2018/2019 Concert Wishlist

I was comparing my Concert Wishlists from 2011 and 2013, and I realized that I went to soooo many concerts in 2013 and 2014! What a blessing.

There're some bands that I won't ever get sick of seeing; they're just perpetually on the list. And sigh, there are some who will never come. Almost bucket list status, man. When I finally save up enough to go to the States for a holiday, will they even still be a band, much less touring?

Bands I want to see again (in no particular order):

1. Taking Back Sunday (I'm seeing them in 2019!!!!!!)
2. The Red Jumpsuit Apparatus (just for nostalgia's sake)
3. Saosin (Anthony Green rejoined!!)
4. Foo Fighters (though they just came in 2017 but I don't mind seeing them again for sure)
5. Sodagreen (on hiatus)
6. Mayday (will never tire of them but please no more for the next couple years)

Bands I've never seen and want to see (in no particular order):

1. The Reign of Kindo
2. Florence + The Machine
3. Shinedown
4. Relient K
5. There For Tomorrow/AFTRHR (recently realized that they renamed themselves + only left with 2 members)
6. 5566 (POSSIBLE!!!!)

This year is shaping up to be a pretty eventful one. I've just booked plane tickets on my own for the first time in my life (I've only been on a plane twice, with family both times). And it's with 2 colleagues that I've only known for two months plus! Going to Krabi in August without taking leave feels awesome, y'all.

I haven't told my dad yet though. Oops.

Here's a list of upcoming events that I'm going for this year:

Hillsong United No Other Name Tour, April 12
Planetshakers, July 31
Kodaline, August 13

Yong Hwa is coming as well, but his tickets are too expensive and frankly I prefer CNBLUE even though I looove Yong Hwa.

I'm quite certain Sodagreen will be coming again, and not to mention other bands. I just missed Incubus on March 9, but here's to hoping they'll be back soon and that I won't be broke like this time.

Looking back on my previous Concert wishlist, I realized that indeed many have been fulfilled. Taking Back Sunday, Incubus (although I didn't go), Sodagreen, Mayday Parade (didn't go either). Bastille, who is on my newer mental wishlist, came and went as well. Then I found out today that There For Tomorrow had disbanded. Sigh. I pray that they will get back together in the future and be better than ever and come to Singapore already.

Being at this job requires me to do a lot of research and reading, especially reading about positive mindsets and health information.

I've just read something on an e-book called The Millionaire's Brain, and it rang so true that I had to write it here, just for reference's sake.

It states that in order to rewire your brain to rid it of negative associations whenever money is mentioned, you need to tell yourself that you are "abundant in wealth." With every dollar you spend, more will come back to you.

The reason why this statement spoke to me was because I've recently been feeling that every time I thought about my finances. Ever since being shown the truth of God, I've learnt that He will provide for me no matter what. So I've stopped worrying about having less than a certain amount in my bank account like I always used to.

If you've known me since years ago, you would know that I used to always complain about my money troubles, wondering if I could make it till the end of the month with my measly pay and mega bills and responsibilities. And yet I still couldn't stop spending, so my bank balance depleted drastically just two weeks into a new month every time.

Now I've begun to let go of my financial situation and leaving it up to God. It doesn't matter if you're a free-thinker or if you have a different belief system; the core value is the same. Just let go of your worries. Sure, you can scrimp a little here and there, maybe not drink Starbucks every week and cut down on that post-lunch yogurt. But don't beat yourself up over every little thing you spend on, stop focusing on your diminishing bank balance.

I'm not saying to just squander all your money away without regard to your bank account, of course. What I mean is to feel okay about spending on necessary stuff. A movie once in a while won't really hurt that much, but weekly visits to cafes are probably not the best idea until you achieve financial stability.

And instead of thinking about that low balance in your account, focus on the multiple blessings in your life currently. Awesome friends, a sweet family, that charming auntie from the chicken rice stall, or even the nice stranger who held the lift door for you. Heck, you're alive, you have a roof over your head, Internet connection, able limbs and your five major senses. Shouldn't that be good enough to put a smile on your face? Money is nothing compared.

This doesn't mean that I'm perfectly worry-free financially, of course. I do acknowledge that my bank balance isn't where I want it to be just yet, but I also know that it will all be replenished eventually (at the end of the month). Why worry?

Even if you don't have an income right now, that's no cause for worry. It should scare you, but you shouldn't let that fear turn you into a worrisome, negative person. Be positive, and trust that it will all come to you soon enough. Positivity attracts more positivity!

Amazeballs

Do you ever get that feeling like, "OMG he likes [insert forgotten old movie/weird food flavor/obscure band] too? We're perfect for each other!!"

I get that every once in a while because a) I am easily excitable; b) I like a lot of things in general.

Sometimes I feel pangs of wistfulness as I scroll through news feeds on social media platforms, and realize that I share certain shockingly specific interests with some people. The wistful part is that we aren't closer friends but just casual acquaintances. We could be so much more!!!!

The similarities are so mind-blowingly coincidental that I can't help but proclaim us soulmates/BFFs in my head. But of course, life doesn't really work that way even though I try really hard to make it so.

I guess it goes to show how mysteriously God works. Because why Lord, why?

It's not to contradict my previous post about being content with where I am and not being in a relationship - I'm serious about that for sure. But I just can't resist wondering why these people aren't the one I'm waiting for.

Perhaps it's all about timing, perhaps it just isn't. Whatever it is, I've put my faith in Him and am learning not to worry. It's just jarring to know that we are still nothing more than casual hi-bye friends despite these coincidences. Amazing, maybe.

Life is just full of surprises. (God, too.)

Thankful

It's hilarious sometimes when I read through my older posts and realize the massive change of content. Just a few months back I'd been fawning over some guy; a few weeks before that I'd been infatuated with another one; for the past few years there's always been some guy or other.

But after finding God, there's been no rush. No more desperately hoping for some guy to sweep me off my feet.

The contrast of my mindsets then and now is pretty jarring. I mean, I still want someone to love and to hold till death do us part, but I don't need it right now. Right now I get to experience my walk with my Father on my own, and to improve myself as a person before I commit myself to a relationship. I have faith that there's someone planned for me, and that I will meet him when the time is right. Or maybe I've already met him. We'll never know till we know.

Meanwhile I'm just trying to figure out my place in this vast world just like everybody else. Career paths to embark on, friendships to forge, family members to love, music to discover, concerts to attend, books to read, films and shows to digest, cafes to hop; the list is endless. What's a girl to do except to do it all and enjoy the ride?

Now I'm just grateful for all the friends and family that add color to my everyday life.

Just as I'm ending this post at 6am on the first day of 2015, I hear my dad closing the noisy gate of our house. I throw my phone on the bed, rush out of my room and fling open the wooden door to see my dad.

He gets a shock at my sudden appearance in the wee hours of the morning, but as I say, "Happy new year, Pa," you can see a hint of a smile on his weary face.

Greeting my dad at the door as he leaves for another day at work, then going back to my room to finish up a blog post and submitting myself to a good morning's sleep (and probably afternoon). What is this, if not the best way to end a countdown to a new year?

Goodnight, good morning, and happy new year.

Whenever people first find out that my mom is no longer with me, their reaction is usually one of sympathy, or even empathy. It used to be a sort of consolation for me, like "Oh, woe is me, feel for me, I am a fragile broken thing." I used to cry when people offered me piteous looks and comforting words.

But now I know that it has happened for a reason, and that everyone's presence in my life is for one reason only: it is in His plan. So I no longer feel sadness engulf me when I tell people that my mom has passed. As they hug me, comfort me, encourage me, all I feel now is the unwavering love from my Father, and everyone's concern for me as a sister in this community.

It's a wonderful feeling.

"'Cause I'm on the up and up
And I haven't given up
On what I know I'm capable of
Yeah there's nothing left to prove
'Cause I'm just trying to be a better version of me for you

You never cease to supply me
With what I need for a good life
So when I'm down I'll hold my head up high
'Cause you're the reason why
You're why I'm on the up and up."

---Relient K, "Up And Up"

I'd rather forget and not slow down...

...than gather regret for the things I can't change now.

The above is a lyric by Relient K and I can't express how much their music has spoken to me since years ago.

And it speaks to me more than ever now, as the words wash over my senses and bring a feeling of peace to my once-troubled mind.

Lately I've made a life-changing decision, and it feels like the best thing that ever happened to me since my mom left me here alone in this vast world. I have my family and friends, of course, but to me, a mother's love can never be replicated.

Hence, I haven't been able to feel happy from within since February. On the surface level I can be pretty lame and loud as usual, and I do feel great when I'm hanging out with friends or just eating dinner with my cousins, but I know that once I'm at home in my room, I'd feel alone again.

It's all different now.

Instead of despairing that no one else will love me the way my mother did, I feel hope.
I feel hope in life, in love, in laughter.
Instead of pining over wasted days with my mom, I feel calm.
I feel calm because I know she is in a better place now, and I accept that.
Instead of getting mad at my dad for being him, I feel forgiveness.
I forgive him because he is just as lost as I was.

Revisiting old Red Jumpsuit Apparatus and Relient K songs makes me realize how much they've influenced my way of thinking all this time. I don't know how different (or not different) my life would be without them, but I thank God for their existence. It'd be cool if you want to give them a listen, to see if you can understand why I can't stop raving about them, but I'm gonna stop pushing them to you because they deserve a sincerely eager audience.

Hit me up for song recommendations if you dare! (I have way too many.)

Searching

Recently I've come to the conclusion that ever since my mom passed, I'd been lost. I had been searching for something to hold on to. It felt like I was bobbing around in the vast ocean, trying my hardest not to sink.

I discovered that I was broken. Something inside me had been smashed, and I was afraid to admit it. Along with that came the realization that my mom had probably been broken too. She broke when her mom passed. She'd been holding her mom's death against one of my family members for years and she never got over it. I don't want that. I don't want to be broken forever.

Right now it just feels like there is no one left in this massive, busy world to love me unconditionally like my mom did. Not even my father. She meant the world to me, and when she left this world, my world left too.

But I'm getting better, I swear. I've always felt like I belonged in this community. In a way I've believed in Him like I've believed in Allah. I believe all of them exist, to the people that believe in them. I'm not sure if that makes me unqualified to become a Chrisrian, but I am adamant that everyone has the right to put their faith in whomever/whatever they choose.

Lately I've started praying. Just to see if anything happens. And I don't know for sure if it's His work (only time will tell), but I asked for a miracle, and tonight he gave me a glimpse of it. More like a preview, really. If it does work out in the end, I'll know that my prayers worked. And for now, I have the strangest feeling that it will. The future doesn't frighten me as much as it did the past few weeks anymore.

I remember feeling a palpable fear of the next morning, every day. August had been both good and bad for me. It gave me the rest I'd needed, but failed to provide a clear view of my future. It was murky and the light that shone through the fog flickered when it should have been steady.

So now I've reached the wavering light, and it's given me a sense of purpose for the near future. But after a month or so, it's gonna waver like never before, and I'd need a lifeboat to take me to my next destination before the light goes completely dark.

I caught a glimpse of that lifeboat tonight, and I pray that it will lead me to where I need to be.

(Too many metaphors going on in this post, I know. I can explain them; just drop me a text!)

Church?

I finally attended my primary school friend Shu Ling's church service today, after so many months of unforeseen circumstances/cancellations. Seeing as I've attended quite a few of my bestie Sophia's church services before, the FCBC's service was nothing short of what I'd expected. One thing that did surprise me though, was how professional their live music sounded. More than once, I felt the familiar urge of wanting to put my hands up in a fit of musical epiphany. Those drums.

The company was superb as well, with many people greeting me earnestly and even praying for me (frankly I don't think I deserve all that much prayers)! (But yeah yeah "we accept the love we think we deserve" and all that jazz, so.)

Sometimes I get nauseated when I think about meeting new people and potential awkward situations, and end up losing sleep over imagined social disasters. Hardly anyone knows I get this way at all. But surprisingly (or not), when the occasion does arrive, I tend to make an okay impression on the new people I meet. Or at least, I hope I do. Because there are just so many things to consider when encountering new people!

My thought process beforehand usually goes like this:
1. How often can I laugh?
2. How loud can I laugh?
3. Should I try to make people laugh?
4. Do I tell them I have a small bladder?
5. If they don't laugh at my jokes, do I laugh at them myself?

What then happens:
1. Laugh way too loudly
2. Wonder if that was too loud
3. Decide not to care
4. Laugh again at something else and get shushed
5. Feel chastised
6. Repeat step 1

I've been told that I have an infectious/annoyingly loud/just plain annoying laugh, but at Sodagreen's concert, there were plenty of maniacal fans with crazier laughs than mine. So there. (So...I'm feeling a little unspecial now, so if you're hanging out with me in the very near future after this post, you should bring along a pair of earmuffs.)

For an unquantifiable amount of times, I have curbed the urge to think about her. Something would remind me of her, and I'd tell myself to think about other things: C'mon Cheryl, don't throw yet another pity party for your sorry self.

But there are also times when I let my mind loose and run rampant for no reason. No reason other than that I need to let loose. It's constricting to be inside my own mind, because I have too many voices in there telling me to suck it up. And the ones persuading me to indulge are just too meek to be taken seriously.

On nights (or mornings, seeing as it's past 3 now) like these, where I have no plans with friends, where I stay home and try to occupy my mind with endless films and television, I need to exhaust my brain to its fullest. Otherwise it'd be like what is happening right now: my mind wanders and I wonder what my future's gonna be. How stagnant I am. What makes me happy? Honestly, I have no idea. I used to think that having an insane amount of money would make me happy.

But what's money to me now, when the person I would want to splurge most of it on (besides myself, of course) is irrefutably gone?

My aunt and uncle were helping me clear the kitchen of its decades of junk today. And gosh was my mom a hoarder or what? We uncovered sooo many pots without lids and lids without pots. And I'll admit it now, it hit me hard when my aunt held up that heavy glass pot that my mom used to love cooking with. At least, before the days when she got too sick to do any cooking at all.

Now that pot is looking at early retirement, sadly.

Job or Career?

The decision has been made since eons ago. Maybe last year, perhaps. I never did plan to stay at this job for long, and two years have definitely been long enough.

I could say that the Most Annoying Person Ever (MAPE) was why I'm leaving, but it wouldn't be the absolute truth. He's a big factor in my leaving NOW, because if it hadn't been for him, I'd probably stay for a while longer. But the truth is that this isn't what I picture myself doing for years to come.

I know what I am not. I'm not cut out for administrative work. Even though I do love photocopying and emailing and printing stuff, I can't stare at a computer screen for hours and not get distracted by the Chrome icon. Which is why I'm writing this post now during work hours.

I don't know what I am just yet. Who else knows what they want to do with the rest of their life at age 22? (Maybe Taylor Swift.) I'm at a total loss. Sales seem to be a good calling now for me, but I have gotten so used to office hours and having my weekends free that I cringe when I think about shifts and off days and longer hours every day. Just trying to come up with an alternative to adminstrative jobs makes me groan with hopelessness. "I should just stay here until I've saved enough to quit for real."

Frankly, I don't deserve this job. They deserve someone better, someone more passionate about selling automobile parts and diligent in his/her inventory work. I just don't give enough of a damn. Also, I've been taking advantage of my relation to the boss (I'm his niece) by showing up ridiculously late every single day. He'd have fired me long ago if he had any less respect for my late mom.

So, to put it the considerate, Cheryl-is-an-angel way, I'm doing this company a favor by leaving. They can't get someone new who actually wants this job unless I'm gone, and they can't fire me. I'll be the bigger person here and let myself go.

To put it the other way, I'm leaving them in the lurch because I can't stand the thought of another endless month with MAPE. And the idea of my being bound to a dead-end desk job in which I have no interest whatsoever.

I'd rather be at a dead-end desk job under a company that does things I actually care about.

Okay, I'll do it by the end of July.

*Googles resignation letter templates*

Privacy

The bad thing about having a public profile on all my social networking platforms is that I have no outlet to express my melancholy without coming off as a self-absorbed person. Which I know I am.

I can't even tweet my feelings without chiding myself. Sometimes I'd just like to give myself a break, but that seems self-indulgent.

Why do I do things that I know will piss my friends off? I almost always do this. I piss them off both intentionally and unintentionally at the same time, if that makes any sense. Then I apologize profusely and get affronted if they don't forgive me right away. It's a horrible, eccentric cycle.

I don't want to do things for my birthday anymore. It makes me feel guilty and even more self-obsessed than I usually am.

I just want to lay my head down on my out-of-shape pillow and rest my mind for a while. What a sucky Saturday morning so far.

I'm being overly sensitive yet again but I can't help but see hidden meanings behind every word. You despise my guts, I detest your sense of entitlement. What can we do besides clench our teeth and smile for the sake of the others?

Florence + The Machine describes my mood now with perfect accuracy.

49 days have passed, and I'm finally not tearing up whenever I think a tad too long about my mother.

People say that she's supposed to come back for a visit on the 49th day but so far all I've had is a series of weird dreams involving me being a dude running down hills like I'm a cartoon racer in some game; me being a fish; me meeting a handsome Hong Kong actor.

I don't know why but lately I have been developing a crush on daisies. White, pink, yellow, orange, blue, red, whatever color there is, I love them. It's becoming a serious contender with the sunflower for my favorite flower.

Not sure why I haven't asked anyone yet, but is it all right to buy fresh flowers for my mom's altar? She would love some orchids in a pretty vase, I think.

Soon I'll be able to blog without talking about her.

Naps

They used to be one of my favorite pastimes, even though I couldn't have them often enough. Lately it's just been so hectic because every weekend that I get, I make plans with friends or family so that I don't have to be alone for too long in that empty house.

The truth is, I've been craving for a nap. But on Saturdays I have to do the laundry and maybe tell myself that I'm going to mop the floors, and after that I'd be meeting someone or another to hang out. By the end of the night I'm so exhausted that I can barely sleep, if that makes any sense.

The last time I woke up from a nap was to something horrible and unfathomable to me. Now the thought of taking a nap on a quiet Saturday after work sort of terrifies me, although I know my dad would still be there in the living room watching TV, just like he had been on that day. Sometimes my mind wanders into the past, to that fateful day (finally this phrase is being used after all the compositions in school). I still remember everything clearly. I can't erase it.

My room had been dark. It had been approximately 8pm. I was supposed to be meeting Anzhu to visit her dad in Tan Tock Seng hospital later around 9. Ha, life was so ironic - it made me travel in an ambulance with my dying mother to the same hospital before 9. (This may be hard for you to read because I'm being cynical and dark-humored about my mom's dying day but this mood is hard to shake out of when I'm stuck at work staring at a computer screen.)

Heck, I was supposed to go to a club with the rest of my friends after the hospital visit with Anzhu. Clubbing, on the day that my mother died. Fine, Mom, you made your point; you don't have to die to stop me from going clubbing, you dramatic fool. I wouldn't have gone if you had been heaving at home. But instead you pretended you were fine and went to have a ball with your friends downstairs at the community banquet. Well, when the ball started rolling, you dropped it.

I guess I am still mad at you for not letting me be there for your last breath. You must have felt so lost. Why didn't you wait until Dad or I got there? The thought of you dying without your closest kin by your side just kills me. This wasn't how I imagined it.

For years, since I was a kid, I'd thought about you dying. Because you had depression and kept talking about how you were going to die all the time. In primary school, I couldn't imagine myself getting into secondary school because I didn't know if you'd still be there. After secondary school, I kept thinking that you wouldn't be there to see me get into school because I'd waited too long. And then you went into the hospital after an episode and the new meds made you much better. So I began to hope. And I began to relax. Perhaps you could see me graduate. Fall in love. Fall out of love. Get married. Have a career. Have grandchildren for you. I started thinking about your 60th birthday celebration. I talked about getting my driver's license and driving you and Dad around Singapore. I could bring you to the temples where you could pray and be happy.

Well, I guess you're happy now. You better be, because all of us are miserable down here missing you. I am not going through all this melancholy crying bullshit just so you can feel mediocre up there. You have to be happy, Ma. Because that's the only way I can live with myself now.

The pangs hit the hardest at night, when nobody I know is awake to read my depressing tweets. Sure, they'll see them in the morning or afternoon, and perhaps I'll get a few kind words and some virtual hugs, but right now, I have nothing.

I'm not blaming anyone for the lack of response, that's for certain. I mean, there's a reason I do this at night. It means I don't want to feel better. I want to sink down this spiraling pool of water until I gasp for air and learn to appreciate life as it is again.

***
As of today, it's been five weeks since her being gone. 35 days. More than a month. It feels like it was yesterday. It feels like it was five years ago. Sometimes it feels like it didn't happen. And that hurts, because I know it did. Her amount of clothes is endless; every other week I have to pick some out to burn with the paper money and paper ingots and paper whatever and it kills me a little inside each time. To touch the clothes that she used to wear. The ones that she hated, the ones that she loved, the ones she felt neutral towards. And the ones she never got to wear. Oh man, that pile is substantial. It's like she bought clothes for every day of Chinese New Year. Her favorite time of year. And she didn't even get to enjoy the entire period because she had to die.

I am getting myself mad right now. I see what I'm typing, I know what I'm feeling: I'm feeling angry at my mother for deserting me to fend for myself against my dad when he borrows money again, for leaving me no choice but to step up and do housework like I should have started years ago, for having no one to come home and babble about my day to, for making me miss her yammering about her daily gossip with the aunties downstairs, for just being gone.

She's in a better place now, I know. I hope she's happy. But part of me finds that impossible, because I made her happy. That sounds narcissistic, I am well aware, but I know she lived for me. She was a noble, foolish woman who made her life around her daughter and took her advice sometimes, rejected it other times, and stood by her husband even while tearing him apart verbally for the things he did. I miss her so damned much. What I would give to hear her voice again and feel her touch.

Ma, don't come back. Go to wherever you are supposed to be, and be at peace. You're free now. If you hear me cry out for you, don't look back. I love you.

Call me an exhibitionist (I'm probably abusing the word) or...

...call me an extrovert or call me a person who can't shut up. Like the title of this blog, I am an open book even to those who don't like to read. I tend to spill information about myself wherever I go. If you ask, I will tell.

So it makes sense that when I'm grieving alone, I write blog posts, tweet, or update Facebook statuses about my being sad. It's like I can't rest until the entire world knows that I'm unhappy.

But on the other hand, I always want the world to know when I'm ecstatic, too. Let's just agree that I must simply let everyone know what I'm feeling all the time.

I guess it's sort therapeutic for me. When I'm happy, I want to share my joy and when others echo my mirth, I get even happier. It's a little different when I'm sad though; I don't get sadder when other people feel sad for me. When I'm feeling down, I post things, hoping that someone, anyone, will see it and offer me solace, whether it be a text or a phone call or just a simple 'like' on Facebook. It makes me feel less alone. It means at least one person in the world has seen how I feel and that means I'm not the only person inhabiting this vast world.

Therefore, please pardon me when I ramble on sometimes about all the emotions that course through my brain. It's only just so I can peel off emotion by emotion until there's only one or two underlying ones that aren't as strong. Every sentence helps calm my nerves down, so on and on I will write, until this nose stops running and my heart rate slows to its normal speed.

Then, I can have a good night's sleep.

Cory Doctorow hit it on the head

"Shall I tell Cora you called?"

I was about to thank her and ring off, but I stopped. She didn't sound like my mum somehow - didn't have that note of deep, grinding misery from years and years of chronic pain. Didn't sound like she just wanted to make the world all go away. It was the sound of my mum on her rare good days, the few I remembered growing up, when we'd go to the park or even to a fun fair or a bonfire and she'd smile and we'd all smile back at her. When Mum was happy, the whole family shone.

***

Dammit that last line got me.

Finally, the dream

For the past week I've been hearing my relatives regale everyone with their stories of dreams about my mom, and it did show a sequence that was kind of mystical and hilarious.

First my dad dreamt of her. Second was my aunt - my mom's younger sister. Then my uncle's wife and his mother-in-law did. We all live in Potong Pasir. After that was my cousin Eileen, who lived in Sengkang. So I joked that my mom was making her rounds, and next would be my cousin Joey who lived in Jurong. But it's been a few days since that joke and Joey hasn't said anything so I figure she didn't dream of her.

And now my mom's back in Potong Pasir I guess, 'cause I dreamt of her this morning.

In the dream, she was just there. Healthy-looking, smiling, adorable like she was. Is. I don't know. All I know is that I was a little bewildered, yet ecstatic to find that she didn't die after all.

I brought her to my room to show her my newly-organized closet, but then hit a dilemma: I'd separated my clothes into two halves. One half was colored clothing that I couldn't wear for 100 days while the other half were blacks/whites/grays/blues that I could wear. But I couldn't very well tell her why I sorted them that way, because there she was, very much alive! I remember feeling conflicted about it.

Then she proceeded to point to some picture or card that I can't remember anything about, and there were three numbers, 02 04 06 or something like that. I keep recalling that 03 was involved. Afterwards she pulled me into the living room to look at another picture/card and it had four numbers on it, like 4D. But now I can't remember anything.

After a short while, my mom left, and my dad came into my room. I told him Mom came back, and he wore a confused expression. "That wasn't your mom, that was our neighbor auntie who came to visit!"

Imagine my dreamworld crumbling. (Not literally like in Inception, but metaphorically like "my world crumbled".) I got flashbacks of my mom in the dream, just moments ago, and in each flashback she morphed into my neighbor. So it had been a lie. My mom wasn't alive again.

Still, I'm glad I had a dream about her because I was afraid I'd forget her face. In the dream she had been silent, possibly because I've already half-forgotten how her voice sounded like. Or maybe, if I wanted to make sense of the dream, she didn't make a sound because she was an imposter! Speaking would have given her away since she was actually my neighbor.

I am so confused but content.

P.S. Please ignore sentence structure and grammatical errors and overall vocabulary. I'm just writing this all down for me.

It's all depressing posts for a while

I walked past a sushi stall that was still open at this hour just now. Wondered excitedly if they had your favorite salmon sushi rolls at half price.

And then I realized I didn't need to get them anymore.

Tomorrow marks the first normal Saturday without you. Whom can I call five minutes before work ends to see if I had someone to eat lunch with? On Saturdays, you were always the first.

Mom, it gets hard to breathe when I picture you sitting on that torn, red sofa of ours, munching on peanuts and watching some Hokkien TV show when I open the gate, shrug off my shoes and hang up my keys.

It gets harder when I think of sitting in front of your spirit tablet thingy to tell you about my day.

It gets harder when I get up for a drink of water during the night and the living room is dark and silent without you falling asleep in front of the TV.

It's hardest when I'm reminded of your voice. I'm afraid I won't be able to remember it much longer. It fades a little every day.

Please be safe, and happy, wherever you are.