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Malaysian Alien


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Thursday, July 26, 2007
Since 1975

I remember a long time ago when I was a little girl, perhaps way before my two brothers were born, I lived a relatively blissful childhood. Those early childhood years were spent in Tampin, where both my parents worked as high school teachers. We lived in a little house on stilt, wooden and green. It had a nice garden with a mango and a rambutan tree. The windows were from floor to ceiling and the floor creaked whenever my tiny feet ran across them.

My father told me that he drove a white Volkswagen Beetle when I was very little. This, I cannot remember. There are no photos of that car to remind me of it. I however remember the red car my father drove, mainly because I have a photo of it. Next to the porch where the car was parked, there was a little swing. My father made that swing for us to swing the evenings away.

My father's red car in Tampin

It was an idyllic time, spent chasing boys in the preschool, climbing trees in the garden and exploring my parents’ cupboard. I do not consider myself a naughty child but my parents swear that I was horribly disobedient. Smart in the wrong way, my mother said time and again to her friends. And they shook their heads in total disbelief that a girl was more naughty than their little sons.


To understand me, you must first understand my parents’ relationship and how it has affected me until today – in both positive and negative ways. However I will never blame my parents for my own fuck-ups. My fuck-ups are entirely my responsibility. I do not believe in shifting the blame on anyone other than myself. That is what I have always believed in. Strong personalities do not cry and blame others. Strong personalities ride the waves in life and overcome and I am such.

My parents were high school teachers. My father taught English and Science and my mother taught Mathematics. They first met when my father taught a pretty girl in her senior year. My father was a dashing young man, just 8 years older than my mother. They met, fell in love and then they got married. To this day, my mother blamed her stupid choice of a life partner on the fact that she was too young and way too naive when she met my father.

They were married on the first day of 1975 and I was born 13 months later. My mother became a mother at the age of 25. She then studied and trained as a teacher while I was a toddler. Throughout my young years, my mother warred with my paternal grandmother (that would be her mother in law). And for years, my mother argued with my father over the old lady.

Throughout her married life, my mother experienced immense disappointment. She felt let down by my father, who was supposed to love her and cherish her. Instead she felt that my father loved his mother more than his wife. This story is common, I know but what I know is not common are the repercussions of the thirty years of arguments. Even as a young child, my mother taught me never to trust men. You have to work hard for yourself and not let any man bully you, my mother said for years.


The funny thing is, I never experienced that with my father. I am my father’s only daughter and he cared for me when I was really little. I have many memories of afternoons spent playing games and watching my father on the tennis court. There are albums of my childhood, testimonies to the bond that my father and I shared. I cannot even begin to tell you which childhood memory I loved best.

As terrible as he was, according to my mother, my father was perfect to me. And he loved me and I knew it. So when my parents argued, I would step in and tell my mother to get over it. ‘You cannot harp on the same issues since 1975,’ is the line I say to my mother whenever she argued with my father.

Yes, my mother had every right to argue. She was right most of the time. My father was careless in his love, divided between loving his mother and his wife. My father was wrong because he failed to protect and nurture my mother through the early years of their marriage. However there is no resolve if she insisted on talking about something that happened 30 years ago.

My relationship with my mother has been strenuous at best. To her, I was born disobedient and ungrateful. Her measure of my love was based on my loyalty towards her. I must have been born with a set of opinions at birth because my mother heard my opinions of things from the day I could speak my mind. And for having my personal beliefs and opinions, I have not had a good relationship with her.

But my relationship with my father has always been good. Till today, I know that I am his favourite child. Out to buy dinner from the night market, my packet of dinner will have something extra that no one else had. The list of favouritism includes my favourite piece of fried chicken or extra vegetable because I am a spinach freak.


‘Do not side for your father. You think your father loves you?,’ my mother asked one day. She was sobbing, her hair in a mess. She was a puddle of tears one morning when she, again, felt that my father did not love her enough. I came downstairs to screams from both sides and I just calmly told my mother the same thing I told her for years: ‘Move on with your life. You cannot live your life based on something that happened 30 years ago.’

‘You think your father loves you?’ Those words were like venom, injected into my veins. ‘Your father did not want you even when you were in my stomach. He wanted to throw me and you out of the house when he had not even seen you. What sort of man throws his pregnant wife out of the house?’

And so she began to tell me a story; a childhood story that I cannot remember because I was not even born yet. My mother was heavily pregnant with me when my parents argued one day and according to my mother’s story, my father told her to leave the house. Now I understand my mother's anger towards me. My mother was angry with me for all the years that she thought that I have been ungrateful. That I loved the person whom she considered had ruined her life. That I have not shown my loyalty towards her because she was the one who bore me and stayed in an unhappy relationship for the sake of me.

‘You think your father loves you? Your father did not want you.’


If you have never been told that you are an unwanted child, I can honestly tell you that the knowledge is not pleasant. If you are going to be a father or a mother, please do your future children a favour and spare them of such information, even if it is the truth. A child should never be told that he is not wanted.

I walked away from the living room and I could hear them wrestle on, like the way they do for all the years that I can remember. I do not remember crying or feeling anything in particular. ‘So Miss Otto, how do you feel now that you know that your father did not want you when you were little?’ I asked myself that question for days.

I was present at their next argument again. Often time their arguments were over minor things such as my father forgetting to buy a certain breakfast something for her or he disagreed with my mother’s opinion. Those acts and some others, according to my mother, clearly showed how much my father did not love her. Thus confirming that she was right all along. Since 1975.

‘You know what? I don’t care if my father did not want me when I was little,’ I said to my mother. ‘It does not matter because I know that my father loves me NOW.’ I think those sentences shocked both my parents. ‘I forgive my father for it. It happened a long time ago. Now he is a changed man and I know for a fact that my father loves me.’


You always have choices in life. There is no such thing as ‘no choice’. You have made a decision and the decision was a ‘no choice’. There are always options and alternatives in life. The choice is in your hands.

You can choose to cry and sulk over something that happened a long time ago. Or you can choose to let go. In my mother’s case, she can choose to appreciate what she has now – a man that is willing to change his ways and try to win her heart. But my mother chooses to relive the 1970s and even though my grandmother has passed away last year, my mother cannot let go.

Yes, life is a bitch. Life is not fair. Yes, you were right and she was wrong. So what? What do you want? You want the old lady to tell you that she was wrong? That she was sorry? She is dead, she cannot say anything to you. And as far as she is concerned, she too, has moved on to another phase in her life through her death.

If you can just stop for a moment and open your eyes, you will see that everything is good. You have grown children, all who are responsible, intelligent and working. You have a reasonably healthy body and you have sufficient finance to live off. You have a man who still drives you around and takes you wherever he goes. He is not perfect. He learns from his mistakes. The key word is change. If he changes, then you must let go and understand that with each sunrise, a day brings fresh hope for a new beginning.


I could hate my father forever. How can any man disown a young baby? What can I do wrong as a little baby, other than I burp, spit milk, cry and dirty my diapers for 20 hours of every day? What did I do to deserve a father who is willing to send his pregnant wife away? I can be angry forever and I even have legitimate reasons for so.

But I choose to look beyond those days and see what I have presently. I have a father who listens intently to my stories, the way he does when I was little. I have the company of a 63-year-old man for teas and breakfasts. He eagerly shares stories of his fishing trips and until today, my father is the happiest man, even when he did not catch any fish bigger than the size of his palm. My father is no further than a phone call away. I have tested this idea - I have sobbed on the phone at 3 a.m. because I had bad cough. That happened 2 or 3 years ago, so I am not joking when I say that my father is a nice bloke. He made mistakes like all young men do. The difference is my father changed and now he is a good man.

Forgiving someone and letting go of the past are two very difficult things to do. It is hard to overcome anger and hurt but you have to deliberately choose to forgive someone, if you want to be happy in life. I know it is not the easiest thing to do in life. Some of you might now say ‘Oh Otto, that was such a little thing. You are not walking in my shoes. I have a terrible life and I have such injustice done towards me. Yours is nothing.’

Well trust me, honey. You have not walked a mile in mine. Forgiving my father was easy. Forgiving someone who took my innocence away was far more difficult. How do you forgive the man who single-handedly mishandled you so much that you feel that you can no longer trust men? How do you forgive the man who threatened to murder you and chased you around with a knife? How do you forgive the man who climbed over the gate and attacked your front door with a hockey stick? How do you forgive the man who robbed your brothers of their innocence when they were less than 12 years? How do you forgive the man for the trauma he has caused you and your family?

It is not easy. But life offers you choices and I chose to let go. I cannot live unless I let go of everything that has happened in the past. I purposed in my heart to forgive and move on with my life. The past has happened and I cannot change it. But I have control over my present and my future. I dare say that one of the more significant points of my life is the day that I talked to my father about it.

‘I should thank him for all the horrible things he did to me. I would not be where I am now if it was not for him. I have done so many things that I never dreamt before I met him. For one, I would not love myself as much as I do if it wasn’t for him.’

I learnt to accept the past for what it was. Everything happens for a reason. I could choose to make it a life lesson or I could drown in the past sorrow. I chose to make use of the experience and that was my choice.


So life is truly simple actually. It is made out of choices. Even your ‘no choice’ was a choice. You can either hold a grudge or forgive. I rather choose to forgive because forgiving everyone for all the injustice done towards you will set your soul free to live and love again.

Or you might one day wake up, old and grey, and you realise that you are still living a memory 30 years ago. Time has moved and the earth has changed. The only person reliving the bad memory is you. And that’s a lonely place to be.

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Wednesday, July 11, 2007
The End

While lying in bed last night, all my eyes saw was the little room I slept with Alex in Sevenoaks. How the blue was just the right shade and how the white would bounce of the walls. Yes, I remember now. He painted the room just before I visited him three years ago.

As I thought about this more, I saw the white paper lantern hung in the centre of the room and insects appeared, one after another, as I thought a little more. A few were buzzing around the lantern, searching for where the rest were; in the lantern, nearer to the source of light. I saw the window ajar and closed it in my mind, the way I do whenever I laid in the bedroom, on the bed with my seven pillows.

The whole room smelled of Alex. It was distinctive male smell, very musky and not so floral at all. I am in no way implying that Alex smelled bad. He smelled like the rest of his species – manly. The room was crammed with his books and mine with lots of my shoes under the bed. There was a white cupboard filled half with his clothes and the right side, mine. There was a crumple at the centre of the dark blue carpet, where the walking traffic was heaviest. That must be the reason why it was crumpled. And when I closed my eyes to sleep at night, a faint light was visible, glowing from the Apple Mac, which was put to sleep.

Usually we watched an episode of House or Green Wings, which were short episodes of about an hour each. The last time we laid in bed together to watch something, it was a Chinese movie entitled "Dumplings". Alex had excellent taste in things and his choice of movies never disappointed. Alex tucked into his side of the bed when the movie was over while I arranged my pillows to form a little nest. I had a pink blanket, which I used in the summers under the thinner duvet.


Years ago we slept naked together. We never minded how we looked or smelled. I do not even remember if he snored in the first few years we were together. We slept, cuddled like little kittens for tenderness. When it was cold, Alex slept on my side of the bed to warm it up whilst I brushed my teeth or changed out of my clothes.

As the years rolled by, he slept in his dark blue cotton boxers and I slipped into t-shirts and panties. I began to mind us sweating on each other. He had large European nostrils, so can you imagine what I felt when he slept next to my ears. I felt as if a fan was next to me, blowing at 100 km/hr. I found it bothersome the way he breathed into my ears whenever he hugged me to sleep. So I slept in my little corner, away from him. Soon my nest grew bigger and wider. Now I cannot even tell you when we began to sleep as two separate entities on the same bed.

Don’t get me wrong. Alex and I make great friends. We have fantastic conversations and I guess we still would, if we were talking. We hardly argued with each other. Often we shared similar taste in things and would accommodate each other, if our opinions differed. We liked the same eclectic things though I think Alex was more pragmatic of us two. We could talk forever, if we wanted to.

We complimented each other many levels. I would not go so far as to say that we could complete each other’s sentences because I think we never did. But certainly we enjoyed each other’s company very much. For the longest time, Alex was the rock in my life as he provided me with the stability (and craziness) that I craved inside.


In retrospect, I guess you can say that I should have seen this coming. But I promise you that I did not. I never dreamt of a day when I will no longer be with Alex and until today, I shut my mind so that it cannot dream about it. Now I despair whenever I think about Alex and I. Whatever happened to the sunshine and happiness we bathed in years ago? Are we forced to grow up with the clouds of future commitment and age issue looming ahead?

Why I did not realise this earlier, I do not know. So do not ask me what my mother asked me since I returned home. ‘What is he giving you? You need to plan for your future.’ Obviously my mother was spot on. I must admit my mother was right however sore as I am with the notion. She was talking about all the things that I held in my mind and the difference between the mother and her daughter was, my mother spoke while I tried to hide.

Now you would think that I would cow to my mother since I share the same concerns as my mother do. Nope. I have been ultra defiant in my replies. ‘Alex might not have given me anything materially but he has given me happiness that you do not know. I have been happy for all the years that I am with him. Can you say the same?’

Yeah, I know. Stabbing my mother’s heart, picking at her emotional troubles is quite the terrible thing for a daughter to do but I have to protect my heart. And I have to protect Alex because all I said was true. Alex gave me so much happiness in the years that we have been together. And I will never allow anyone to say anything bad about him.


Last night was the first time I sat and reflected on the relationship I had shared with this Scottish man. He is no longer the boy I knew 6 years ago. I was 25 when I met Alex on an island and he was merely 21. He was a boy and now he is a man. He used to bum around, travelling and then sharing a business with me. Now he wears a tie and goes to work. On weekends, he cleans the toilet and washes his Monday to Friday work clothes so he can wear them the following week again. Alex is a thrifty boy.

When we met, I was a little girl, dancing the nights away, riding in the cars with boys and hopping from one party to another. Life was crazy and it was exciting. When I put on my high heels on weekends, everything was buzzing with anticipation and excitement. And it was okay that way.

Now I am a grown woman and my life has changed. I have to make decisions for myself, decisions that are crucial for my future. What I do in the next 24 months will influence the next 20 years of my life. Where do I call my home? Who should I share my life with? What should I do to secure our future together? When will I play mommie and who would be there to support me when I do?


Sometimes when you open your eyes and heart and dare stare into your past, you will see many beautiful things. You will things that you wished you could do again and then there are things that you wished you would never. There will always be heartbreak and disappointments but you will also experience great joy and happiness. And if you are lucky, you will share everything with someone you love.

Life is like a river flowing on and on, even when you feel like you are stagnant, like a puddle of water. That is the beauty about living. The only thing certain about life is uncertainties. You can plan for your future but you will never know what the future brings until the future becomes today.

It was difficult to let go. If I have to think about it again, I do not think I will let Alex go. It is a very difficult decision and until this minute, I dare tell you that I do not think about it much. I keep myself busy and occupied, so I can take a rest from everything and just trust that life will bring me something.

Maybe my future is with Alex. Maybe it will not. But whatever it is, I have realised that it is beyond my control. I cannot count and plan for everything. Everything has its time. So the plan is to get on with my life and do my own thing. Do not bother too much for the future but allow life to bring me whatever blessings it has in store for me.

So I ended up doing the most ironic thing that one can do. I contradicted all that I had worried about. I worried about my relationship but I chose to abandon it. Abandoning it seemed like the most logical decision. I knew that I would straggle the relationship (or myself or Alex) if I stayed on. Take a step back and let everything flow. I am sure I will catch up sooner or later.

Alex asked what happens if circumstances changed and they were not favourable to us. As it is, circumstances are packing up like a mountain against us. It cannot be any worse. And if my relationship with Alex ends, then I guess an end is an answer too.

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Friday, July 06, 2007
The Watch

There is a watch that sits in my top drawer. It is no longer working. It is so old and worn out but still it sits in my top drawer. Each time I open my drawer, I remind myself of its life story.


The watch wasn’t special. It wasn’t any of these fancy watches you see these days. It was an ordinary black strap, white face Casio watch, I bought myself a long time ago. I can’t remember when exactly I bought it but I remember who I was with when I did.

The guy’s name was Alan and he was my friend. He was my friend for the longest time and then he became my millennium boyfriend. Yeah, I have had quite a few boyfriends and it seems to me that time is easiest to measure using boyfriends as a timeline. So now I can confidently tell you that the watch must have been at least 7 years old.

The watch wasn’t special but Alan was. He was the first man I loved because he loved me more. It might sound selfish to you but trust me, this arrangement works in the woman’s favour. Loving a man more always spells disaster.


‘Why didn’t you fix the watch?’ I asked him. It was 2 weeks since the watch needed a change of battery and I was waiting for Alan to do it for me. Not that I am spastic or anything. I could have done it all on my own but somehow my mind was quite firm on the decision that Alan should be the one to change it.

Somehow along the way, I determined to use it as a test. Somehow I had associated his love for me on this act. The more he delayed, the more I saw that he did not love me. He would have changed the battery by now if he loves me, I thought to myself. Each time I pestered him, he would just mumble some excuse. As days turned into weeks, I grew impatient and one day, I cried.

‘You don’t love me,’ I sat, facing the other side of the room. I did not want Alan to see me cry. He reached over to hold my hand but I withdrew myself from him. If he had loved me, surely he would have changed the battery for me by then. 2 weeks is a long time to wait and I had waited for Alan to proof how much he loved me.

‘I love you so much,’ Alan said, reassuring me that everything was okay - that he loved me and that I was just being silly. The more he denied my feelings, the more hurtful everything felt and soon I was convinced that he did not love me anymore.

If he loved me, he would do it for me. How difficult is it to get to the shopping mall to change a damn watch battery? I can do it myself but I want Alan to do it for me. If he does it, it means that he loves me.


The issue became sensitive and I was upset with his behaviour. It was unlike Alan to delay doing something so simple. I set an expiry date for him, 2 full weeks but he did not manage the simplest of tasks set for him. In my eyes, Alan had failed as my partner. He would have done it quickly if I was important to him and since he did not get it done, it only meant that I wasn’t.

I drove to the shopping mall and I fixed the watch. By doing so, I became more angry and upset. I vented my frustration and disappointment on Alan. Oh how my heart bled knowing that the man I loved did not love me enough to even fix a damn leather watch for me.

My heart began to doubt how much love Alan had for me and if he was able to help me through with life. And for a long time, I withdrew myself from him and did not communicate my feelings to him. All Alan did was to cuddle up and kiss me. ‘I love you very much.’


‘Happy birthday, Otto,’ he said. It was a few weeks since the watch incident. By then, I had forgotten what the fuss was about. I was my usual chirpy self and we were celebrating my birthday with a group of friends. It was in an Italian restaurant, now I remember.

After everyone had left and we were alone, Alan passed me a box. It was my birthday present and he asked me to open it. Gleefully I tore open the wrapping paper and opened the box. It was a sweet pink Guess watch, just the kind that I liked. I looked at the Casio watch I wore on my right wrist and then at the pretty watch Alan bought me.

‘Happy birthday, Otto,’ Alan said and then he gave me a peck on my right cheek. And then I understood everything that had happened. Alan secretly bought me a new pink watch when he noticed how old my old Casio was. He wanted to give to me as a surprise birthday present and that explained why he did not change the battery, like I had wished he did.

I gave him a hug and I apologized for what looked like a spoilt child’s behaviour in previous weeks. I looked at my watch and then at the new in the box. It was then that I realised something very important.


Now whenever I open my drawer, I will see the watch. It is the black one, the one that I had changed its battery. The pink watch was misplaced somewhere unknown. And the lesson I learnt is this.

Women often make the mistake of doing everything too hastily. We are taught to be equals and to be independent. Sometimes we are so independent that a man has no opportunity to show his loving side. But what is love other than creating opportunities for that special someone to love and care for you? I learnt to allow a man space and time to show his affections. Not my way but his. Not my time but his. And you know what? These men never failed once.


Tuesday, July 03, 2007
Versions of Reality

“Do you want to go for the Rain Forest Music Festival?” It was at the end of the end, just as we were finishing the buckets of beers, when the prolific painter posted the question. “Good musicians and artists like Anteras will be there. Come on, y’ll. It’s the 10th anniversary.”

The thing about me is I am quite a boring person in real life and if I had to be stuck next to someone for 72 hours, it had to be with someone who would understand me enough not to straggle me. Like MiniBoyFriend R. So I sent him a sms asking if he would like to join me for a weekend in the middle of the rain forest. And we could sit in the bathtub sipping vodka like the good old days.

What were the good old days? They are so distant that it feels faint. All I have now are good new days. Days that are long but exciting. Days that fill me up with happiness. Days that I have selfishly robbed of my lover and days that I spend happy on my own.

To be perfectly honest, I still feel rather vulnerable. Which is why I am not writing much and when I do, the stories are often obscure and light. There are a lot of things going around me at the moment, perhaps moments that I do not wish to bare to the world. It’s easier for me to bare my chicken drumstick thighs than to talk about my private life at the moment.

Though there is something that I would like to share and perhaps the story is an indicator of everything that is happening around me.


You know the big hoohaa over the film The Secret and the subsequent book of the same title? I have always been weary of sales persons and sales tactics, often thinking that they are insincere and rather gimmicky. On the surface, this Secret seemed like positive thinking repackaged for the 2007 folks. There is no such things as a free lunch, so I do not expect the world achieving peace anytime soon with the release of this book.

But like every other sucker out there who is helping the authors get even richer, I bought the book. You have to give credit where it is due. These people conceived the notion of prosperity based on the creation of a book called The Secret. I think they deserve the brand new Jaguar or Aston Martin that they are driving right this moment as I am talking about their book. All of us have 24 hours and they have spent theirs conceiving the book and now reaping the success from their labour.

I bought the book during my last date with MiniBoyFriend R. We went for some coffee and I bought the book because it was on the main table in MPH. Did the book choose me or did I choose the book? I am not sure about who chose who – the book choosing me or I chose the book – but what is certain is that the book had its highs and lows.

No surprises that the book turned out to be positive thinking, dragged out from the 80s closet and repackaged and renamed. Everything is going retro, so why not positive thinking, eh? It spoke about gratitude and giving, which if you look closely, looked ripped of the pages of the Bible. No surprises there either.

What caught me by surprise were some ideas that were suggested within the book. Suddenly I realised that I did a lot of the things that were mentioned in the book, such as visualization exercises. One of my favourite pastime is dreaming up new things – new career, new house, rearranging my dream furniture, what it is like to buy the S40 I saw two weeks ago etc.

I call them games and I play them often. And I play them real. If I opened a business in my head, I had business plans and budgets written out. I would research and check for the possibility and viability of the venture. I would calculate even the success/failure rates, what I could do with the profit etc. It’s an elaborate world in my head and in my mind, I have opened boutiques, jewellery stores, franchise chain of my current business, bars and restaurants.

This game I play in my head is quite unique to myself. None of my friends visualize ideas and dreams as frequent or detailed as I do. So it is no surprise that I am known as the dreamer among my friends. But these dreams and fantasies I created in my mind are very detailed, including colour schemes, furnishing, budget, price per item and staff.

According to the book, one can birth new things in this world by visualizing them. If you want a million, you visualize a million. If you want a slim body, you visualize it into existence. If you want a happy relationship, you imagine how it is like to be in that relationship. The list is endless and limitless.

The other thing that is heavily mentioned is life attitude, which is formed by your core beliefs. These are inter-related and affect your life far greater than you think they do. How you approach life and problems will influence your emotions, which in turn sets the tone for how you deal with various aspects of your daily life. Set in a chain of motion, they will influence each other, either making the day better or worse, depending on your outlook in life.

It caused me to think of my core beliefs. What I hold true in my heart and what I honestly feel about values. How you set your world is how you will experience it. For example, a woman who believes that mushrooms will give her rashes, mushrooms will. Mushrooms will not give anyone else rashes but her. If a man thinks that eating piping hot fried chicken will give him sore throat, eating piping hot fried chicken will. It would not affect anyone else but him.

And for the very same reason, some traditional Chinese will suffer from sore throat when they consume “hot” dishes and coughs from “cold” food. These “laws” do not apply to other races and especially not the Europeans, who find these “laws” alien.

So does this mean that you can smoke 2 packs of cigarettes and live till 75, if you visualize it in your mind every morning and night? I am open to the notion, so please drop me an email if you happen to be this 75 year old healthy man or woman who smoked 2 packs of ciggies for the last 30 years of your life, surviving till your ripe age because of great visualization skills…


And these are my core beliefs. Read them and perhaps you will understand why I am the way I am.

  • I always believed that I will achieve great things in life.

  • I will achieve anything I want to, if I put my heart into it.

  • I blame no one but myself if I failed to achieve something that I desired. It means I had not desired it truly. (refer to #2)

  • I lead a life that is colourful and vibrant – a life that has no regrets and enough stories to keep me smiling when I am old, sitting on a rocking chair.

  • My world is only limited to everything and anything that my mind can conceive.

  • I will write at least one book in my lifetime. (This has now changed to "I am writing at least one book in my lifetime" after reading The Secret.)

  • I will only get better as I grow older.

Everyone believes that they are special. As Freud said, this is the super ego in all of us. But I believe this so strongly that it literally feels as if my whole being is vibrating this frequency. That is the only way I can describe the stirring in my heart.


Life is an illusion. You are whatever you dream to be. It exists only in your version of life and perhaps it is not true for others, only for you. But who cares if it’s pertinent to others or real to others. All that matters is you because at the end of the day, you are the only one who will taste the sweetness or bitterness of your life.

"Everyone wants to feel important. You must remember that.
Even mad people are important in their versions of reality."
~ Otto

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