oceans of me

They take a fiendish delight in breaking broken hearts.

I come to write here just so I don’t lose myself, it’s a physically stabilising factor for me.

I like to think I’m an ocean;
Something too deep to know itself fully.
Something full of undiscovered life and deadness.
Something that heals others while being destroyed, yet still lives on gracefully.
Something that maybe no one actually really needs;

who in respectful, lonely silence, observes from afar the glorious moments of others, such as of a human on his knees before the woman who holds his heart, and not only happy moments, but also willingly take in the sight and sounds of a body, broken, full of tears, coming to her bosom to weep;
who is tasked to carry the darkest secrets of others, innumerable, safely buried forever, deep in her black heart;
who is full of roaring energy, alternating her ebbs and flows, between bursting with childish passion, crashing the best of her against lifeless nothings and a gentle demure demeanour, tamed and reflecting nothing of herself, only the majesty of the sun’s rays at daybreak, just because she hopes, she breathes, she lives;

who in fury, is only allowed to tremble beneath the surface, bearing all the emotions that others lacked, not born with it.
and no one ever sees, or think it matters, when her heart splits open in an inability to hold in her agony.

they say, she’ll get over it.

after all, she’s just an ocean.

//
I’m an ocean, I’m a sea
There’s a world inside of me.

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Midnight child

“Maybe this is a rebellious thing to say… But it takes a really strong and brave person to carry around a heart that feels so much.” @ambernroth

Midnight child,

When clash of voices

And harsh sounds

Goes on,

You envy how time has fun,

playing with the sky.

You feel the tiniest atom

Of emotions that others don’t

And you wonder why.

Midnight child,

Maybe you were born to live

Wanting to die.

first things first

i always feel i should apologize for not writing here but is there a need to if no one even reads it. maybe the one i should apologize to is myself –

on to the post.

November went past in a blur. Busy days, lazy days, happy days, not so happy days. December began. wanted to blog about VBS but curse my lazy fingers, i never got around to doing so. last week was youth camp (theme was First things first: Consider Your Ways, Haggai 1:6-7) and it was fUN. and now it’s almost Christmas, and i thought i should really get to posting something on me blog, mainly for myself, so i’ll never forget the many happy things that has happened.

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FIRST THINGS FIRST this photo makes me so happy. #Protosinmyheart  < i came up with this hashtag on my ig photos but i doubt anyone got the double meaning . Protos was my team name and the first meaning is that my team is in my heart. Protos is also the Greek word for First, so it means #(First)inmyheart. yay im so clever right. joanna. who cares HA.

 

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9/10 of Protos
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3/5 of senior girls
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Ally. made so many jabs at each other for all the time we’ve known each other. but i’m glad we’re friends, and maybe something even more. something like family.

 

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’99 girls with legit the best assistant camp master. 

IM SO SURE he wanted to sleep after finale night but cos we were being a nuisance no we weren’t he took us out for pRATA @ 2AM so touching also cos we weren’t allowed to play games at night on the campsite blah i love my youth leaders cos they care for us spiritually AND outwardly, in the things they do for us, even if it means giving up precious sleep to take us out for prata. best people.

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heart shape heart shape heart shape

best people ever.

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Protos and Rishon!!!!

so much love for yall. This camp was so smooth and peaceful, no fights no crying no arguments no clashes. I think that was the highlight for me; even though there were two teams, the rivalry wasn’t as intense as previous years. and I LIKE. i really truly enjoyed myself those 5 short days.

decisions made, commitments shared. I’m so grateful for HANNAH at the final sharing before we left camp. i’m so glad we were paired up, the considering of our ways, mutual understanding and encouragement. bomb. I love her sm.

i learned so much this year. from devotions, i really learned alot in the small senior girls group. and even from the morning exercise. even though i almost fainted after the first day’s exercise HAHA
sure the exercises were tough but i know they were for my good and it would make me strong. No pain, no gain.

2 more days to Christmas. 8 days to new year and of course. my birthday yas. 17 cycles of 365 days is coming to an end. time to do some emo reflections.

 

Saturday Series: perfect flaws

You’re loving people for their flaws because deep down in your gentle tired heart, you actually want someone to love you for all your flaws.
You hope that by loving them for their visible glaring faults, they might one day, in turn, love you, as unconditionally as you love them, for yours.
Now face it, people in the world don’t think the way you do, and they aren’t as kind-hearted as you.

So stop. Stop loving people for their flaws. Just stop –/

There’s nothing lovable about flaws. You need to learn to accept their faults and character cracks. That’s all. Full stop.
You don’t have to romanticize or balloon their faults to love them.

How about this: Love them for their strengths. Love them for their successes and good points.

And at the same time, you must learn to love yourself. Love yourself for everything you excel in. Find something you’re good at and grow from there. Stop deprecating yourself.
Don’t just focus on your failings.
Think of how much you can love yourself for all your shortcomings if you could love those people for all their despicableness.

Remember, you can never hate yourself into a version you or anyone else will love.

Then, I hope you’ll be able to find the happiness you’ve been pretending to have.

Thursday Thoughts: Now You See It

Don’t you get it?
Pain isn’t invisible.
Pain can be seen.

Pain is the way her heart feels so much she connects her forehead with the unfeeling walls of her room a hundred times over.

Pain is the bleeding hills of knuckles, serrated crimson skin dangling on ends, and a million glass shards carpeting the toilet tiles.

And sometimes pain and confusion, when mixed together, turns into a pile of clothes stashed into a drawstring bag, squashed dollar notes in your pocket and your feet taking you far away from the only place you knew as home.

“I have so many things to say I can’t seem to find the right words to convey what I am really feeling and all the sentences that are about to spill out my mouth feel so inadequate. I know what I want to say but it gets all messed up somewhere in my head. It’s […]