of coming to a conclusion, she questioned herself - what was right about her? To her dismay, that was harder to answer, and she came to realize that there was no answer to the latter, because the answer to the former was and always would be everything. 

At that instant, enmity grew within her - bitter, agonizing hatred for herself and everything erroneous about her. There was sadness in her eyes - the worst kind; the kind that resembled scars, the kind that would never disappear. Even then, the torture had only just begun. Perhaps, she thought, this internal struggle was a sign. At this point, there was no doubt that, in all that is evanescent, it was time to end the pain. There was absolutely no point in living when you had to be constantly reminded of how inadequate you are, especially in a world that is in perpetual pursuit of perfection. 

Still, she felt like a stupid weakling, defeated and tormented by just a few words. 

No, they were not just a few words. 

They were daggers. 

They were stabbing and slashing her from the inside; they have not stopped and she was certain that they would not stop. 

Still, she tried to stop them. 

She tried to ease the pain by letting the blood escape from her internal wounds. 

She took pills to silence the haunting voices in her head that have put those two deadly questions on repeat. 

She was tied to the bed in a dark corner in a place for special people like her. 

No, nothing was working, and she knew that. 

Her heart stopped beating. 

She lost touch her soul.

They were taking over her.

She could no longer think, they thought for her. 

They said she was only normal if she thought that way.

She could no longer speak, they spoke for her.

They said she was only normal if she spoke that way.

She could no longer move, they moved for her. 

They said she was only normal if she did what they told her to. 

She began to believe them. 

It was the right thing to do.

Overthinking | The Eternal Curse

I am quite sure I've been cursed. This torturous blasphemy has become so much a part of me that it defines me, and I hate that it does.

I'm an Overthinker; and it is, in a lot of ways, a horrid reality. It has become so severe for me that it is impossible for me to go a day without thinking too much into even the most simplest affairs. I'm not even kidding. Even seeing a friend close to someone else makes me feel like I'm not as important to them as they are to me, like I'm just a backup plan. Being alone makes me feel like a reject. Hearing people around me laugh makes me paranoid that they're laughing at me. I know it's stupid and crazy, but I can't help it, and I hate that about myself.

In my struggle to maintain my sanity, someone once told me that "it only matters to you because you make it matter". That phrase resonated with me to the depths of my soul. Ever since then I've been wondering — why is it that we tend to wonder off into the unknown, digging up the worst memories hidden in the darkest corners of our minds, when we clearly don't want to recall it?

I don't know if it's the same for you but, whenever I overthink, one thing leads to another; my head ends up in a twirl, my heart feels like it's been stabbed countless times and is about to give way, I can't think and then – BOOM – tears burst out of my eyes like water gushing out of a broken dam. It is at that very moment of affliction when all those recurring thoughts become questions — haunting questions that will never be answered, ones that force us to redefine ourselves and our purpose in life. At this stage, the curse would have already set in, and once it sets in, there is no turning back. I'm not alone here, right?

I read somewhere that life is about moving past the past and going towards the future. But because the future lies in the vast unknown, fear steps in, and the only thing that we can fall back on for support is our past experiences. It's not as easy to let go and move on as people in movies and television shows make it out to be. Thence, I'd like to believe that at the end of it all, our minds will be the cause of our own psychological suicides. No matter how hard we will ourselves not to succumb to this kind of self-torture, it'll never stop, because it isn't something that can be cured overnight. In fact, there really is no cure at all. I can't just ask you to stop overthinking. You can try, but it rebounds, doesn't it? Things don't work that way, not in this case at least.

I think it's time to admit the truth. Overthinking is the reality. It's a curse, it's eternal, and it's here to stay. Are you going to do anything about it?

I'm not happy

I'm unhappy. I haven't been truly happy for the longest time. I guess it's another horrible start to a post but I've come to a realization that I am not happy, and I don't know why. 

This kinda got me thinking — what makes me happy?

I thought about it and tried to find an answer but I really don't know. You're probably judging me right now and I can't say I blame you. It seems pretty impossible to not know what makes one happy; surely there are things and people I like that make me smile. 

And there are! I love my family, my friends, my classmates, my collection of stuffed-toys; I love travelling; I love trying new things and chasing dreams; I love shopping, singing, spending time with people who are important to me. I love a lot of things — the list is endless. 

But then again, just because one loves many things doesn't mean they are happy with the life they're living, nor do these things makes them genuinely smile all the time. In a lot of ways, we all want to be happy but don't know how. I'm no exception. I guess I'm in this point in my life where I'm overwhelmed by everything I'm going through – all the commitments and expectations thrown at me – so much so that I've lost and forgotten what it means to be truly happy, and it sucks. I'm pretty sure I'm not the only one.

I don't know where I'm going with this post. I guess I just wanted to talk about how I really felt. I mean, as much as I like being introverted and being alone, there are times when I've to let my thoughts out. 

So the truth is that I'm not happy, I don't know why and I don't know what to do about it. What about you? 

We've only just begun

I'm not sure how many times I've attempted to upkeep a blog, and I'm not sure which attempt this is. All I know is that I've probably deleted many blogs in the past few years after abandoning them but that's not going to stop me!

I admit — I have the First-blog-post Syndrome, a deadly disease where one fears writing the first blog post because they never know what to write, or what is appropriate to write. That should explain why this post may be a bit lengthy and boring so give me a second here and deal with it, okay? I guess I should start by introducing myself, and what better way to do that then with an awkward, badly-taken selfie?

Hello, my name is Victoria Chwa. I'm 17 (year 2014); from Singapore. There's actually not very much to me. I like spending my time writing, watching Taiwanese or Korean soap operas, singing and frolicking in the garden of roses in a fantasy land in my head. I'm rather quiet by nature, so I don't talk as much as I think. I'm currently studying in the Arts Stream in Pioneer Junior College, and I hope to get a Degree in Psychology in future. Like any other teenaged girl, I spend a fair bit of my time scrolling through online shops (which I plan to open soon) and, most of the time, end up buying things I want but don't actually need and then regretting it later while desperately trying to find a way to use them. :P

I also have a blog on Wordpress which you can check out by clicking the tab on the menu bar above. If you're wondering why I have 2 blogs, my Wordpress blog is for all the times when I feel extra philosophical while this blog is so I can share my day to day shenanigans with you. I hope you don't mind! ^^ 

I absolutely love watching videos on YouTube. I'm a fan of almost every youtuber there is to watch. I hope to be able to start a YouTube channel one day, and be able to travel and see the world and go to Vidcon or Playlist Live. I also hope to open my own online store soon. :x

If you're wondering what I will be posting here, I'm pretty much going to share almost anything and everything — from my daily activities and hopefully inspirational thoughts to product reviews and advertorials. I don't really have a plan of what to post so I'm just going to post anything I feel like posting because I'm a rebel and I roll that way. ;)

That's pretty much it for an introduction I guess! :) I'm not really pretty and neither do I have a good figure or anything worth being known for so I don't expect this blog to 'blow up'. That's not my aim of starting a blog anyway. Some people keep diaries, others keep a sketch book, but I choose to try to keep a blog. And whoever you may be, I hope you'll enjoy visiting my blog. :) I will try my best to upkeep it this time! XD Honestly, this is the blog I'm most satisfied with so far. :x

Well, this wasn't so hard. After all, we've only just begun (Yes, quoting The Carpenters). ;)