Letter to my Future Love

To the love of my life,

Where are you now? Are you with someone else or are you as alone as I am? I keep wondering where I went wrong? Shouldn’t have we found each other by now? It feels like I missed the last train. I am young, this I know, but I feel so alone.  To me, it feels like everybody is getting engaged, married, or having babies. I’m in my late 20s and I know that it is still young. Though I am career-driven, I thought that at least I’d be dating someone.

When I was a child, back when I dreamed of the distant future, I thought I’d be a married doctor (or at least a resident doctor) by 25 and have kids by 26 or 27. Where am I now? Alone. In a distant country, away from my family. I had viewed the world back then through rose-colored glasses. I believed I could get into the prestigious state university. How wrong I was… I believed I could get into medicine. Unfortunately, you either need the brains or the money to go with medicine. I changed my plans and thought I’d be migrating to the western world with my career. Well, look where I am now. Out in the beautiful Middle East desert, working for a job I sometimes love and I sometimes hate.

Yes, I like this place but this is not where I plan to stay long. The locals are wonderful, kind and accommodating. But the other expatriates, not so much. It doesn’t feel like home. Of course, home is where the heart is… and my heart is torn in two. The first half remains with my family back home and the other half is with the love I’ve yet to meet.

I haven’t met you yet, I suppose. Or maybe I have and I just missed that opportunity. God knows, how many opportunities have passed me by.  Was I too timid? Was I too passive? Maybe I was aggressive for other reasons, aggressively chasing the dreams I thought I wanted. I don’t really know.

I think I’m lost. Too lost to ever figure out that I am chasing the wrong dream. Maybe I can still chase my dreams of travel or of writing. God knows I still want them. It’s probably the reason why I am ambivalent in this career. I am no longer full of passion as when I started. I wonder if that also cooled my passion in finding love.

Dear love of my life, please come and find my lost soul soon. I don’t know how long I can hold on in this ambivalence towards life. I thought I could maintain my passion in life, the passion I had when I braved the challenge of adulthood. Right now, I feel like a lost child. I don’t know what I’m doing in my life. I just wake up, go to work, eat, go to sleep. It’s an endless routine that I sometime mix up with hanging out with friends or going shopping. Nonetheless it’s a routine, an ambivalent routine.

So my dear, I hope we can find each other soon. I don’t know about you but I do know that I miss my passion in life. Maybe finding you can rekindle that passion, maybe not. Who knows?  All I know is that I feel lonely without you. Lonely and lost.

Please come and find me soon. I grow tired of the endless wishing.

With all my love, I will wait for you.


​Since I’ve got my career and am on a good track, I think it’s time to wish for a different thing. I’ve not seriously prayed or wished for love before. I mean, I would usually throw it in for good measure but… More often than not, I earnestly prayed for my career. So this year, on my 27th, I think I might just wish for that. To find the love I deserve. Maybe this time around, it won’t take years for my wish to be granted.

The First Year Away

My first birthday, Christmas, and New Year that is legitimately away from home. I’m a thousand miles away in a foreign land with foreign customs in pursuit of a dream that I’m still not sure is completely mine. Am I lonely? In a way, yes. I cannot see my parents aside from video chats. Though I am not affectionate and tend to shy away from social interactions, not seeing my family in person is a little bit hard. I may have had practice by not being home for a couple weeks, even months, at a time but I was still within the same country. I would be able to travel over land in a few hours just to see them with a minimal fee. Now, I have to fly and pay a significant amount if I want to hold them close.

I do not do well in social situations, I tend to stay in and laze around. So this year, it has been challenging for me. Challenging in a way that I had to step up to make friends and be more sociable. It exhausts me to no end but I do not wish to be told that I’m not a team player. That is why I had to push myself, to stop being a recluse, despite my discomfort. I need to be believable that I am happy and grateful to be here.

Six months. Not long at all. Not enough to make me heartsick (homesick), but enough to make me miss my family, dogs included. -21 Nov 2016, 1620H-

; and +

The semi-colon ( ; ) and the crucifix ( ), 11 February 2014


The semi-colon, a symbol I first encountered in elementary English. A symbol that was given a new meaning back in 2012,something I found over in Tumblr. A symbol that embodied hope and strength. It means never choosing to end one’s life despite all hardships. For me, it means to endure trials and challenges and to fight back against bullying.

This is a symbol I plan to tattoo and embed in my life. Something to remind me to be strong, to remain hopeful; that many others like me choose life over and over again. That despair is not weakness, it is a trial, to determine if we will choose life.


The crucifix, the cross, another symbol. This one of faith. To remind us, to remind me, that Jesus sacrificed himself for us… for me. That He had not lost faith in all humanity despite his own trials. That trust in God’s plan and His timing is important, and He will always see us through.


These symbols, once embedded, will never be removed. To give me hope, to give me strength. To remind me that despair is part of life but should not necessarily cause us to end our existence. Life is full of difficulties and it will continuously test our limit, we just have to hold on to hope. These symbols will remind me that I must never give up.

Crash and Burn, 03 October 2012

As fast as the fire had started,

just as quickly it dissipated.

Not even embers remain

of memories that are faint.

A friendship that had gone cold,

one I thought to be warm until we grow old.

One thing I regret is that we forget

a blossoming love, turned away by pride.

So goodbye my friend, good bye.

We will never meet again.

My Muse

The night is my muse.

It always has been.

Words flow easily,

from pen to paper,

under the cover of darkness.

Burning the midnight oil,

when the moon is high and bright,

with a blanket of stars.

Whether the backdrop is a city skyline

or a bright sea of lights,

in the cover of darkness,

my muse sings sweetly.

Up on that pedestal,

this inky black sky

illuminated by the silver orb,

a soft glow without warmth,

this moon shines unperturbed.

As aloft as sweet cherubs,

it lends voice to my thoughts.

Transcribing whispered words,

the muse has set to be presented,

harsh ramblings of broken hearts and dashed dreams,

and soft sweet promises of love and hope.

The night is my muse,

inspiring emotions, setting hearts ablaze.

Back When I Thought I was Strong, 06 September 2012

I have never reached out to you because I was, I am, afraid of rejection. You were the one to call or send a message, and I was always ready to receive you. Open arms, heart on my sleeve, and listening ears. So why did I fall for you? It was not like you reciprocated the gestures as I wasn’t the one to seek your warmth. I can’t blame you for the injustice, the unfairness of it all. I knew what I was doing and what I was getting into. I can only ever hold myself accountable. More self-hatred and self-pity for me on this one.

Congratulations, by the way, you made me cry. Be proud! Not a lot can get me teary-eyed. I want to talk to you without anyone else, just so I can make heads or tails of it. However, it seems you’ve already got everything sorted out. Thank you for your kind consideration, hear the sarcasm, of my feelings.

How come when I’m the one who wants to talk, you won’t even bat an eyelash? How is it then that when you want to talk, I drop everything and go to you? I hate myself some more every time. I really hate myself for falling for you. I really, really, really  hate myself. It isn’t fair.

It doesn’t help that I’ve already talked to several people. I wish I would just learn to clam up. Before, I never talked about anything with anyone… but because of you and these things between us, I can never stop myself from baring my heart out. Why do I always talk? I might as well die of humiliation. Why can’t the earth just swallow me whole?

It isn’t fair, is it? It never is.