50 Weeks.


I’ve realised that this blog has somewhat been left unattended for quite a while. This year, I plan on completely starting over, and post something once every week.

Which brings me to the point of interest! Starting today, I will be updating my new blog, 50 ¬†Weeks¬†every week. I’ll be posting stories, art, photos, and music compositions there. Hopefully, I’ll be able to keep it up for the year.

I won’t be posting here anymore, but I’ll leave it open for whoever stumbles across my old work.

Happy 2017, everybody!


Spring (Seasons #1)


The landscapes awake in a colorful burst as the cold drifts away and releases the earth.

One by one, the first flowers bloom, drenching the fields with an ocean of hues; green, yellow, red, violet and blue.

Joining the chorus are butterflies and bees, in a frenzy of flutters and hums through the trees.

The silken white fur of a hare morphs to brown; while the traveller’s coat follows too with the ground.

The atmosphere fills with the tales of far places, signalling the return of familiar faces.

We feel life as the drops of light that it births; from the ground to the skies through the trees on the Earth.


Dear Love,

I’ve always wanted to tell you this, but I never have been able to find the right words to say so.

Everyday I’d wait for you to wake up at dawn, and watch in awe as the first rays of sunlight illuminate your beautiful face. On some mornings, I’d sing along with the songbirds, hoping desperately that one day, you’d hear my voice. Even though you never spoke a word to me, I’d listen intently as you whisper silent hymns across the valleys, and I’d smile every second I hear your voice.

On some tired evenings, when you feel dark and gloomy, I’d always hold you close to my heart, hoping that perhaps soon the clouds would part and you’d show that beautiful glow once again. I’d let myself drown in your tears, just to let you know: I’ll always be here. All I’d need to brighten up my day is the thought of you smiling, and from the rustle of leaves and gentle yet steady breath of the ocean, I’d know you are contented.

Whenever I dig myself into despair, I know you’d always be there to pull me back up, no matter the weather. You’d keep me warm when I am shivering, yet still let the gentle breeze waft across my aging skin. I remember every single second I’d spend with you, from our darkest days to the brightest, all whispers from years long past.

Every night I’d watch our star dip below the horizon, and leaving you in the dark. Even then, you’d still be beautiful, as a million galaxies illuminate your eyes. I’d lean my body on yours as you drift off into the blanket of the night, hoping to be engulfed by nothing but sweet dreams. Not even the chilliest of frigid winds could keep us apart, because I know in the end, you’d keep me warm.

You are part of me, as much as I am a part of you. I’d never be able to know if you’ve ever heard my voice or requite my love, but all that you have is enough.

I love you, my home, my world.


I’m Not Dead

Hello. I’ve finally got my lazy arse to write something after a long (and unforeseen) hiatus.

A lot of things have happened since I last typed these keys. I’ve fallen in love with photography and music (see: http://www.instagram.com/quillstation ), and am currently dabbling in said hobbies. Long nights of experimenting with GarageBand have become a regular part of my life, as well as carrying a Nikon D3100 slung around my shoulder, ready for photographs at any moment.

Of course, writing is still a part of me, it’s just that it has to share space in my mind with other forms of art.

Now, the catch. I’m not sure how frequently I’ll be updating this blog, since school’s practically swallowed up most of the free time I have left. I’m thinking of perhaps considering Tumblr as an alternate platform for photography, music and of course writing, though I’ve no experience whatsoever on it.

For now I’ll try to post something at least once per two weeks, or whenever I have a burst of inspiration. In the meantime, check out my instagram accounts to keep yourself company.




A tsunami of questions flooded your head,

As you lay tossing and turning in your bed,

“What have I done?” You asked yourself,

“It’s not like another pill would affect my health.”

So here we are now on the building tops,

Drenched in icy grey raindrops,

Staring at all the city lights ’till we are going blind.

You say you wish you had a rope,

Or telescope to give you some sort of hope,

Or helmet to hold the shattered remains of what used to be your mind.

And then the bitter realization sinks in,

“Of all the people I could’ve been, why have I become someone who carves myself and cries?”

Soon all the helmets will detach,

As they see your spinal chord collapse,

The tsunami breaks out of your eyes,

Forever staring and wondering,




We stare at the starways as they flicker out,
When our hope succumbs to life’s bitter fist,
We pray for bluer skies and whiter clouds,
And take a leap of faith across the abyss.

The predators and scavengers may call us cowards,
They’d laugh and leer at our fear of the unknown,
Because though we dream of lands of distant shores,
We’ve never strayed too far from our home.

So you gaze at the peaks that lie ahead,
And hills blanketed with fields of grass and rye,
As you watch a spark of hope take flight,
Painting colours across a sullen sky.

When our searching ends and we drop anchor,
You’d look back at the foreign lands we’d been,
Before eyeing over the azure horizon,
To those brighter worlds we’ve never seen.

And so our stories lived on through a thousand lives,
Be it by quill and ink or yarn and tale,
The future awaits in those new atmospheres,
Of journeys that time will one day avail.