The Patchwork Doll
When people think of the word sorrow, most of the images and thoughts that come to mind seem to surround the morbid theme of death, unrequited love and longing, pain and suffering. The ideas that we come up with are based on the experiences that we have, the stories that we live.
This is mine.
The images that fill my mind when I close my eyes is this:
Lying in bed. Arms and legs feeling like they're on fire. That pillow I'm desperately hugging is soaked with sweat, blood, and pus. It is nighttime, and it feels like the night will never end. This is my reality. Closing my eyes is the most terrifying moment of everyday, because I know that when I next open them it will be because I have been woken up by the pain.There is nothing I can do at this time, when the world is asleep. The sky is dark, and I'm thankful because it feels like I can hide under the cover of the night. Every once in awhile I have to tear my arms away from my pillow, because the raw flesh is drying and getting stuck. And then, I have to let the wind sting at it so that the wounds will dry. But before long, I lose conviction and succumb to feeling the comforting cotton case on my flesh. And the cycle continues.
When I catch a glimpse of the sun rising, I breathe a sigh of relief that I've survived another night. And as the light streams in through my window, I catch a glimpse of my blood-stained hands.
As it turns out, I, am my own murderer. And that, to me, is true sorrow.
"It feels weird to give this story a name. Calling it a story in the first place makes it sound like it's fiction, like it's not real, like it didn't happen. But this story did happen, and this story does have a name. Because stories are alive like people, and if people have names so that other people can remember who they are and what they did, then why can't stories have names too?"
- The Patchwork Doll, by tsukiiruka
Tuesday, 14 May 2013
Friday, 3 May 2013
The Patchwork Doll
A Story with a Name
I will never forget the day that I realized that something was wrong with me. It was a very normal day, as normal as a day can be in the life of a 10 year old. I don't remember the weather, I don't remember what i was wearing. But what I do remember is the image of me sitting on the cold marble flooring of my house and scratching the back of my knees until they were raw. It sounds so weird, as if I am having an out of body experience as I think about the past. How is it that I can see myself in my visions of the past, as if I am not the one sitting on the floor bleeding?
But the truth is, that was who I was then, that is who I am now, and that is who I will always be.
I will always be that little 10 year old girl sitting on the floor bleeding. Even when my wounds have healed, and even when the bleeding has stopped, the scars will forever remain. It may not be my wounds bleeding anymore, but my heart will always bleed when I look at my skin.
It is important to me to write all this down, to recall memories when I still can, to remember the past that has made me who I am today. The lessons that I've learnt, the obstacles that I've faced, and the pain that I've gone through, has moulded my character and shaped my personality. I cannot be who I am now if I was not who I was then.
So it may be every few days, every few weeks, or even months, but I'll write it down. Piece by piece, patch by patch, for as long as it takes, until my story has been told.
It feels weird to give this story a name. Calling it a story in the first place makes it sound like it's fiction, like it's not real, like it didn't happen. But this story did happen, and this story does have a name. Because stories are alive like people, and if people have names so that other people can remember who they are and what they did, then why can't stories have names too?
This story is called The Patchwork Doll and her name is Tsuki.
Sunday, 26 September 2010
Monday, 20 September 2010
It's infinite and limited at the same time.
When we're young, we're told what our priorities are and that when we're older we will have all the time in the world to do what we want.
When you grow up.
But the reality is that, we have less and less time as we grow older.
We don't have time to do this.
I have to work.
I have an important project.
Sorry I can't celebrate your birthday.
Sorry I can't watch your play.
Sorry I can't do this,
Sorry I can't do that.
I don't have the time.
Teachers tell us 'everyone has the same amount of time, it's what you decide to do with it.'
Econs teaches us that we have infinite wants, limited resources.
We will never have 'enough time' to do all the things we want, so we have to make a choice:
Which wants are more important?
There will never be a 'right time' to do things.
You will never 'have time' eventually to do the things you want to do.
The only thing you can do is resolve to do the things you want, and just do them.
No need for a next time, a right time, or enough time.
Thursday, 16 September 2010
Person A told me that dealing with challenges and finishing what you started is part of learning lifeskills
Person B told me that our foreign counterparts are apparently not as skilled as us in dealing with highly stressed situations and mad deadlines, needing to destress every few hours by going shopping or something
Person C told me that you have to accept that sleeping at 3am every day is a completely normal thing to do
Person D told me that mealtimes can always be changed, lessons times cannot.
Person E told me that this is the path to greatness.
You are who you make yourself out to be.
At the end of the day, who are we to say we know someone better than they know themselves...
My friend once asked me for help in choosing her major. Should she go with her passion or the pragmatic?
I asked her: If you choose your passion, and down the road you start to realize you may not love it as much as you thought you did, would you think you chose wrongly? Or is it merely fluctuations in your passion and you just have to continue?
If you choose the pragmatic and you hit a roadbump, realizing that it's much tougher than you thought, would you think you chose wrongly? Or would you think that you should just practice more and continue?
I told her:
Don't just pray to God to give you wisdom in choosing the correct course, but pray for the strength and determination to finish whatever course you choose.
It's hard to take your own advice.
Actions speak louder than words- Unless you're shouting.
Talk is cheap (until you get sued).
53 feels like eternity.
Monday, 30 August 2010
11) Different people have different aspirations and goals.
12) Different people have different personalities and characters, hence they respond differently to the same situations.
13) Some people are more suited for sports, some are more suited for arts, some are suited for neither.
14) Eating when you're not hungry makes you fat.
15) Unless you're super duper uber sure of what you want to do in future, don't limit yourself to learning certain skills. It never hurts to learn everything in case you want to change your career halfway.
16) It takes time and concentration to build up your skills.
17) Go to work/school with a good attitude and you'll be rewarded.
18) Pay your bills on time or nasty things will happen.
19) Parents have a hand in how their kids eventually turn out, but their children still have to make their own decisions in life.
20) Looking through the telescope in the middle of the day is NOT stargazing.
Friday, 27 August 2010
1) Know your priorities. If your social bar is already full, then don't waste time talking to people! Likewise, if your sleep bar is empty then please go and sleep a nice 8 hours.
2) Lasting relationships require continual effort.
3) With a clear goal in mind, it's easier to remain focussed and make decisions.
4) Fun is important. A severe deficiency leads to overall inefficiency and frustration.
6) Thou must not neglect to eat, no matter how busy you are in trying to reach certain goals.
7) Always have a fire and burglar alarm.
8) An untidy environment is not a conducive environment.
9) You need friends to progress in your work.
10) You CAN learn how to cook from watching tv!
Thursday, 12 August 2010
If you ask me what's my pain threshold now, I would say that it hasn't changed since secondary school. I can still take the infinite amount of pain that eczema brings with the raw skin, open wounds, torn flesh, and what not. The only difference between then and now is that I no longer have the energy or strength to suppress it anymore.
I remember in secondary school, I always felt so alone when it came to my skin. People could never understand, even if they wanted to. I rarely ever told people about my pain. I rarely ever complained. When people started feeling sad for me and telling me what a 'poor thing' I am, I would always refute it. I never wanted to be known as that. I never wanted pity. Once when my form teacher told me I was 'ke lian', I responded with "lao shi, unless you mean I have a ke ai de lian, then no I'm not."
I'm not the bubbly, enthusiastic girl with a zest for life anymore.
This morning, I woke up with my arms hurting. My first reaction was to get back under my blanket and wrap my arms around my bolster. It always feels better that way.
My prelims are next week and I am hoping and praying that my skin will miraculously heal itself for these crucial 2 weeks.
I remember during my O levels, I asked God to let me wake up with my skin all better so that I could take my exams under the best possible conditions. He didn't. I neither question nor blame Him, but I won't forget that experience.
The most vivid memory was my emath paper. Wearing my trademark red sweater in a non air-conditioned hall in order to keep my arms covered in a bit to feel better, I awkwardly positioned my arms on the table in the most comfortable position possible. My arms couldn neither bend nor stretch any more or less than that awkward 110 degrees or so.
I remember feeling so frustrated and in pain, as I struggled to refer to the question paper and scribble answers on my paper at the same time.
I got out of there with an A1 nonetheless, but I will never forget 'how' I got it.
God has never failed me before, and I pray for the strength to carry on till the end despite the pain and the fatigue.
Some take my absence as a manifestation of weakness, some may assume my cries of pain to be signs of a low pain threshold.
But the only difference between the me in secondary school and the me now is that I used to cry silently in the night in order not to wake anyone up.
I used to cry in the bathroom at home and in school where no one could see me.
I never told anyone how much pain, loneliness, and rejection I felt whenever I saw someone staring at my scarred and wounded legs on the MRT, or when people moved away from me for fear it'd be contagious, or when I sit alone during assembly because I can't sit on the floor with everyone else.
The me now tries voicing out the pain instead of denying it. The me now tries to gain understanding, not sympathy. The me now tries asking people to help me overcome the obstacles instead of creating more.
But the me now sees that sometimes silence is best after all, because some people will never understand. Some won't ever try.
Sunday, 1 August 2010
While school uniforms have been a mandate around the world, the Japanese seem to have taken it to another level, often integrating pop culture into their designs. In fact, the Japanese uniform plays a symbolic role for students in professing first love. Upon graduating middle-school, girls will ask their crushes for their dai-ni button or the second-button down on his uniform jacket. If the boy has similar romantic intentions for the girl, he will remove this button- the button closest to his heart- and give it to her.
Tuesday, 20 July 2010
Hello, old friend
it's good to be with you.
Time is standing still.
Our love shines true and bright--it always will.
My wishing star has guided all you do.
My empty heart you fill.
We still feel forever young.
Looking back, we're just the same
as we were when we began.
This love will keep protecting us.
Reach for me, and I'll take your hand.
When we're apart, just close your eyes
and you'll see me waiting there.
You can always count on me
I will always care.
My special friend, inside my heart you'll stay.
You'll be with me until the sun shine through the night--
It never will.
My little star, you'll never fade away.
The hands of time are still,
and we'll be forever young.
Hello to you,
it's nice to see your smile.
Step up and take my hand.
One touch, and we'll be friends forever.
Hello, old friend,
it's good to see you, too.
Time is standing still.
Oh, we'll be forever young
(As sung in the CareBears Movie: The Next Generation) Loves.