For all those who wander are not lost.

For a long time

I’ve waited

to feel freedom

from beyond this fathomless trench

I spent years digging myself into.


But even as I walk down this golden path

I feel the tension beneath my feet

with every step

the shadows loom closer

taking delight in the consumption

of light hearts and gaiety.


it’s almost as if

someone has painted an ebony black

over the rainbow I had prized

as my most guarded dream


there is no such thing

as security.


Still I must not crumble

underneath this continuous weathering

the promise of better days

is not that far away

from beyond this blasted hurricane

I believe that clearer skies will light the way

towards a life that’s truly worth living.


in deference to what I love

This journey has been hard, but I am not barred.

I know there is something more,

something I can’t yet see,

something beyond obscurity,

something just for me.


Pushing through the doubt and strain, I’ll gladly do it all again.

For all the faith that you bestowed

this is a path I can’t forego

this is the only path I know

and through the misery, I shall grow.


For the horizon really is not that far, closer and closer each day that we are.

This is the dream that I’ll never leave

a dream so compelling it keeps me awake

a dream that will test how much I can take

a dream of mine that nothing can break.


Because even from the very start

I have loved it with all my heart.

94 – What would you do with your life if money wasn’t an issue?

Someone asked me that question the other day.

What would you do (as an occupation), if money wasn’t an issue?

I didn’t think twice about it and answered simply that I would still wish to be a doctor. Though in that case, it’s my GPA that’s the issue more so than money.

It really is something I want to do in my life. I know it’s a lot of work and it’s certainly going to be difficult and there’s no guarantee that I’ll even succeed. But that’s life. You just have to take things one step at time. And be happy – every step of the way.

It occurred me to just now though, that there actually may be things I’d be more inclined or more interested in. I mean, I don’t often go looking at research papers in my spare time nor do I often pursue things outside of class that would enrich my understanding of the sciences. I’ve always brushed it off as “I’m still young” which is only partially true. One of my friends in high school would often hours looking at x-rays or diagnoses, finding it to be of interest. It was eye-opening. You are never too young to get interested in scientific material; you are never too young for academia. Just when am I going to feel like “I’m old enough” or get to the point where studying medicinal or scientific research becomes an enriching hobby? Will I ever? I feel like this is something I have to modulate in my life. Maybe I’m just lacking a push to get me starting a whole new train of inspiring literature.

Personally though, I’ve always felt more drawn to artistic material. I find that scientific material l interesting to learn, but never satisfying in the same way as a really good story. There’s something so exciting in expression, in feeling a connection with an author whether it be in a painting, a comic, a short story, a novel, a movie, or an animation. It moves me. And I don’t think I’ll ever stop loving the arts. It’s the little things. It’s the feeling you get when you take ten or fifteen minutes to admire a piece of art while you were just passing by; it’s the sensation that runs through your veins when you reach an epiphany at the end of short film or story; it’s the tears that slide slowly down your face during that tragic moment after a climatic plot; it’s the smile on your face after something “really, really good”. I could never give these things up.

And I know I don’t have to. Just because I’m pursuing a career down a different path doesn’t mean I can’t keep these things in my life. So I will. Forever and always. Because they fulfill me. They are very much a part of who I am.

I think, if money wasn’t an issue, I’d be a indie game developer. I’d make games that both children and adults could enjoy. Games that inspire. Games that give you a tingling sensation of fulfillment. Because that’s what they did for me – ever since I was a little girl. They brought into my world, and I’d like to pass that feeling on. Maybe someday, when I have the resources to do so, I can make this dream come alive – share my passion with other people. Even if it touches just a few people, I would feel satisfied.

For now, I need to focus on school. Study hard. Pursue my passion for discovery and quench my curiosity in a different field. I think the key to finding my connection to a scientific field is to read. Reviews, articles, novel compilations of what’s happening in the world. I think, because reading is something I enjoy thoroughly, that I’ll find my inspiration in the words. Somewhere. Somehow.


So. What would you do? If money wasn’t an issue?

one of these days

one of these days

i’ll paint you a dream

a melange of smiles and laughter

an imaginary stream


one of these days

the world will be brighter

we’ll find a place that’s just ours

and our troubles will be lighter


one of these days

i’ll hold you in my arms

place your heartbeat next to mine

and whisk away all harms


one of these days

when we’ve chittered and chattered

we’ll find freedom in each other

and we’ll be all that ever mattered.

Those were the times.

I miss staring into the horizon

wondering about

all the possibilities



would bring


I miss thinking


the only limitations

were the skylines of your mind


I miss the daydreaming

that existed

before the coming

of habitual tendency

of responsibility

of maturity


I miss the luxury

of freedom

of believing that anything was possible

with a forward looking smile

with kaleidoscopic eyes


Those were  the times

when happiness came naturally

and needed no protection

from our sighs

needed no provocation

and no reason

to exist


Those were the times

when happiness was happy.


There are dreams stuck to the edges of my soul,

They propagate, fluctuate beyond my control.


Will they overwhelm me when I close my eyes?

How much longer will I suffer from reprise?


I don’t know what to do to make it all go away,

They seem so hardheaded, so determined to stay.


For once, the darkness becomes my only friend,

Only with darkness will these nightmares end.


Familiar faces bring forth emotions deep inside,

They pull apart secrets that I have set aside.


Is it wrong of me to be so afraid?

These are the struggles that I chose to evade.


Wither away, please let me be free!

Can’t you see what you’re doing to me?


Vivid, cruel, the colours flicker in my head,

I’m terrified, traumatized by the fears on my bed.


Let it be known that I have tried my best,

Leave out all the details, leave out all the rest.


I’m lying on a hotel bed and it’s too early to sleep.

My mom said I laughed in my sleep last night.

You were in my dreams and I think this is the first time it’s happened.
I don’t remember anything that would’ve made me laugh, but I’m sure the dream started out nice. What I remember wasn’t quite so.

There was this mad scientist lady (what?) that was determined to keep us apart. I think I know her, but her face is a blur to me now.

There was an underground passage and an underground laboratory.  I was running from her (why am I the coward?) and you were running after both of us.

She cornered me. Laughed. You grabbed her and stopped her from reaching me. She threw a flask down at my feet. It shattered. I felt dizzy.

She explained that it was a love potion that would change my heart (make me fall in love with her?). You laughed in disbelief.

I remember looking at you helplessly, an expression in my eyes signalled for you to save me (what…?). You didn’t answer that signal.

Instead, you made a bet. You bet her that even after the potion took effect that I would still only be drawn to you. Why did you make such a bet? What if you were wrong? Why am I asking questions about my own dream?

It hurt me that you would just leave me there,  cringing on the cold tile floor. But you were right,  I did still reach for you in the haze of that unknown chemical. You took me by the arm and we left together. I was mad, but I forgave you instantly (seriously?). Is this what happiness is?

Why was I laughing?