Sometimes when I close my eyes, or when I daydream – maybe in class, or in the car, or even during a prayer – I picture someone fighting. He brandishes a sword, or he catches arrows on his shield, or he draws a bow. Sometimes I am watching him do it. Sometimes I am him. I used to think it was just the childish side of me – the one that played with figurines and fake swords as a kid and watched WWE as a teenager. But I am beginning to wonder if it is not something more.

Is there something in me that is just perpetually restless? That person never ceases his battle. Every time he is conjured he takes up his arms again. Now a longsword, now a dagger. What exactly is he fighting? Where do these imagined enemies spring from? Wait. Not he, perhaps. I?

Yes, I. Always poised, always tense. From one battle to the next, like a never ending RPG. I am a fighter, I am a warrior. I sweat and I bleed. I shout my cry and I raise my sword. No.

I am weak. He who is strong fights once and never needs to fight again. He vanquishes his enemies and they stay gone. He lives in the peace he was won. But the one who keeps fighting is weak. He is desperate – like a cornered animal that bears its teeth at everything to survive. That desperation keeps him fighting, even if his enemies are not real.

Whenever I watch shows, I find it ridiculous that the protagonist almost never falls. He might get shot in the shoulder, or take stab in the gut, but it never is fatal. What kind of luck is that? That doesn’t happen in real life. The fighter eventually gets defeated. He gets tired and he slows. He allows a gap in his defences. He punches but he misses. He who lives by the sword dies by the sword.

But thankfully this is not real life. We tend to be stronger mentally than we are physically. Our minds and our hearts can get beat down time and again but we can always get up. If this is an endless RPG, at least there seems to be limitless lives. Wounds can be bound, armour can be repaired, weapons can be reforged. But even this process of constant revival is itself a battle. A battle of attrition. And against the world, our resources will run out first. One day the fighter will get struck down. And he might stay down. Then he will discard his arms. He will take off his helmet and drop it into the dirt. He will lower his eyes, and never raise them again. His enemies will disappear – but that doesn’t matter any more. Nothing does at this point. At this point, the fighter is defeated.

Wait. Not he. I


Here was safe.

Something short that I wrote.

“My clothes hung about me, all black and grey. The cupboard was surprisingly spacious, even for me. I adjusted my feet and found that the flooring was a little dusty. I made a mental note to clean it sometime. Meanwhile, my eyes adjusted. The dark fell upon my skin softly, like the embrace of a lover. Only a tiny slit of light invaded through the gap between the doors. I regretted not switching the light off. It was too late to do so now. I wouldn’t be able to bear being outside. I might fall and be paralyzed on the way to the switch, or break into tears. No, here was good. Here was safe. Here the world didn’t touch me, and I didn’t touch the world. There was only the darkness, my clothes, and me.

Suddenly, my ears noticed my fast breathing. Somehow no matter how much air I gulped I still felt short, as if the air flowed through my throat and disappeared through a hole in the back of my neck. I took a deep breath, and felt marginally better – although my lungs still felt empty. I wondered how long I coud stay here. Maybe I would sleep here. Maybe I could survive simply on gulping air and drinking in the infinite darkness, and remain here forever, till I fade into the blackness. But there was the problem of the light. As long as it kept shining I will never be at ease. I needed to switch it off. Bright and piercing, it called to me. Mocked me. Challenged me. But no. Here was good. Here was safe. Here I felt ready to cry and to bleed.”



Something new is arising. Greater heights, richer depths. Gone is the darkness of self-pity, melancholy, doubt, fear, and captivity. One step at time, a mustard seed of faith.


I have always been cognizant of the fact that my posts are often short and slightly cryptic. It is not my wish to portray myself as a mysterious poetic soul, but I suppose it is only when I am in such mysterious poetic moods that I feel the compulsion to post something. And in these moods I often do much rumination and pondering, which produce distilled sentiments, images, or words, which then go into my post as the vague ramblings of a madman.

This is an effort to depart from that tendency.

The new year is again upon us, whether we like it or not. I, for one, care little about new year resolutions. Besides the fact that it has just become a cool thing to post on your social media more than an actual resolution to keep to, I don’t see why the new year alone in particular is deserving of new resolutions, and not any other time. Why not the 17th of July? Or the 15th of October? In a sense, everyone should be resolving to make resolutions (hurhur) all the time, because that means you are always thinking about what to change in your life to become a better person, and you are always aware of the seasons you are in.

Nevertheless, I do find myself to be forming some sort of resolutions in my head, not because of the new year per se, but because thoughts have been gathering and gaining momentum in my mind. As of yet, they have remained as vague impressions and desires, not “resolutions” as one might see in a list on a Facebook post. Therefore, with the aim of crystallising them, I shall attempt to delineate them here.

1. “The Lord is my Shepherd, I shall not be in want.”

It was recently impressed upon my heart the richness of this line which we often recite but gloss over. Sure, this is an encouragement and a promise. It makes us feel safe and at peace. But I think that with it also comes a call. A call to trust. A call to be His sheep. The Lord is my Shepherd. Do I trust that He is my Shepherd? That wherever He leads me is good for me? Will I follow in faith? Will I look to nothing else? I shall not be in want. Is God enough for me? Do I trust that He will provide, if I walk in His will? Is He my spring of living water, or do I dig empty cisterns? To know this truth is to follow God wholeheartedly, with utter devotion, with complete faith. In the immediate, this would apply largely to my first graded semester. I hope to walk in this truth – to live in obedience according to His purposes, and not chase after grades, or friends, or men’s favour.

2. Without holiness, no one will see the Lord.

There are times when you read a verse that you know you have definitely read before, but it seems totally foreign and new. This was one of those times. All of those times that I came across it, it never hit me. Without holiness, no one will see the Lord. Do you struggle with seeing God’s face, in experience His presence, His love, His power, His grace? I do. And I have realised how importance the pursuit of holiness is. So pursue, I will.

3. Pray

This has been on my Life’s To-do List for a while now, and I suppose that’s not necessarily a bad thing in itself – we should always be wanting to pray and pray and pray. But I think that despite me knowing I need to do it, I find myself not making headway in living the prayerful life. Somewhere down the line I stopped having my personal retreats, I stopped my fasting, I stopped praying throughout the day. Basically I allowed myself to forget how important praying is. But my desire is not just to go back to where I was, but to surpass that. I want the joy of praying, the delight in communion with the Father, that constant awareness of His presence with me, the alignment of my will to His, and the peace and assurance that comes with all of that.


There we go. I have a set of new year resolutions, and a lengthy and comprehensible post in proper prose format. I am cool now.



The vase has begun to slip

I gasp in horror.


I will fight every step.


But if it falls

I think I will be staring

At the shards at my feet