Weird how your life turns on its axis
It turns around the moment i signed a piece of paper
I didn't know the consequences, I didn't even think about what it means
All I knew was I'm doing this to get my dad off my back
To let myself free to do what I love
To do what I do greatly
Where people are in awe of what I do
Where people wish they're like me, chasing her dreams since she was young. Even if it meant giving my life away the moment I'm old enough. It's funny how it feels a lot like a fairytale - like Cinderella with her 12 o'clock chime, Aurora and her spindle, Snow White and her poison apple. Everything seems fine until the time's up. Until the moment's over.
13 08 2016
am i too intense?
how would you describe yourself? everyone would insert 'nice' somewhere along the sentence because thats what we're supposed to be. we're supposed to be nice and compliant and easily nodding.
i think im too intense - i fall too fast - but its not falling, its not crushing, its not loving, its pining.
pining for people i can never have is all i can do.
and now i dont even know if i actually pine for people im supposed to.
and it scares me because will my family even accept me if i am?
and it terrifies me because i know deep down that im not even going to be able to tell for myself for i live in a cage, in a prison, with golden bars and diamond encrusted shackles. in the middle of nowhere.
i dont think i can come out
i dont think i can change
i dont think i can try for myself
i dont think i will ever have the chance to
i dont think i will be happy
and thats why i read, i suppose
because focusing on my own problem would be too much of an ache - heartache headache stomachache everywhereache - and its easier to lose yourself trying to fix someone else or at least reading about how they fix it.
how would you describe yourself? everyone would insert 'nice' somewhere along the sentence because thats what we're supposed to be. we're supposed to be nice and compliant and easily nodding.
i think im too intense - i fall too fast - but its not falling, its not crushing, its not loving, its pining.
pining for people i can never have is all i can do.
and now i dont even know if i actually pine for people im supposed to.
and it scares me because will my family even accept me if i am?
and it terrifies me because i know deep down that im not even going to be able to tell for myself for i live in a cage, in a prison, with golden bars and diamond encrusted shackles. in the middle of nowhere.
i dont think i can come out
i dont think i can change
i dont think i can try for myself
i dont think i will ever have the chance to
i dont think i will be happy
and thats why i read, i suppose
because focusing on my own problem would be too much of an ache - heartache headache stomachache everywhereache - and its easier to lose yourself trying to fix someone else or at least reading about how they fix it.
13 08 2016
Dear,
It's been a long time. I've neglected and postponed and forgot about everything i promised I would write. I told myself to not go there, anytime I feel like the word vomit would come out of my mouth,
Don't
Go
There.
I promised myself to not write or think about anything bad when I'm on vacation. It was time for happy thoughts, with sun and sand and coconut water and fishes and boat rides and happiness. But no. of course something has to happen.
I dont think im going to forget about this in some time. i dont think its going to change anytime soon.
I was being brave, being courageous and confident and loving and happy and then she screamed for me to
cover
it
up.
nobody wants to see your fat hands with the excessively big arm and your folds and your fat belly and your big thighs and your stretch marks
even though im proud of my body
ive been through so many words so many insults so many shame so many stares and chiding and thinly veiled insults and crass words in my face and behind me and in my head its all saying the same thing
your body is not worth looking at, how could anyone love it? and if i dont have my body i have nothing else. i dont have my nail art skills i dont have my compassion i dont have any knowledge or anything worth except my body because how can someone love me if they dont love my body
i see girls and boys and kids and old people on instagram being confident brave FABULOUS. nobody ever says that about me except when i pose and tuck in and push in and press that screen drag it slowly so no one would notice the difference with my actual body because god forbids my tummy have rolls and my arms look like a bodyguards and my shoulder look like a swimmers in my social media.
and the worst part is, theyre the ones who bring me into this world. theyre the ones who are supposed to love me for who i am for me for myself for my body for my brain for my skills for my love for the things i do and the things i dont
or perhaps i should lower my standards. even my parents keep telling me to change to evolve to be something else. and today i noticed it. i change the way i talk the way i style my hair the way i talk, i dont remember talking like myself because i have to hide and cower and run away, but i cant run.
my dad dont even take the time in his day to ask me how im doing how my college is doing how my nail art is doing am i even good enough in my nail art am i earning the right amount of money am i overcharging or undercharging how about my makeup skill do i want to be a makeup artist a professional nail artist a blogger a vlogger a businesswoman. nobody asks so i guess thats why i dont think i will ever be enough to be anything worth someone's side glance.
but for now i have to focus on how to get these eyes to depuff asap.
It's been a long time. I've neglected and postponed and forgot about everything i promised I would write. I told myself to not go there, anytime I feel like the word vomit would come out of my mouth,
Don't
Go
There.
I promised myself to not write or think about anything bad when I'm on vacation. It was time for happy thoughts, with sun and sand and coconut water and fishes and boat rides and happiness. But no. of course something has to happen.
I dont think im going to forget about this in some time. i dont think its going to change anytime soon.
I was being brave, being courageous and confident and loving and happy and then she screamed for me to
cover
it
up.
nobody wants to see your fat hands with the excessively big arm and your folds and your fat belly and your big thighs and your stretch marks
even though im proud of my body
ive been through so many words so many insults so many shame so many stares and chiding and thinly veiled insults and crass words in my face and behind me and in my head its all saying the same thing
your body is not worth looking at, how could anyone love it? and if i dont have my body i have nothing else. i dont have my nail art skills i dont have my compassion i dont have any knowledge or anything worth except my body because how can someone love me if they dont love my body
i see girls and boys and kids and old people on instagram being confident brave FABULOUS. nobody ever says that about me except when i pose and tuck in and push in and press that screen drag it slowly so no one would notice the difference with my actual body because god forbids my tummy have rolls and my arms look like a bodyguards and my shoulder look like a swimmers in my social media.
and the worst part is, theyre the ones who bring me into this world. theyre the ones who are supposed to love me for who i am for me for myself for my body for my brain for my skills for my love for the things i do and the things i dont
or perhaps i should lower my standards. even my parents keep telling me to change to evolve to be something else. and today i noticed it. i change the way i talk the way i style my hair the way i talk, i dont remember talking like myself because i have to hide and cower and run away, but i cant run.
my dad dont even take the time in his day to ask me how im doing how my college is doing how my nail art is doing am i even good enough in my nail art am i earning the right amount of money am i overcharging or undercharging how about my makeup skill do i want to be a makeup artist a professional nail artist a blogger a vlogger a businesswoman. nobody asks so i guess thats why i dont think i will ever be enough to be anything worth someone's side glance.
but for now i have to focus on how to get these eyes to depuff asap.
05 05 2016
The idea of documenting my rants and memories has been brewing for a long time, but I never had the courage to actually do it due to my fear of people finding out about it and branding me as a whiny little bitch. But I had no more channel to actually express myself, since my 'friends' brand me and judge me either way.
So first let me tell you my story.
I'm a girl who has just turned 20 last month, and yet I don't feel like I'm 20. My parents still control my life pretty much in any aspect that they can control. My food, my diet, my (lack of) exercises, and most of all, the things I love doing.
You must be thinking, wow, this girl must be doing drugs or at least an alcoholic. But no, what I'm actually in love with is nail polish. I ran to nail polish and nail art back when I had nothing to do with my time when I graduated from junior high to high school. I had 2 months of free time and I just found out about nail art through YouTube and blogs. I started buying cheap nail polishes, and imagine my disappointment when my nail polish application was as good as a 5 year old child. But I still try to do my nails, even though my school doesn't exactly allow the students having long nails, neither do they allow having students using nail polish. My trick? Applying them late at night, taking pictures, and then erase them right before I go to sleep, so my nails are always clean whenever I go to school.
It kept on going like that until I graduated from high school, in which I actually found a community of nail art addicts, which then fueled my passion for nails. And by the way, my technique improved a lot better now lol.
Oh, and you should probably know that I'm obese. Back when I graduated from high school, I weighed 100,4 kg. Which is around 200lbs for you Americans. I didn't see my weight as a problem, only a nuisance that I have to go to a specific store to buy clothes. I joined the gym with the encouragement of my friends, and my parents got me a personal trainer. I lost 20kg in about 3 months in that holiday period teenagers go through when they graduate from high school. The minute I got to university, the cravings I managed to suppress in the holidays came back tenfold. I started gaining my weight back, and having no time going to the gym due to the busy nature of uni life, I gained almost all of the weight I lost. I was 18.
At first I didn't notice it, but as time goes, my clothes no longer fit me, the skinny jeans that I bought is simply too tight and I now put it in the back of my closet so I don't have to see it again.
This is right where the story gets a little depressing (to myself, at least).
I LOVE doing my nails, and other people's. I invested a lot of money in the tools, the polishes, and other trinkets. My friends and family say that I have more nail polish and trinkets compared to the nail salons. I opened up a little online shop where I sell press-on nails (fake nails) and I started to gain a lot of money doing that. I found out that a lot of people really love what I do and they're willing to pay me for it.
On the other hand, my parents are your usual strict Asian parents, who sees nail polish and nail art as a distraction. Not a distraction to my studies, since they could care less about it. But it's a distraction to my weight loss/management. The time I spent on caring my nails are time I'm supposed to go to the gym, to train, to lose my weight. Back when I lost all of that weight, I started having a crush on one of my classmate. I thought, with positivism that a girl can get from losing a lot of weight, that this time around my crush or feelings wouldn't be one sided any longer. I was wrong. The guy, who I actually went to high school with, still see me as his best friend, and he went on and got into a relationship as I started gaining weight again. I guess I don't see the benefit of having a slimmer figure if the guy that I like still wouldn't see me as beautiful, and found a girlfriend whose body is enviable.
Back to today's rants and memories. I just finished filming a nail art tutorial for YouTube when my dad suddenly came upstairs. He saw me with the full gear of my usual YouTube shooting, the tripods, the lightings, and of course, the nail polish. Just a few days earlier, I asked him to take my camera to his friend to be swapped with a newer design, which I'm planning on paying by myself, as I have already saved up money for it. He started to raise his voice (he never screams) asking me if the new camera is actually for this whole nail art business or not. He asked me what time I'm going to the gym today, since it's holiday. I told him I'm on my period, and he started the old threat of throwing all of my nail polishes or putting them in the garage or breaking off all of my tools. I actually want to see him do it, want him to see how broken I would be when he actually did it, for him to see that nail art is one of the very few thing that I'm good at and losing it would only push me away further. I want him to see how broken I am, so finally, finally, he would start actually caring for me, actually wanting to try to get to know me.
My dad has been a traveler his whole life, the amount of time he spends at home is a lot fewer than the time he spends working. my history with him isn't exactly a happy memory either. The biggest, most vivid memory I have with him is when he locked me up in the garage when I was 5 or 6. I had been riding my bike across the complex, and I was living in a highly volatile province, where crime happens every day right under our noses, so he forbids me from riding my bike too late. I came home when the sky has been dark, with him standing in front of my home. He never raises an arm on anyone, so he stood there, with arms across his chest, and told me to go to the garage. He hung my bike on the ceiling, turned off the light in the garage, and left me there. I have no memory of what happens next, but I'm guessing I cried a lot. I don't even remember what time he actually took me our of there, or who actually let me out, my mom or my dad. Ever since that, I've been on edge around him. Waiting for the time he actually keeps me in the garage again, or simply raising his voice.
So first let me tell you my story.
I'm a girl who has just turned 20 last month, and yet I don't feel like I'm 20. My parents still control my life pretty much in any aspect that they can control. My food, my diet, my (lack of) exercises, and most of all, the things I love doing.
You must be thinking, wow, this girl must be doing drugs or at least an alcoholic. But no, what I'm actually in love with is nail polish. I ran to nail polish and nail art back when I had nothing to do with my time when I graduated from junior high to high school. I had 2 months of free time and I just found out about nail art through YouTube and blogs. I started buying cheap nail polishes, and imagine my disappointment when my nail polish application was as good as a 5 year old child. But I still try to do my nails, even though my school doesn't exactly allow the students having long nails, neither do they allow having students using nail polish. My trick? Applying them late at night, taking pictures, and then erase them right before I go to sleep, so my nails are always clean whenever I go to school.
It kept on going like that until I graduated from high school, in which I actually found a community of nail art addicts, which then fueled my passion for nails. And by the way, my technique improved a lot better now lol.
Oh, and you should probably know that I'm obese. Back when I graduated from high school, I weighed 100,4 kg. Which is around 200lbs for you Americans. I didn't see my weight as a problem, only a nuisance that I have to go to a specific store to buy clothes. I joined the gym with the encouragement of my friends, and my parents got me a personal trainer. I lost 20kg in about 3 months in that holiday period teenagers go through when they graduate from high school. The minute I got to university, the cravings I managed to suppress in the holidays came back tenfold. I started gaining my weight back, and having no time going to the gym due to the busy nature of uni life, I gained almost all of the weight I lost. I was 18.
At first I didn't notice it, but as time goes, my clothes no longer fit me, the skinny jeans that I bought is simply too tight and I now put it in the back of my closet so I don't have to see it again.
This is right where the story gets a little depressing (to myself, at least).
I LOVE doing my nails, and other people's. I invested a lot of money in the tools, the polishes, and other trinkets. My friends and family say that I have more nail polish and trinkets compared to the nail salons. I opened up a little online shop where I sell press-on nails (fake nails) and I started to gain a lot of money doing that. I found out that a lot of people really love what I do and they're willing to pay me for it.
On the other hand, my parents are your usual strict Asian parents, who sees nail polish and nail art as a distraction. Not a distraction to my studies, since they could care less about it. But it's a distraction to my weight loss/management. The time I spent on caring my nails are time I'm supposed to go to the gym, to train, to lose my weight. Back when I lost all of that weight, I started having a crush on one of my classmate. I thought, with positivism that a girl can get from losing a lot of weight, that this time around my crush or feelings wouldn't be one sided any longer. I was wrong. The guy, who I actually went to high school with, still see me as his best friend, and he went on and got into a relationship as I started gaining weight again. I guess I don't see the benefit of having a slimmer figure if the guy that I like still wouldn't see me as beautiful, and found a girlfriend whose body is enviable.
Back to today's rants and memories. I just finished filming a nail art tutorial for YouTube when my dad suddenly came upstairs. He saw me with the full gear of my usual YouTube shooting, the tripods, the lightings, and of course, the nail polish. Just a few days earlier, I asked him to take my camera to his friend to be swapped with a newer design, which I'm planning on paying by myself, as I have already saved up money for it. He started to raise his voice (he never screams) asking me if the new camera is actually for this whole nail art business or not. He asked me what time I'm going to the gym today, since it's holiday. I told him I'm on my period, and he started the old threat of throwing all of my nail polishes or putting them in the garage or breaking off all of my tools. I actually want to see him do it, want him to see how broken I would be when he actually did it, for him to see that nail art is one of the very few thing that I'm good at and losing it would only push me away further. I want him to see how broken I am, so finally, finally, he would start actually caring for me, actually wanting to try to get to know me.
My dad has been a traveler his whole life, the amount of time he spends at home is a lot fewer than the time he spends working. my history with him isn't exactly a happy memory either. The biggest, most vivid memory I have with him is when he locked me up in the garage when I was 5 or 6. I had been riding my bike across the complex, and I was living in a highly volatile province, where crime happens every day right under our noses, so he forbids me from riding my bike too late. I came home when the sky has been dark, with him standing in front of my home. He never raises an arm on anyone, so he stood there, with arms across his chest, and told me to go to the garage. He hung my bike on the ceiling, turned off the light in the garage, and left me there. I have no memory of what happens next, but I'm guessing I cried a lot. I don't even remember what time he actually took me our of there, or who actually let me out, my mom or my dad. Ever since that, I've been on edge around him. Waiting for the time he actually keeps me in the garage again, or simply raising his voice.
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