Thoughts are just thoughts, when they're only allowed to be in your mind. Sometimes when you admit such thoughts, the moment they leave your lips, all of a sudden they seem realer than you thought they were. And all of a sudden they aren't thoughts anymore. They become reality. All of a sudden any doubts you had would disappear, and what were just little thoughts would turn into undeniable truths.

It is 7am on the mrt and I am sleepy as a kitten. I woke up at 6 and as always I always need to set at least 10 alarms to make sure I do wake up on time. I kid you not. I woke up and the first thing I saw was Baby Patchie's big eyes looking at me, hehe. She's such a precious little one.

I am quite grumpy this morning; Beanie is such an ankle biter. She bit my ankle for no reason and it wasn't even one of those playful chews. It was a hard bite and it hurt and now I have bite marks on my ankle. Not the best way to start off a Monday morning huh?

I think it's funny when you're taking the mrt so early in the morning and then you get a seat, you look opposite you and the people sitting there all have their eyes closed. It's so weird. And this morning I have the sniffles and I don't have any tissue so it's annoying. At least I'm not sneezing a whole lot, or else things could get messy if you know what I mean.

I don't have the blogger app on my phone because my phone doesn't have spare space for one more app right now so I have to blog through safari which means I can't upload photos and it's a bother. I guess I just have to make space. It's so hard because 80% of the photos in my phone are of Patchie and I refuse to delete any of them. I need to get an external hard drive because my laptop is full of her photos as well. What can I say? I am obsessed with my cat, not surprisingly.

It's only Monday, but I'm looking forward to the weekends already. I have a new romper to wear and I'm excited. I love rompers, but I don't have many. I'll be on the lookout for more because they're just so easy to wear and so comfortable. Only thing is sometimes getting out of them to pee can be quite bothersome.

Speaking of new things, I got a new lipstick that day and it is gorgeous! I put some photos up another time and maybe a short review on it if I can. I've only worn it once but so far I quite enjoy it. Only problem is my lips. I have really sensitive, peeling lips which act up on allergies and takes quite a long while to go away. I know I shouldn't be peeling them but ever since I was a kid I've had a thing for peeling stuff. I'm sure it is really common especially when we used to fall down when we were young and our knees bleed and eventually dry to scabs and we can't help peeling them. It's the same thing! I'm trying to resist though but I must say it's quite a gratifying. It makes my lips bleed and they look quite bad so I really need to find something to make them better and not be so dry and peeling all the time. I can't even use lip balm because my lips are so sensitive that lip balms make the peeling worse. Which I'm sure is no surprise since most lip balms contain a certain percentage of acid to make your lips peel so you'd use it more and buy more. It's really bad but I guess it's pretty smart since most people are unaware and just keep buying them.

I've reached Jurong East now. Toodles!

Patting Patchie's little bum because she likes it. You know, the way you pat babies to sleep.
I shan't even attempt to explain why she likes it. The only reason I can think of is.. She's a baby. She really is.

It is a Friday night, but my nights are all more or less the same. But the weekend is finally here and weekends are what I spend weekdays waiting for, as do most people I guess. However I must say I live for the weekends! Weekends are when I get to spend the most time with B, because he unfortunately has to stay in camp during weekdays. Boo.

Tomorrow there's an MPH book sale at Expo, where we go every Saturday for church. So I am very, delightfully excited. "You read?!" I know, I know. I don't look like much of a reader. But I am! I've loved reading ever since I was young and the library was one of my favourite places ever. The smell of books and pages just makes me happy. I love the smell of bookstores and libraries. They're such happy places to me.

I know there are many people who don't like reading and probably have not read a single book since graduating from school, B being one of them. But honestly I cannot comprehend why! I can sit quietly reading for hours at a time and be completely absorbed into the story I'm reading.
Whenever I read I feel like I get sucked into a whole new world. *cues Disney's 'A Whole New World' to play in the background*
It sounds super lame but it is true. I am a very visualizing person, so I imagine everything I read or hear.
When I read, in my head I see the house in the story, the neighbourhoods, the people, the rooms, the atmosphere and everything. Only bad thing is, it makes reading gory and graphic stories tough for me.
Which sucks because one of my favourite kinds of stories to read -you're going to think I'm a psychopath- is stories about child abuse. No wait, let me explain before you think I'm sick in the head.
There's always one common thing about such stories and that's the happy happy ending. I know most books have happy endings but these are true, harrowing stories of people who have gone through a life they thought they could never escape to emerge triumphant.
I don't know how to explain how I feel reading such stories. Just reading about people who have self-abused, or been neglected as a child or been sexually abused and had their childhood stolen from them by their abusers makes me appreciate my life more.
I need that. My life isn't glitter and rainbows. Far from it, actually. It just makes you feel good and happy when you read how in the end these people gained courage and strength to change their lives and to put their past behind them. I know how difficult it is to put a past behind. I struggle with it everyday too.
Somehow reading true stories like that gives me hope, even if it is short-lived.
I don't quite know how to explain it, I guess you can't understand if you've never get such books. They really pull you into the pain, the physical, mental and emotional violent destruction of the human body, and then builds you back up when you read how the author overcame their inner demons and the demons that are their abusers and live happily ever after, if you will.

Books are the only way I can escape from my own world. Reading just makes me happy. I know I don't look like it but I am quite a nerd, to be honest. So yes, I am very excited about the book sale tomorrow. Hopefully they're selling the books really cheap and I get to get more than one book I want. Happy kitty!

Off to bed I go now. It's 3.24am and I've to wake up at 9.30am, oopsie! Goodnight.

It's one of those nights where I lie in bed and think about stuff and lament on how hot the weather is.

I think about stuff very often, as you do. Sometimes they're pleasant thoughts, sometimes they're easy and insignificant thoughts. Sometimes they're tough and thoughts that make you sad.
I'm having some of those — the tough ones. But I'm alright, or rather I'm willing myself to be alright.
I don't know how my river of thoughts flowed there but I often find myself back to that one night, unsurprisingly, since it was a night that changed my life. I thought about how I'd made that call to B, and sobbing uncontrollably, trying to make myself say the words as I collapsed into a heap on the cold kitchen floor. When I managed to get the words out, his first reaction was disbelief, as anyone would have felt at receiving news of such. I remembered the tears, the pain, and the helplessness.

I don't know the process of grieving, but I do know that when we grieve we go back and forth between disbelief and acceptance. Right now, I'm back at acceptance. I accept the truth, and I'm not sobbing and hyperventilating as I so often do when I'm in my state of disbelief. I find that as time goes by, whenever I'm in that state of disbelief, I get more and more upset. Time doesn't ever heal our hearts, does it? When it happened, I was crushed, but perhaps the truth hadnt sunk in, I don't remember crying very badly. It's been over a year, but whenever I break down over it I cry so hard I hyperventilate and get throbbing migraines after that. I don't understand why. Is time not supposed to make things easier?

Perhaps I'm doing it wrong, or perhaps sometimes I feel like the pain is necessary, but often I let myself revisit that night, and go through what happened in sequence, feel the pain and remember it all. Maybe it's my way of holding on to her, to remember every last detail. I do so fear forgetting anything about her one day. I'm afraid my memories of her would fade.

Sometimes I feel like I'm getting better, sometimes I feel like I'm feeling worse.
I don't know.