Yours Truly

My photo
is behind you.
I am a confused, dangerous little girl. And I bite. Fear me.

Monday, June 20, 2011


sometime last year, near the end of school, Ms Susie walked into class and told us to think of a single word. Any word. After we had done so, she forced us to make it into a poem to be passed up the next day, a friday. I didn't make it xD so I negotiated for a monday. and she told me, "For that, your poem must be excellent. You must make it excellent. Heh heh this should teach you not to negotiate with me. >D"

i ended up writing it at 1am on monday. cough.

hope i met your...expectations xD;


There used to be a little girl,
Of age no more than nine.
She used to love her little tree,
With its branches and leaves just fine.

She'd climb its branches day by day,
And sing it mindless lullabies.
So when the wind doth blow
and rage and roar, the tree just sways and sighs.

She'd sit in its shade rain or shine,
Laughing at birds flying by;
Wishing she could climb her tree,
And take off to the sky, just as free.

But alas, for came a time,
Where she was too sick to even eat;
And so was taken to the hospital,
Where every second was measured by the clock's tick.

The tree, without her voice,
Started to wither, fade and die.
Till she came back one day, half-bald--
Saw her tree, and started to cry.

Her body as frail as her tree's smallest twig,
Her face as gaunt as her tree's withered branch,
Still she sat under its shade with her voice of magic
Singing, singing, till it filled the air, the ground and all around.

Her voice was like the sound of morn,
The triumphant call of victory.
It was like the first breath after a coma,
And the happy ending of a story.

It filled everything with hope,
And the tree started to grow.
But as the tree strengthened, her body weakened,
And around her settled a heavy sorrow.

And so came the day,
When a white van took her away.
The wind blew and raged and roared,
But the tree could only sigh and sway.

But she had given her voice to the tree,
Her magic voice, so full of hope.
And as she uttered her very last word,
She imagined herself, free as a bird.

Now as the wind doth blow,
And the leaves of the tree rustle and fall,
You might hear the sound of morn;
Or perhaps, the triumph of a victory call.

© Christine Ling, 2010.

reminder: must. stop. procrastinating. ...EVERYTHING.

Friday, June 10, 2011

Thought of the Day #21

why my chin so sharp!!! D:

Thursday, June 9, 2011


I'm a not a fighter. I'm a coward. I give up a lot and I never try my best. I think the last time (and maybe the only time) I tried my best was when I was writing essays in Brother Albinus' English class. In 2009. Two years ago. Ever since then? hahahah lol.

I don't know why I never push myself. I don't know why when anyone else tries, I just nod but do nothing. Am I stubborn? I've never really thought of myself as stubborn, just more of a "yes, I hear you and I agree whole-heartedly, but I shall do that later teehee" kind of person. Is that being too complacent? I'm very laid-back.. And I procrastinate everything from waking up to going to sleep. But yeah, I'm starting to think yes, I'm stubborn and rebellious. a quiet way.

Because whenever someone pushes me, I resist. ): I don't dare be pushed forward. The harder you push, the harder I dig my heels into the ground. And I do it unconsciously. It's so stupid. I can give great advice, I can see what's clearly wrong with me, I know what I should do...but I can't. And saying, "No, I can! Because nothing is impossible." hasn't changed me yet.

So I'm really scared. I don't think I can make it out there. I don't think it's fully hit me yet that, "Hey, Chris. You're 17. You're actually your seniors' age when you were form 1 and thought they were so grown-up and confident and ready for life and success. You're leaving this town soon. Your friends, your family, your shelter, comfort, childhood, your everything. You're growing up."

No. I look at myself in a mirror and still see a fifteen-year-old, at the very most. I don't know how the form 1s see me, but I'm pretty sure I don't carry that aura my senior form 5s of 2007 had. I cannot, I just can't.

And telling me things like, "No, Chris. I believe in you. I KNOW you can do it. I can just see it." makes me feel even worse. Because I can't see it and I can't even begin to imagine it. How can you see it, when I'm not even working for it? And when I don't understand myself how it...or anything else, really, could happen, I reject it completely.

Also what scares me the most is knowing I have a very high chance of getting cancer and dying because I'm not a fighter. I don't have the strength or will to persevere and force myself out of bed or to overcome such a disease. And me saying this already reduces the chance of surviving even more. I'm not like my dad, who never gives up and fights against cruel fate, who forced himself up every day during chemo when weak and shaking to exercise and sweat the toxins out to get healthy again, who told me, "I won't let myself die until I see you graduate."

I'm now even scared of having a family or getting into anything because if I do die, I'll cause so much trouble, pain, heartache and regrets among them. What more if I leave when my kids are barely toddlers (if I do get kids). I want to be able to fight to live for my kids, but..I don't think I can. Unless I change.

But I don't know how.