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People who love chocolates are my friends.

May 2005 June 2005 July 2005 August 2005 September 2005 October 2005 November 2005 December 2005 January 2006 February 2006 March 2006 April 2006 May 2006 June 2006 July 2006 August 2006 September 2006 October 2006 November 2006 December 2006 January 2007 February 2007 March 2007 April 2007 May 2007 June 2007 July 2007 August 2007 September 2007 October 2007 November 2007 December 2007 January 2008 February 2008 March 2008 April 2008 May 2008 June 2008 July 2008 August 2008 September 2008 October 2008 November 2008 December 2008 January 2009 February 2009 March 2009 April 2009 May 2009 June 2009 July 2009 August 2009 September 2009 October 2009 November 2009 December 2009 January 2010 February 2010 March 2010 April 2010 May 2010 June 2010 July 2010 August 2010 September 2010 October 2010 November 2010 December 2010 January 2011 February 2011 March 2011 April 2011 May 2011 June 2011 July 2011 August 2011 September 2011 October 2011 November 2011 December 2011 February 2012 April 2012 May 2012 July 2012 August 2012

I was brought up in the best environment ever, I was surrounded by countless books growing up, old, dog-eared books which all of the siblings loved. They did play a big part in my life. When other pig-tailed plaited girls were skipping ropes, holding hands, I immersed myself in my own world of fairies, dragons, wishing chairs, faraway places, where I would imagine myself going. I believed in nicer things like toffee flavoured flowers, climbing up a tree to go to magical places, and I thought that the most horrid thing in the world were witches and goblins.
I will always remember when my p2 teacher asked us to draw the sea. I drew mermaids in my art. No one else drew it, no one else knew what they were, they were all contemplating whether crabs should be orange or black. No one thought that 2 of my lovely mermaids with long green and red tails should be in my art. I think that day, in a dramatic way, changed my life. Little did the tiny ghosts of my peers' knew what they did, even I didn't notice til I got older. An 8 year old girl just lost all of her creativity. I was moulded into someone I wasn't but at least I'm still someone, I didn't turn out the creative hobos who will turn out to be either a poor artist, or on the other end of the spectrum, Madonna. I also remember, writing a piece of literature for my f2 teacher which was out of the box creative, and I nearly wrote another different one, just because I forgot to bring my book to class. Yes, I got mentioned in class for being different, but the teacher didn't remember or mentioned my name. I was only comfortable expressing myself a little bit better 4 years later, and it was probably too late, I was already another person still struggling, yes, still struggling, still unsure of where my next step should be.
I grew up, like the cute guy I had a crush on, became an attractive man. I've watched thousand of episodes of time wasting series, ate hundreds of sushi rolls, ate kilograms and kilograms of chocolates, read thousand pages of books, been through snowstorms, had dozens of haircuts, changed different shades of hair, and yet, still, I'm unsure of myself. Maybe, it was just because of innocent comments by few elementary school kids, I seriously hope not.