I never did deserve you

I wake up to yet another text from you. You say you're undeserving, and truth is, we both are. I may not be the perfect girlfriend but I tried and I tried so hard, I forgot to see if you were trying too.

You see, I never did deserve you. I don't deserve someone who doesn't bother to know my favourite colour, my favourite flower or my favourite place. I don't deserve someone who constantly forgets my food allergy, my dislike for milk and my birthday (it's as simple as 11/11, seriously?). I don't deserve waiting for hours at a time for text replies every other time. I don't deserve always being the second option to understandably family and friends but more hurtingly, a pretty stranger or the one that got away. I don't deserve subjecting my family to your opinions and they don't deserve to see me upset. I don't deserve someone who expects me to be there 24/7 when I know I cannot count on you at all. Most of all, for someone who supported you through all your fickle-mindedness and second guesses, I never did deserve for you to put down my biggest ambition of opening a cafe simply because "babe there are so many cafes in Singapore already".

I can, and have always been, overlooking the small superficial matters. Prawns in the steamboat pot again, aimless odd jobs, silly tantrums and dates with everyone else but your girlfriend. And for awhile it was okay to be second or third, as along as I was still on the list of things to remember at the end of the day. But it isnt okay when you put down the things and people that matters the most to me because you know how hard I work for it all. And it definitely isn't okay to be asking for second chances when we are both this undeserving.

How am I ever to deserve someone like you, who constantly makes me feel this way?

11/11

Another year, another number. Had a lovely weekend. Great food, even better company. Just extremely glad I didn't have to spend this year waiting at the airport for my family to fly in. And so humbled with the reminder that I've such brilliant friends, that those who matter most are still around even after I disappeared for half a year.

Aite, festivities aside, time to grow up. Cheers to constants and better mistakes.

we're slow dancing in a burning room

I guess at the end of the day, what is most important will, more often than not, be left unsaid. 

Because you see, words diminish intentions. I think of you and I remember how we met or the little things you do like hold open doors for me, feed me the best/last part of your meal or carry me despite you being tired. I almost forget what it's like to hold your hand or how safe I feel in your arms, tracing the spectrum of colours with my fingertips, right up until Im losing my shit in silly situations like blood tests and injections. And all these swell up to this longing but all I can afford to muster is; I miss you. 

Except "I miss you" just doesn't cut it, does it. 

I will constantly be a mess of impulse, stubbornness and capricious whims. You will never fully understand the copious ways in which I behave and I will never be able to find the words help you try. 

sufficient

The thing about seeking perfection, I've come to realise, is that perfection comes only when you stop looking for it. So many times, I've reached a point where I've had to convince myself that, maybe this is it, maybe it isnt attainable. Then give it anything ranging from a few days to a few months, it would dawn on me that what I already have, is perfect enough. 

I dont need to constantly come up tops. I dont need to always be first. What I do want is knowing I've tried my best, and if it in some way concerns anyone else, that me giving my best is enough. Because we both know that I wouldnt bother with anything that doesnt matter to me, but when it does, I put every bit of myself into it. 

When you try too hard at anything, trying eventually leads to forcing. And forcing is just a constant roller coaster ride of feeling insufficient, paranoia and sometimes, desperation. Its dwindles down what you started off enjoying to a constant struggle of trying to prove your worth. 

And nobody deserves to be subjected to the need to prove themselves constantly. 

It seems easy to say it, and if you really get down to it, it is alot easier to do too. I just need to know that trying my best and giving my all is enough, regardless of what I may or may not achieve. That me being enough is sufficient. And that sufficient could very well be perfect. 

Will you still love me in the morning?

It is easy to love me when you see me working. It is easy because I do what I do with passion and pride. I work hard to be good at it, and I won't be the only person who knows I am. It won't be easy when after 12 straight hours in heels, my humility and patience spent, I am tired and whining. Will you still love me then?

It is easy to love me when I've just won a game or collected my finisher's medal after a marathon. It is easy because with face lit up with that smile, bordering close to silly, and brimming with adrenalin and pride, it is hard not to feel satisfied seeing someone so satisfied. It wont be easy though, in the weeks before leading up to that. When I stubbornly overwork my body out, when I am aching and wallowing in self pity or the times when I beat myself up over falling short. Will you still love me then?

It is easy to love me when you see me cooking or when I surprise you with your favourite meal or something random with hopes of brightening up your day. It is easy because you know how much effort and love comes with these acts and how I spend too much time deciding on what is perfect enough to give to someone perfect. It wont be easy when I second guess my recipes sometimes or feel insecure when I try out something new. It wont be easy when you see that crestfallen face of mine, when I sheepishly admit to burning my cakes or cookies a little, or when I find out the congee I spent the entire morning making is way too salty. Will you still love me then?

It is easy to love me when I make the effort to look good for you when we're out. It is easy because it's only human to forget the obligation of calling someone yours, works with the fact that I'd very much like to call you mine too. It will be way too easy with the combination of our friends' laughter and booze. It wont be easy however, when I give my drinking capabilities too much credit, and I am kneeling over regugitating my guts out. I will push you away both physically and with my temper, but we both know secretly all I want/need is for you to stay. You wont understand me and neither will I. Will you still love me then? 

It is easy to love me when you're upset or mad at something and I am trying to cool you down by your side. It is easy because we both know you probably may never find anyone with as much patience, care, understanding and maturity as I do. But it wont be easy when the tables are turned and I am the one that needs cajoling. You will not understand how I went from perfectly mature to unbelievably childish and uncouth. I will get insecure. I will get needy. I will need you. I dont know, but will you still love me then? 

It is easy to love me when the day is through. When everyone has come and gone and you dont need to tuck yourself into bed. It is easy because while you may want to be alone, you dont want to be lonely. Plus nobody ever says no to goodnight kisses and cuddles. But when the new day starts and you're tempted with so many other opportunities, will you still love me then?

Will you still love me in the morning?

Hold your head high, heavy heart.

Making it through a foreign country alone for half a year does not equate to being able to make it through everything alone, but if I could do it once, Im sure I'll be able to do it again. Im just sore and upset that I let this happen yet again. Do you know how much it hurts to know after giving so much that you're still not enough?

One too many lessons learnt. Never settle for someone who doesnt want to settle for you, Jill.

Things I cannot be more thankful for:

1. As superficial as it is to top my list, wifi. I no longer have to luge my laptop down to the shitty pool in my apartment to snitch on someone else's password whilst feeding the mozzies late at night. Instead here I am, snug in my bed.
     
2. My nice cosy home, and by home I dont just mean this flat. I mean family. Sure there's a lot I guessed I missed out on while I was away but we're still together and that is all that matters.
      
3. A great job. Albeit temporary and sometimes fluctuating hours, it pays (so) well and Im so thankful I've actually found something I like doing.
       
4. My sore gluts and aching hamstrings. I still cannot believe Ezza hooked me up with contact training. God knows how much I miss playing rugby. There's so much for me to keep up with but I will train hard.
        
5. Getting down to applying for Uni. Regardless of whether it is the best time, best course or best reason; but the fact that I did it independently because I decided to do it.
       
6. My food baby. I love food and there will come a time very soon (tomorrow morning) where I have to stop binge eating but that will be on my own accord, and deep down I am thankful that I know I can afford to eat whatever I want because Im not broke and Im not unhealthily obese either.
        
7. Actually being enough for once to be pampered silly for the past two weeks.
       
8. Knowing not everyone changes with time / distance. The friends that matters most are still the lovely annoying bunch even though I've missed out on so much the past half a year.
       
9. Remembering to count my blessings and having the wisdom to know who deserves a share of mine, however much it will hurt initially. 

Chocolate stained, doodled ambitions

Where do ambitions go when they die?

Was clearing out my room and I found my old diaries and obviously nostalgia got the better of me, like it always does. The amount of recipes I found made my heart ache. (Anyone who knows me would know that  I have this obsession with taking a recipe and tweaking it over and over again until I can deem it "perfect".) With each page of my stained scribblings - notes added for each time I tweaked it - that I flipped, I died a little. The breaking point was chancing upon my recipe for the cooking competition I was in.

Besides the guy I was dating then (I was such a wreck), my secondary school diary was filled with hopes of picking up a Culinary diploma when I graduated and eventually opening my own cafe. That did not happen. My early semesters in poly was filled with all sorts of baking recipes, prominently one for each of my touch teammates for their birthdays. I also had recipes for picnics that I so badly wanted to perfect. But perfection never did happen too.

In fact, none of my chocolate stained, doodled ambitions happened. It died bit by bit with crazy grocery bills, tests, trainings, dates, failed food blogs (ha ha, this one just kills me), those times I second guessed myself and even more, all the times I just fell short.

Dont get me wrong. I still adore cooking. I still think I can cook fairly above average for someone who has never had Culinary as a core, and I (humbly) know I am not the only one who thinks this way. Neither am I wallowing in self pity.

It's just being in Langkawi forced me to think a lot more practically and I reached the point in my life where Im about to graduate, had to deal with living alone for the first time in my life in some foreign country for 6 months, and also basically pick the path that would make or break my future...

... and I'd consciously decided cooking isnt it. For awhile I could ignore it and maybe even forget to remember, but you never really forget things you pour your soul out for. I had such big dreams. Nobody can fully comprehend how much I love being in the kitchen. When I was in Langkawi and I felt alone, I'd think of the top things that make me happy and along the lines of my parents and rugby, was being at Josh's cooking for the boys and that ridiculous adrenaline of attempting to cook alone, too much for too many people for just a single picnic.

As much as Im hurt, I dont quite know if Im disappointed or relieved (that I can now confidentially sort my piorities). I'd still cook but all those hopes of a cafe and pursuing it as a career, just seems... hazy. I know I got alot better from when I first started and I know there's still so much more I can do. But maybe now isnt it. Or maybe I'll never get down to finding time for it. Like how I was always never enough - regardless financially, with time, or just being insecure with how well I can actually cook. ):

No, seriously. Where do ambitions go when they die?