I wake up each day, thinking this time it would be different
That this time, for once, I wouldn’t have my mid-week meltdown
That I wouldn’t call in sick when really, it’s my mind that’s ailing
That it isn’t the flu, it’s my anxiety
That this is not a disease, but a disorder
Which orders me into this cycle of hiding, fighting and failing
Falling flat on my face and dignity
On the pillow, muffling my sobs
Each time I stay in, give in and sleep it off
A guest post.
You know, there was this girl once.
I used to like her a lot, not in a romantic way, but I did have a deep love for her, and I like to think that she liked me too. We had all these great childhood memories together, memories of us dancing in the rain in the backyard, of our fair visits and doing all the scary rides and eating cotton candy later on, of reading books or playing in our den under the blanket, and of building our tree house and chasing away every intruder.
A guest post.
We are born into stories. Since time immemorial and the days around the campfire, we have been telling stories. Some stories we carry with us about who we are and what is important for us and we build connections by re-telling these stories. This journal is a canvas for documenting these life stories. It offers you a space to jot down or doodle those small things that get you happy, content, and joyful. And yes, it may be from any story of your life or something that you saw or felt. It can be as vivid as reliving a childhood memory, rewinding your favourite playlist, scrawling words that you hold close or even illustrating secret maps to your hidden wafer packets.
A guest post.
Under our Mental Health Campaign, we provide aid to people in many ways such as counselling, support group and the buddy system.
A guest post.
Begun with a bang,
Still dreaming about a mustang,
Not yet woke,
Oh this poor bloke.
A guest post.
There’s no answer to whether it is a good thing or a bad thing to be merely okay. On some days, that’s all we have. We have to make do. Okay is not necessarily a comfortable space. For me, it definitely isn’t. It is weird, platonic, a straight line.
