You knew it, but you didn't do anything about it. So, am I to take the blame for it now?
---

I'm always the one being used isn't it? Since I don't say anything about it.

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Graduating from choir, never occurred to me that I'd feel this way. 6 years in the journey together, fighting and working our way all the way till now. We've had our quarrels, we've had our tears, we've had our laughter. We made music together. I think I have somewhat a love-hate relationship with choir. Okay, maybe not so the hate part, but sometimes I do feel tired. Yet on Friday, during games, that warmth rushed through me, the same familiar warmth I once had. And I loved choir all over again. The touching medley by the juniors activated my already-very-active tear glands.
Handing down never felt so different. From the tear-jerkers in Secondary School, to one of such mixed feelings in Senior High. It's difficult to express myself with just mere words, to translate my feelings into text. I'll miss feeling that excitement or dread going for choir, staying back late and walking down dark corridors together, singing as we walked along side each other and all that beautiful memories we had together as one DHSChoir family.
Thank you, choir.


Year 6s - Thank you for this wonderful journey together for these past 4 to 6 years. I'll definitely miss all the times we had together, from emoing together, to laughing together, chasing each other (literally) *stares at tricia and minjie*, being BONDED together, being CRAZY together (+20 points! HAHA). Certainly, working together with you guys have really been an unforgettable experience. Thank you, for always giving me all that support and encouragement even though I did a bad job at times. It was you guys that made me have the confidence to do what I was afraid of. Love you all (:

I'm probably slowly starting to let you go.

I'm confused.

Love and hate, separated only by that thin line.

She wiped her tears away, and told herself to be strong. She turned to look at him, and she crumbled all over again. She felt those stabs of pain in her heart. She ran, and ran, and ran. Hidden from the light, she poured her heart out to the shadows.

When I saw this image, I was immediately reminded of a friend. Or should I say, acquaintance? He was a great friend. Even though our friendship didn't last for more than 2 months, I think it left me great memories. Happy 18th, friend. He was special in his very own way. He wasn't like many others I knew. His idea of happiness was simple, and he was so innocent. He was a dreamer. I remember what he used to share with me and how he was always so happy about his dream-land. He taught me to be happy over the simplest of things. He taught me the power of innocence. He was a sincere, caring friend. He lifted me up right at the point when I was crashing. Thank you. But our friendship wasn't meant to last.

Dear friend, thank you for your friendship. An underground friendship.
I know you're happy now, and I'm glad for you. Even though we're practically like strangers now, I thank you for leaving with me the memories. I sure hope you had a joyous eighteenth. Dream-time is nearly over. Here's wishing you much happiness.

Be happy, alright?

P.S. This post is one day late.

Slowly, bit by bit, that fire is extinguishing.

I'm the sole protector,
of a heart that's been abused.