When things gets out of hand…

What do you do when things gets out of hand, and you desperately need to get them back on track? As of late, I’ve been worrying about a lot of things, making plans, and hoping that they will turn out fine in the end, regardless of the faulty… processes, because I’m terrible… very terrible at multi-tasking.

I’ve always been a horrible muti-tasker, and I couldn’t really do many things at one time.I have to concentrate on doing one thing at a time, or… I’m afraid… I’ll screw things up, and things will get pretty ugly.

When I was still reporting, I was practically struggling, because as a reporter, multi-tasking is one of the basic skill needed for news digging process. I wasn’t a good multi-tasker. My former editor could vouch for that, but thank God, I was known for being rather attentive and assertive when it comes to hunting down news or interviewing. I made a pretty good investigative journalist to the point when I resigned, they still persuade me to come back… to this very day. Perhaps… one day I’ll go back into reporting.

But I am not quite sure if I really want to, despite of the adrenaline rush it gives me as investigative journalism in Malaysia has become rather ugly and horrid…with all of those nasty murders, conspiracy and whatnot.

Back then when I was practicing, it wasn’t as bad, and with the things that’s going on lately, I tend to wonder if I decide to go back into reporting, staying in the gossip column would be better? I don’t know…for what it’s worth, freelancing and being a writer is much more fulfilling than practically living in the newsroom or running around for news. LOL. (Sorry boss… kakaka…I want to ‘kill’, not ‘be killed’. But I’ll let you know if I decided to go on suicide mission again)

Anyway, I’m really straying… what I meant to talk about is the things that you do when things gets out of hand and your plans is thwarted. What do you do, actually? When things gets out of hand on my side of the world… I would make a to-do list, and work on them one by one, not simultaneously. I can never do things simultaneously, because I only have a pair of hand and only one brain to control my movements.

So… tell me… humour me… what do you do… when things gets out of hand on your side of the world?

Cleffairy: *sigh* Things never go as plans but thank God I’ve always have back up and 2nd and 3rd plans in case my 1st plan is ruin!

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Let’s make love…

Now, please get your head out of the gutter. What I really want to say is let’s make love, not war. I know it’s really hard… especially with the corrupt people out there with loads of sinister plan to keep and every one of us apart…to keep us from being united…to execute the age old military ‘divide and conquer’ in a more modern and subtle way so that they could benefit from our emotional sentiments.

I really couldn’t understand… why people hate one one another, just because they speak different language and have different skin colour? God loves variety, that is why he ‘paint’ us differently. Imagine everyone looking the same, sounding the same, now that would be not only disgustingly horrific, but would would be such a bore, wouldn’t it?

Anyway… I’m kinda sick with the bloody 1Malaysia campaign, especially when even with the bloody campaign being shouted around, things still remain the same, and there are still people who hate one another because of each other’s difference.

I don’t understand why our Prime Minister is concentrating on shouting about unity… keep reminding us to be united when we could have a better way of being united… which is working towards the same goal and achieve excellence. Okay… I admit… perhaps my mind is still living in Tun Dr. M’s era… but back then… I feel that whole Malaysia have a purpose…have a reason… to work together, that is why back then, racial sentiments are not exactly the things you heard in schools and whatnot. Back then, we got no time to think about how different we are, because the former Prime Minister keep urging us to advance, move forward, and be competitive. I think that was healthier for the nation. We were much more motivated than now. There’s issues, yes, but having principals screaming racial stuff in school assemblies is unheard off back then.

In my humble opinion… constantly telling people to be united is just reminding people how different we are, and through that, we’re reminding ourself that we’re not exactly equal. Maybe the current PM does not think this way and he means well with his slogan, but sometimes, the effect of his campaign is just the same as reverse psychology…what a misfortune.

Instead of that keep reminding people that they are different and reminding them to be united, why can’t we just forget the whole bloody thing, and continue to work and make our country better in terms of technology, education and economy?

Working together towards the same goal is better than keep reminding people that they are different and keep telling them to be united, because once we have a goal to achieve…once we’re motivated to move forward, we’d be automatically united to work and achieve something to make our country stand up in the eyes of the world again.

Come on… *sigh* let’s make love, not war. Let’s work and achieve something instead of just wallowing on how different we look and how strange we all sound to each other.  Do our part in nation building.We got better things to do than waste time in reminding each other that we’re different and constantly reminding ourselves that we’re different. That’s not news. What’s news is that we still have a lot to learn, and time does not wait for us… and so does the rest of the world.

Cleffairy: You know what’s the REAL problem with Malaysian? The real problem is we’re too free…we got too much time on hand, that is why we have nothing better to do in our free time and we irk each other to pass time! Do you agree to disagree with me? Feel free to jot your thoughts.

ps: Does anyone have a Punjabi or an Indian girl to intro to my 5 year old Chinese son? You know… I think we can work something out…let the kids gets to know each other and learn to love one another. Who knows? We’d be family one day. I bet the grandchildren will look really pretty! I’d really like to have an excuse to celebrate Deepavali! Ohh, yummylicious food and pretty saree and henna! LOLOL!

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Miracles happen

I never really did consider myself a blogger. I prefer to be known as an author, a writer and a reporter. Because if being a blogger means that you write an article or two everyday and receiving feedback for it, then I could have been a blogger since 1999, because I started to write faithfully, devotedly and oh so passionately that year.

I wrote for various websites, submitting my fictional stories, and I get feedbacks for that, and the feedbacks that I get for my stories are way more than I get when I… ‘blog’. Comments came in hundreds per day, and I had troubles replying to each and every one of them. Unlike blogging that’s pretty much Malaysianized, my fictions were international. I had friends from all corners of the world.

And I not only get feedback and comments… I earned loads of brownie points too through my fictions. I had fans who admired me for my creativity, my quirks and my hopelessly romantic stories.

I had loads of fans, whom I upgraded their status into my personal friends begging me to continue writing when I decided to officially go on hiatus in May 2002 so that I could concentrate in pursuing my studies. It was not an easy decision… to go on hiatus because writing has always been a part of me, and it was slowly killing me inside that I could not tell stories anymore.

You see, I actually feel as if I’ll go senile if I didn’t write. It must be the Tun Dr. M syndrome. Can’t keep still and can’t stop being sarcastic…. and can’t stop writing. 😀

I kept in touch with most of these fans turned friends during my hiatus, and I am so proud to say that even though I stopped writing, they did not stop loving me for who I am. They became good friends, though I have yet to meet them in real life.

As of late, I discovered that one of the sites that I wrote for back in 1999-2002 was down indefinitely and there is no sign that the database would be recovered. I didn’t know what to feel. There’s a lot of my exclusive masterpiece being stored in that site that I didn’t backup for soft copies.

Do you know what that means? That means…I lost a lot of my masterpiece dating from 1999-2002. And I can tell you, that is a lot. I was really sad, almost inconsolable, even. I didn’t know to whom I should talk to. How many of you out here would understand how I feel anyway? You folks didn’t know me during the time I was an online author. You folks came to know me as Cleffairy, a blogger, not an author with another pseudonym.You folks… did not know my history, because I re-started my career as an author under another pseudonym.

I didn’t know to whom should I tell that I feel like a huge chunk of my life had disappeared to oblivion with that news… all because of those exclusive works.

And then, something miraculous happened. A friend of 10 years… whom have been following my writing since I started to publish my works online on various site appeared in my gtalk, and told me she kept copies of my work and would forward to me for safekeeping when she heard of the site closure.

She kept soft copies and hard copies. My jaw dropped. I never knew that someone liked my writing to be bothered enough to print it out.

I never considered my old writings worth to be published. They’re immature, and is infested with errors. That is the reason why I didn’t bother to uh… keep soft copies of it before the site was down indefinitely. *sigh* I’m nuts, aren’t I? I don’t miss certain things til they’re gone, and thank God for the little miracle that he showed me.


Cleffairy: Moral of the story: Back up, folks, back up… you’ll never know when your bloody PC will goes berserk on you and you loose years worth of data!

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The purpose of writing…

I couldn’t sleep again. I woke up in the middle of the night after having a sleep paralysis, and I wasn’t too comfortable to go back to bed once again, despite being completely comfortable under the sheets with my one and only.

Writing has always been therapeutic to me, and so here I am, writing…or rather, blogging? This will be a yet another short entry, cuz though I am having loads of plot bunnies in my head and feeling truly inspired to write about many things, my fingers seems to feel a bit rebellious and not really taking order from my brain. I have to admit it. I am tired. But I simply could not rest, as I feel restless and unsettled, but nothing is going to change that in the short period of time, so let’s just leave my sleeping problems and disorder out of the discussion. Let us talk about the purpose of writing instead.

Sometimes, I really wonder if I’ve strayed from the real purpose of setting up this blog? Well, I suppose, at some point, I really did stray, because my true intent of blogging is writing from the heart, just like I did with my novels and short stories.

I want to touch people’s heart and change lives and make a difference, and hoping so much at least one person out there become a better person because of my writing. That is my purpose. My mission.

I wanted to inspire others, share one part of my heart that I would never do with people around me. That is what I want. To touch people’s heart, to reach out, to make people think, and to educate people on certain matters and close the generation as well as the geographical gap.

I don’t know how successful I am at achieving it, but for what it’s worth, I’m glad that I did reach out and made friends with some people through my writing.

I have a small body and small voice. Nobody would notice me if I were to talk in public and express my views, as I don’t look intimidating enough, but most would notice me and know me through my writing because I sounded so fiery and spirited in most of my article, and even emails. I may be small, I may not be loud, but I couldn’t thank God for more for giving me a bigger voice in other form.

I write to reach out to all of you out there. To share my point of view and a part of my heart with you that I couldn’t really share with people around me. I wonder… what is the purpose of you writing your blog? I’ve always wanted to write from my heart and touch people’s heart with my thoughts and my views, that’s why there’s never a picture of me in my blog. I want everyone to ‘see’ me through my writing. Not my pictures.

How about you? What is your purpose of writing?


Cleffairy: If writing short stories and novels and publishing them online is a form of ‘blogging’, I could have been a blogger since 1998.

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Freelancer=Jobless+Not Working?

I daresay that my math teachers would hang themselves out of disappointment and frustrations if they happened to stumble upon my ‘algebra equation’.

Pardon me for the rather queer ‘formula’, but this is the simplest way I could put in words to describe the misconception of the term ‘freelance’ , especially in Malaysia.

I am a freelancer myself. Freelance Editor cum Writer. People often ask me what I do for a living as I am quite flexible in how I manage my time. I could go out anytime I like, do things spontaneously as long as it’s within one or two hour notice and many more.

It irks me to no end when I told people that I am a freelancer and working from home, they would negatively assume that I am not working and all I do day in, day out, is shake my arse at home. Bloody brilliant indeed.

I am not quite sure what is wrong with Malaysian in general, but if you tell them that you are a freelancer, they would automatically assume that you are not working, period, no arguments.

This is absurd! And it most definitely annoys me. I am more than sure that this does not only apply to me, but many other men and women in Malaysia as well. Some people who are SOHO workers are accused of being a lazy bum as well.

Bloody hell, what is wrong with Malaysians in general? As long as you tell people that you’re a freelancer or a SOHO worker, people would either look at you with disdain, and almost disgusted that you are not slaving in the corporate office from 9am-5pm. And then the talk and lecture on ‘you should stop bumming around at home and get a job’ would start.

Malaysian had a rather twisted mind. As long as you are not working in an office, there would be possibility of people accusing you of not working. First, freelancers are associated with lazy bums who are not working and does nothing but wasting away at home or loitering the street during working hours. What’s next, I truly wonder? Teachers are accused of not working too ? Well… teachers do not work in office… why not accuse them of that as well?

Malaysian says the darndest things. I’ve seen many men who are freelancers and doing business of their own accused of not working as well, just because they don’t have an office to go to each day and night. Just take a look at the case below, written in nastily broken English, or rather, Manglish.

Case 1

A man and his wife picks up their kids together in school everyday, and it happened to be during regular working hours. This is what will happened:

Kaypochee Housewives: Eh, how come ah, you both everyday oso pick up your kid together? Both of you not working wan ah?

Husband: I’m a freelancer. So is she.

Kaypochee Housewives: Ohhh, you both are not working ah? So where does your money come from?

Case 2

A man who is doing his business on a small scale picks up his children from school at around 2pm every damn day.

Kaypochee bitch: Eh, how come you everyday oso come and pick up your son/daughter yourself? You’re not working ah?

Man: I’m working for myself. Doing small business.

Kaypochee bitch: But everyday you so free wan worr, can pick up your kids. Nonid to go office wan ah?

Man: I’m working for myself wan ma, working from home. The home is my office.

The bitch started to act smart at this point of the conversation.

Kaypochee bitch: Aiyohhh, you’re a househusband, say early la…I know wan la your kind. Haiyorr, mister, you cannot like this. Why you let your wife work and you stay home to jaga the kids? Men should go out and work wan ma. Get a job, dun just stay home. need me to recommend some job for you bo?

Case 3

A woman who is a freelancer receives a call from her housewives friends. They asked her out for a shopping session when she’s having a project that needs to be submitted soon.

Cao Cibai Bitch: Come, let’s go shopping. Got sale wan worr, very rugi if dun go and grab those stuff! Dun just stay at home and rot nia. Must go out, shopping, chill out, socialize…

Woman: I can’t go out. My workload piling, I have to finish up my work first. The submission date is tomorrow.

Cao Cibai Bitch: Haiyorr, I don’t understand you la. You’re housewife only, why bother la… those work can do later…your husband won’t die wan la if you dun cook one meal for him! Ask him to eat out la! Simple nia!

I think, the above scenarios is rather common in our conservative and narrow minded society.  Most men and women who chose to be a freelancer would at least encounter at least one person who would mistook them for a lazybum who does nothing but rot at home.

Some people really do not understand the concept of freelancing. So, it is time to learn  and brush up some English after reading the awfully rotten conversation in the scenarios above.

Freelance definition:

  • working for yourself

  • work independently and on temporary contracts rather than for a long-term employer

  • freelancer: a writer or artist who sells services to different employers without a long-term contract with any of them

  • mercenary(a): serving for wages in a foreign army; “mercenary killers”

So basically, a freelancer, freelance worker, or freelance is somebody who is self-employed and is not committed to a particular employer  for longterm. The term was first used by the late Sir Walter Scott, the writer of Ivanhoe to describe a “medieval mercenary warrior” or “free-lance”.

Fields where freelancing is common include journalism, journal publishing, and other forms of writing, editing, copyediting, proofreading, indexing, copywriting, computer programming and graphic design, consulting and translating.

Freelance practice varies greatly. Some require clients to sign written contracts, while others may perform work based on verbal agreements, perhaps enforceable through the very nature of the work. Some freelancers may provide written estimates of work and request deposits from clients.

Payment for freelance work also varies greatly. Freelancers may charge by the day, hour, or page or on a per-project basis. Freelancers may earn or may not earn big amount of money, but that is another story.

I’d like to stress it here is that when someone mentioned that they are freelancers, that would mean that they do have a job, and they are not shaking their bloody asses at home, waiting for money to drop from the sky.

Some people chose to be a freelancer for many reason. Flexibility with time is one of it. Some mothers, or even single parents might choose to do freelance work as it would enable them to spend more time and their small children and whatnot, so I’d appreciate it if all of you out there stop accusing freelancers of being lazy bums who knows nothing but rot at home. Freelancing might not be a great career prospect to some, but to most, it is rather rewarding, as when one chooses to be a freelancer, they are completely in control of their time, and they get to spend more time with their family.

Cleffairy: Not sure what certain words mean? Use the dictionary. Speechless? Use the thesaurus.

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When I couldn’t sleep…

It’s been months…months since I had recurring nightmares. It faded for a while, but the peacefulness of the night sleep that I’ve been getting for a week or two did not last, and I keep getting nightmares again, and this explains why I’m awake at 3:53am Malaysian time, sitting in front of the PC, trying to forget the vivid dreams that’s been visiting me. It’s the same old dreams, and though it is not that scary anymore, it still disturbs me greatly.

It seems that the ‘Evil One’ refused to let me have peace, even when I’m asleep. I am not quite sure why I’ve been getting those horrid nightmares over and over again. It seems that ‘someone’ is trying to send me a message and is unhappy when I am at peace with myself and feeling contented.

But God is with me…I have faith that he will protect me from the ‘Evil One’. These days, when I woke up, feeling agitated because of those dreams where my loved ones betrayed me, I prayed, and prayed hard, though it did not help me to sleep, but it helped to calm me and made me see, that those horrid nightmares actually had a theme, which is ‘it’ wants me to give up what I have now instead of persevere.

Well, though the whole world might be against me, He will always be with me, and that will remain unchanged until the end of time. Am I not blessed… to be able to realize His eternal love for me when I am still young? Things could be worst, and I could have ended up like those people who decided to shut Him out of their life.

Ladies and gentlemen, you may not understand my ramblings, but it is all right. I am here not to ramble much. I am here just to share a little something… something for you to ponder on.

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I asked God to take away my bad habits.

God said, No.

It is not for me to take away, but for you to give it up.

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I asked God to make my handicapped child whole.

God said, No. His spirit is whole, his body is only temporary

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I asked God to grant me patience.

God said, No. Patience is a byproduct of tribulations;it isn’t granted, it is learned.

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I asked God to give me happiness.

God said, No. I give you blessings; Happiness is up to you.

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I asked God to spare me pain.

God said, No. Suffering draws you apart from worldly cares and brings you closer to me.

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I asked God to make my spirit grow.

God said, No. You must grow on your own, but I will prune you to make you fruitful.

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I asked God for all things that I might enjoy life.

God said, No. I will give you life, so that you may enjoy all things.

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I finally understood, that when God says no to me each time I asked Him something, it is not because He doesn’t care for me, but it is because he is smarter, and definitely knows better. After all, I am just human, and God works in mysterious ways.

I have learned how to be more at peace with myself, and my journey is still very long. While some pray for my safety and happiness, there are some others who wants me out of the picture, and tries very hard to ruin my happiness. I am completely aware of that, and I want to say here that I know about all of your evil intentions, for you couldn’t be more obvious. It doesn’t matter what you do, I no longer fear you, for God is with me, and I’ll have you know that I have a hurricane in me that will destroy you if you dare to harm what I’ve fought so hard to protect.

One could work with the demons and sell their soul to the devil just because they want others to suffer, but by the end of the day, God will give me justice, and he shall protect me, in his own ways.


Cleffairy: God is my strength, my eternal guiding light. He stands with in the sunshine, and calms me through the stormy nights.

The Lord is my strength,
My eternal guiding light.
He stands with me in the sunshine,
Calms me through the stormy nights.
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When you see a naked man…

I wasn’t in my best of health these few days. Down with fever and flu, sneezing like nobody’s business, and to add cherry on top of the damn ice cream, I suspect my lungs are giving me problems again. But then again…life goes on. Sick as I am, I can’t let it affect me that much, and while I was brainstorming with my noveling group last few night, I started to regret that I didn’t allow my body to take me to bed, and have a nice sleep instead of yakking with a bunch of authors who are ruled by their hormones and libido, because the consequences was rather dire. I couldn’t sleep at all after that, because I had a rather steamy conversation with my group.

It doesn’t help the situation that the usual sane one… which is usually me… was also not quite in her right mind with the temperature raising and all. Instead of brainstorming, we ended up talking about how to construct  sexy scenes which leaves less the the reader’s imagination.

With authors like that… nobody ever needs a dose of Harlequin and Mills Boon Romance ever again.

Remember the times when I wrote about morning erection? It was as a result of my discussion with my noveling group, and this time, it’s much more worst than morning erection. This time…it’s all about naked men. And to think that it all begin with an innocent:

“My new novel has a main character who is an artist, specializing in figure drawing. She’s just hired a new model who just so happens to be someone she had a crush on ages ago. Well she still does have a crush on him so she can’t help checking him out while she’s drawing him. And obviously he’s nude. If you were her what would you be noticing first? Now, she works with a lot of nude models, both male and female, so it’s certainly not her first time seeing a naked body. This is the first time she’s ever been attracted to the model though. So, tell the truth, what would you not so subtly check out if you were her?”

The lame and boring discussion on how to and what to do with your characters suddenly became intense and interesting. I know what this  innocent question is going to lead to, and so I watched the screen with immense interest. Sometimes, these people can really crack you up, no joke.

One of us gave this as an answer:

I’ve studied figure drawing for years. No matter how many naked guys I see, in and out of class, I always always always look at the pener first. Always.

I cracked up, of course, this is a rather typical answer for an author or an artist, no matter how professional they are. I waited longer, and continued to watch the screen…and the words below appeared on my IM:

Is it bad that the first thing I thought was, “That depends on which direction he’s facing” 😉 In general, though, I’d have to say the bottom. If I spend a lot of time thinking about or looking at the male *ahem* equipment, it just starts to look funny to me… but a nice butt is universal 🙂

Another one added in:

His butt. Checking out the full frontal is a little too obvious, and steps over the line of professionalism. Besides, who can resist a cute butt?

By this time, I had to stifle my laughter for the fear of arousing my entire household, and I managed to type these:

I would look for the “V” the v is the area below his abs and above his hips. A really well sculptured man has deep in set lines in this area that create a V. Of course the V is pointing down toward his manhood! I am also going to check it out. If I see a naked man I will check out his package. I want to see if he “manscapes” or not. I will also watch his body move so I can see his muscles moving under his skin. Watching a man’s back or arms flex during natural activity is so hot! For a picture of the “V” I am referring to just google shirtless men.

Out of the sudden, the chatroom became eerily quiet with my answer, and after a while, this comes out on the screen.

“I think our Cleffairy has been kidnapped and been replaced by a horny fairy!”

And I began to wonder, what the hell did I write wrong? It was my honest opinion. The V part on men is sexy, is it not? Now, tell me the truth, ladies, if you were to look at a naked man, what would you notice first? His manhood, his back, his butt or other things?

Look at the picture above, my sisters in crime… isn’t the V-line sexy? I think it’s sexier than the penis itself even. I mean… men’s penises would just look weird if it’s not aroused… it’s just…a dangling little thing, but the V-line? It’s just hot!

Cleffairy: Sexy is back!

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I’m not so sweet anymore…

I changed so much over the years since I finished high school. I dare to bet that my high school friends can tell me to my face that they do not know me anymore. From a sweet, forgiving, naive girl who can easily tolerate anyone around her, I become a witch who is ill tempered and have distrust on everyone who crossed my path. It takes so little to anger me. It takes so less to displease and to hold grudges against others. Resentments bottles up, and I doubt anyone can do anything about it to make it go away.

Those changes are not good, I know, but I can’t help it. My environment shaped me into what I am today. And I can’t honestly say that my environment after I left home is all good and positive. My parents sheltered me. I used to have a perfect happy family. I was a daughter. An apple to my parents’ eyes.

But I learn that not everyone have good parents like mine who protects me from the dangers outside, and eventually, I discovered that I’m stuck with people whose background is not as good as mine, and if I want to stick around with them, I’ll have to change to adapt. I did not want to change. But then again, I have to. To survive.

Fiend and friends alike analyzed me. Both parties said the same thing. Both agrees that I became a bitter person because I have been hurt. A year ago, if one told me that, I would adamantly deny their allegations. But today, as much as I refuse to admit that I have been somehow hurt in some ways, I have too, because I am not that happy with myself, with what I am today. This is not what I envisioned myself to be 10 years ago.

10 years ago, I was full of dreams and hope, but today, nothing seems to go right. I am not what I had hoped myself to be when I was younger. It never crossed my mind that I will be a failure in many ways. Yes, that is what I am. A failure. A big one at that. I have disappoint my younger self. And nothing can change that, unless I start to put myself first before others. And start to love myself first before I love others. The fire made me see that. Somehow, I am glad it happened as it seems to burn away things so that I could see clearer.

I know I’m fooling around with my own doom when I give up my own hopes and dreams in order to help others achieve theirs. But then again, why am I still doing it? Because I have to? Because I have no choice? Because I am forced to do so? No. It’s because somehow, a part of that innocent, selfless girl who used to be me still haven’t completely die. She’s still there, somewhere, waiting to emerge once again, but have been successfully suppressed by her environment.

This will be a weird entry, but I need to do this in order to understand myself again, because sometimes, when I woke up in the morning or looked into the mirror, I don’t feel like I know who I am anymore. I changed too much.

What can I do to be that sweet girl again? I don’t have any answer for that. I feel that I’ve changed too much and it is too late for me to turn back. But perhaps, being happy is a good start. And loving myself first before loving others would make me feel more at ease with myself and stop myself from holding grudges with other people. I don’t know what I should do to make me feel more confident and comfortable with myself, cuz it’s been destroyed for so long.

I can only say one thing to all of you though, before you become like me, turning into someone you cannot even recognize in the mirror; Love yourself first before you love others. Do something to make yourself happy, because unhappiness can destroy so many things. And instead of following what other people tell you to do because they thought it is right for you, follow your heart and your instinct. That, my blogger friends, could at least preserve the good part of you and prevent yourself from turning into such an ill-tempered witch like me.

Cleffairy: If I love myself a little bit more, it does not mean I love you less.

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I’m not so sweet anymore…

I changed so much over the years since I finished high school. I dare to bet that my high school friends can tell me to my face that they do not know me anymore. From a sweet, forgiving, naive girl who can easily tolerate anyone around her, I become a witch who is ill tempered and have distrust on everyone who crossed my path. It takes so little to anger me. It takes so less to displease and to hold grudges against others. Resentments bottles up, and I doubt anyone can do anything about it to make it go away.

Those changes are not good, I know, but I can’t help it. My environment shaped me into what I am today. And I can’t honestly say that my environment after I left home is all good and positive. My parents sheltered me. I used to have a perfect happy family. I was a daughter. An apple to my parents’ eyes.

But I learn that not everyone have good parents like mine who protects me from the dangers outside, and eventually, I discovered that I’m stuck with people whose background is not as good as mine, and if I want to stick around with them, I’ll have to change to adapt. I did not want to change. But then again, I have to. To survive.

Fiend and friends alike analyzed me. Both parties said the same thing. Both agrees that I became a bitter person because I have been hurt. A year ago, if one told me that, I would adamantly deny their allegations. But today, as much as I refuse to admit that I have been somehow hurt in some ways, I have too, because I am not that happy with myself, with what I am today. This is not what I envisioned myself to be 10 years ago.

10 years ago, I was full of dreams and hope, but today, nothing seems to go right. I am not what I had hoped myself to be when I was younger. It never crossed my mind that I will be a failure in many ways. Yes, that is what I am. A failure. A big one at that. I have disappoint my younger self. And nothing can change that, unless I start to put myself first before others. And start to love myself first before I love others. The fire made me see that. Somehow, I am glad it happened as it seems to burn away things so that I could see clearer.

I know I’m fooling around with my own doom when I give up my own hopes and dreams in order to help others achieve theirs. But then again, why am I still doing it? Because I have to? Because I have no choice? Because I am forced to do so? No. It’s because somehow, a part of that innocent, selfless girl who used to be me still haven’t completely die. She’s still there, somewhere, waiting to emerge once again, but have been successfully suppressed by her environment.

This will be a weird entry, but I need to do this in order to understand myself again, because sometimes, when I woke up in the morning or looked into the mirror, I don’t feel like I know who I am anymore. I changed too much.

What can I do to be that sweet girl again? I don’t have any answer for that. I feel that I’ve changed too much and it is too late for me to turn back. But perhaps, being happy is a good start. And loving myself first before loving others would make me feel more at ease with myself and stop myself from holding grudges with other people. I don’t know what I should do to make me feel more confident and comfortable with myself, cuz it’s been destroyed for so long.

I can only say one thing to all of you though, before you become like me, turning into someone you cannot even recognize in the mirror; Love yourself first before you love others. Do something to make yourself happy, because unhappiness can destroy so many things. And instead of following what other people tell you to do because they thought it is right for you, follow your heart and your instinct. That, my blogger friends, could at least preserve the good part of you and prevent yourself from turning into such an ill-tempered witch like me.

Cleffairy: If I love myself a little bit more, it does not mean I love you less.

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I'm not so sweet anymore…

I changed so much over the years since I finished high school. I dare to bet that my high school friends can tell me to my face that they do not know me anymore. From a sweet, forgiving, naive girl who can easily tolerate anyone around her, I become a witch who is ill tempered and have distrust on everyone who crossed my path. It takes so little to anger me. It takes so less to displease and to hold grudges against others. Resentments bottles up, and I doubt anyone can do anything about it to make it go away.

Those changes are not good, I know, but I can’t help it. My environment shaped me into what I am today. And I can’t honestly say that my environment after I left home is all good and positive. My parents sheltered me. I used to have a perfect happy family. I was a daughter. An apple to my parents’ eyes.

But I learn that not everyone have good parents like mine who protects me from the dangers outside, and eventually, I discovered that I’m stuck with people whose background is not as good as mine, and if I want to stick around with them, I’ll have to change to adapt. I did not want to change. But then again, I have to. To survive.

Fiend and friends alike analyzed me. Both parties said the same thing. Both agrees that I became a bitter person because I have been hurt. A year ago, if one told me that, I would adamantly deny their allegations. But today, as much as I refuse to admit that I have been somehow hurt in some ways, I have too, because I am not that happy with myself, with what I am today. This is not what I envisioned myself to be 10 years ago.

10 years ago, I was full of dreams and hope, but today, nothing seems to go right. I am not what I had hoped myself to be when I was younger. It never crossed my mind that I will be a failure in many ways. Yes, that is what I am. A failure. A big one at that. I have disappoint my younger self. And nothing can change that, unless I start to put myself first before others. And start to love myself first before I love others. The fire made me see that. Somehow, I am glad it happened as it seems to burn away things so that I could see clearer.

I know I’m fooling around with my own doom when I give up my own hopes and dreams in order to help others achieve theirs. But then again, why am I still doing it? Because I have to? Because I have no choice? Because I am forced to do so? No. It’s because somehow, a part of that innocent, selfless girl who used to be me still haven’t completely die. She’s still there, somewhere, waiting to emerge once again, but have been successfully suppressed by her environment.

This will be a weird entry, but I need to do this in order to understand myself again, because sometimes, when I woke up in the morning or looked into the mirror, I don’t feel like I know who I am anymore. I changed too much.

What can I do to be that sweet girl again? I don’t have any answer for that. I feel that I’ve changed too much and it is too late for me to turn back. But perhaps, being happy is a good start. And loving myself first before loving others would make me feel more at ease with myself and stop myself from holding grudges with other people. I don’t know what I should do to make me feel more confident and comfortable with myself, cuz it’s been destroyed for so long.

I can only say one thing to all of you though, before you become like me, turning into someone you cannot even recognize in the mirror; Love yourself first before you love others. Do something to make yourself happy, because unhappiness can destroy so many things. And instead of following what other people tell you to do because they thought it is right for you, follow your heart and your instinct. That, my blogger friends, could at least preserve the good part of you and prevent yourself from turning into such an ill-tempered witch like me.

Cleffairy: If I love myself a little bit more, it does not mean I love you less.

Continue Reading