fresh february


on the lunar new year eve, i solemnly promised myself that i would write something everyday. as a form of training for my brain, my heart and my yearning. so here goes.

today i took the morning flight back to school. in the past few months i have flew so much that it has become a habit, like catching the next bus out of my university or so. in truth, sometimes i take longer than 1.5 hours to travel from NTU to some other part of Singapore, so i guess that sort of justifies how i come to treat the trips to and from home so lightly.

despite these travel routines, and the quirks and ways of this city that i have come to know so well, lately i have grown to feel uncomfortably numb and uneasy here. i don’t feel like i belong here. i saw someone comment online, that some people call themselves New Yorkers even when they’ve only spent two months there. i have spent half of my life here, but i can’t bring myself to call myself a Singapore person (新加坡人). but why? and how is it so?

perhaps the grass is always greener on the other side. this city has given me so many opportunities to shine and to dream, yet i still can’t bring myself to love it. am i selfish or what? i keep dreaming about the lovely street food and cd stores in Taiwan, the quaint and quiet street alleys of Beijing, the overwhelming skyscrapers of New york, the stylish coffeehouses of Seoul, the steep and illusive roads of San Francisco… and of the places i’ve never been before – i want to see Greece and Israel and Egypt, these long ago empires, myths and legends that have fascinated me for long; Japan where i left a piece of my heart and soul there; and Europe where i’ve heard so many stories about.

Oh where do i actually belong? where can i find that genuine happy smile on my face that i have lost, only to see it on a picture taken last summer with this gigantic ice cream larger than my face?


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