PenPractice, Prose, Shorts, Thoughts, thoughts

Happy New Year – Version 2.0.26

I’ve been meaning to put something down for a while now (like for the last three months) but whenever I open up the blog to post, I get hit with a lot of emotions at once after which I find myself closing down the webpage and getting on with whatever I was doing before.

To tell a story, being the storywriter I imagine myself to be… When I still lived with my parents, the Christmas tree and decorations tended to only go up when we got close to the actual day itself, for differing reasons of course. Some days, I wouldn’t want to do it because I knew it was mostly expected from me. Other days, my siblings would ignore it for the same reason. It was only when my mother would put her foot down that we then proceeded to accomplish said task.

The kicker to the story though is that… we exhibited the same action after Christmas was over and it was time for the tree and the decorations to come down. I wouldn’t want to do it. My siblings wouldn’t want to do it. And the game of hopscotch continues until we’re halfway through January of the new year and our house is still lit up like air traffic control is having a party.

Alexa play “La Da Dee La Da Da”

Bad joke, I know… Potentially bad story time as well but stay with me here.

When I was younger, it was because I just didn’t want to do the work, to be honest. Sometimes, laziness, sometimes I wanted the whole house to be involved and for it not to be something started and finished by me which had occurred a few times. Not that it was justified, but I was young. It made some sense to me then.

As an adult, however… most times, it’s because I just don’t have the mental capacity or bandwidth to extend myself to the task. More often than not, it’s also because said task is coming after a series of disappointing results to desperate efforts. So, instead of pushing through, I wallow and wait until I balance out. Which is sometimes faster than expected and other times, slower than needed. Just to be clear, in case I lost you there for a second, this is not about christmas trees anymore.

Still, to bring it all back around. 2025 has been a good year. Better than a good chunk of my adult years but not quite where I want it to be. Honestly? I’m pretty happy about the result. Life is mostly good. Things are mostly balanced. The future looks honestly cool. But then, the negative feelings peek out and then, I just stop doing things because I don’t have the mental capacity to be productive.

Even now, I feel it. A wave of disappointment, displeasure and the general vibe that the year, while a good year in most aspects, didn’t quite turn out like I also wanted. I am forced to reconcile with the fact that I haven’t done or achieved some of the things that I hoped I would have done this year.

But that’s the crux of adulthood, isn’t it? Shifting priorities and responsibilities and hoping in some divine way that one of the planned things actually come to fruition?

Maybe it’s all in my head and I’m being too hard on myself.

In any case.

I watched a few more movies this year than planned, though most of them has been my wife dragging me into the intricacies of K-Dramas and they are great! Capital G. Also got into a bit more into podcasts as well, some of my favourites being “What Now with Trevor Noah“, “Challenge Player 1” and “The Nosleep Podcast“, thought the latter has been a favourite for a while.

I haven’t read as much books as I hoped (audible aside). I’d like to get back into more physical book reading. Maybe that will help me finally finish writing my own books or something of the sort. Of course, if you have great suggestions from authors you love, this is the best time to tell me so!

  • Beta is complete. Just editing and re-editing to resolve some threads from Alpha and successfully open new ones going into the final book.
  • DeathBringer hasn’t found an agent or a publisher yet, but hopefully, we’ll capture some eyes in the coming year.
  • I have a few new stories in the works (and in the works, I mean in my head. One of them might show up on this website soon, so please stay tuned).
  • Some of the projects I’m doing with friends is progressing well so hopefully I can brag about the hobby next year as well but… you know… I’m still shy and stuff.

All in all, it honestly has been a good year, regardless of whatever personal emotions might want to say on the matter. On to a better one.

Happy New Year, 2026
Anxiety, Emotion, Fiction, Love, Pain, PenPractice, Poem, thoughts

Lie To Me

“He loves us…
Can’t you see it?

Him professing his every love for us
Without even trying to make us official
Because we’re already official,
Can’t you see it?

All the midnight trysts,
Hotel visits,
And subtle holidays,
The nicknames, fake names and
Fake appointments.

Why else would he try so much,
If we don’t mean so much to his enjoyment?

He called us his ever after,
Always after,
Everything else in his life
So that he can spend time with us.

If that’s not love,
Then what is?”

“It’s alright…

We’re alright.

I mean, we’re not happy
But we’re not sad,
We’re just ‘there’ dealing with issues,
Not so different from anyone else, right?

It’s not a big deal,
Not even a deal at all,
Just human with human emotions
And dark thoughts filling the ether

Other than which,
We are pretty standard
So no use talking about it
With someone else
Or even yourself in the mirror.

It’s alright…”

“So what?
She broke up with us,
So what?

She doesn’t deserve us,
If anything, she’s lost us.
Lost access to the magnificence that is us,
The sheer brilliance that we offer.

I mean, sure, we might not ‘love’ again
But what is love anyway?
What good did it do us?

Its a useless emotion.
A weak feeling professed by idiots
And we’re better off without it.

I mean, sure,
some Hearts might be broken along the way
But as long as we get our fun
What business is it to us?

We don’t need her.
We have us.

We are alright… right?”

Poem, Prose, Shorts

A Letter To You

I want to write you a letter.

At first the feeling dawned upon me like sweet morning dew gracing the beautiful green of trees and plants everywhere. The colours became clearer, the sounds became sharper, and deep within me, I knew I was dead certain that I want to write you a letter.

But I am stuck.

You see, I find myself dangling on the edge of possibilities of what the letter could entail just for you, but still left indecisive as to what would be best.

Do I write to lift your spirit up? To tell you how life, while complex in itself, is simple when left in the hands of your Creator? To motivate, teach, push and assist you through all that might hinder your progress? I recall the day we spoke last, about dreams and goals and I recall you being just as indecisive as I am right now. You remained unsure as to what path to take. Thinking back, maybe I should have nudged you down what I thought would have been better for you. Then again, I wonder… would you have been offended if I did that? I don’t know. Hindsight.

Do I write to describe and display my vulnerability to you? give you the potential to wound me deep with your pen and word? Do I tell you the things that make me weak? the things that make me afraid? Do you remember when we had the discussion we had about the mistake I made when I was relatively young and naive? I had gotten so relaxed in flesh that I didn’t see the pitfall in front of me. My goodness, did I fall.

It’s all hilarious now when I look back, but my goodness was I afraid. Of consequences, of future, of self. Hindsight.

Do I write to address the issues of the heart and how I feel about you? Will you accept it this second time round? Will you forgive me for writing it, as opposed to saying it? Because my oral articulation suffers when incoherence sets in from anxiety pressure. We did this dance once, back when we were younger. Maybe I shouldn’t write it, as that led to you raising me up from my metaphorical knee and softly rejecting my advances. Maybe I’m still naive. Maybe it’s not meant to be. Maybe it was fleeting.

As more possibilities cloud my thought-space, I find myself still considering what would best be put in the letter that you’d read addressed from me.

I’m still unsure as I realise I can write about the dreams I dream about.

I can write about the fantasies I play out in my head, all colourful, diverse and ultimately expensive enough to demand a hollywood budget.

I can write about my memories and show you how much nostalgia I carry within this body of mine.

or maybe…

…maybe I should write to leave a piece of myself with you.

Can I…? Can I write a letter to you to remember me by? A letter to leave a piece of myself with you, should the day come when I am gone and ‘we’ are no more…

The future is always filled with uncertainty, so I can’t promise I’ll always be here, no matter how much I will love to be. Having lost a lot of friendships along the way, I can’t guarantee the same won’t happen to us.

It may even be out of my hands, as everything the Creator wills, happens for a reason.

I think I’m going to write a letter to you.

I just don’t think you will see it.