Tears run down my face. The chaos of anger, despair and frustration mix together in a colourful tornado, tearing me apart – leaving me breathless. It is the unfairness of it all, that they’ve left me alone. It could have been different if anyone had cared. Yet they choose to do it this way, and in turn, breaking my heart in the process.

In the moment of solitude, when the quiet pierces my skin, I can feel the tendrils of sorrow slowly wrapping around my heart. Sorrow deftly makes its way around, slowly but surely destroying me. Every so often, it squeezes my heart, reminding me that sorrow remains. It leaves whispers of despair imprinted in my mind, assuring me that there’s nothing for me, that there will never be. Nothing.

Describing the hurt always makes me cry. As if acknowledging it merely opens up a dam within me that has slowly been filling up with pain.

There is a small part of me that speaks up, shouting – there are those that care. Yet it is often drowned out by the persistence of sorrow. Sadness does not care. There is only me, myself and I. Everything else is blurred out into the distance.

I used to carve lines into my skin, the pain pleasing to sorrow. I used to wish I was brave enough to pierce through completely, letting the blood run free, just to see it end. I don’t do it anymore, but when my control slips, in times like these… I just wish, and wish and wish, and I take the blade, the cold against the warmth of my skin–

I can’t even tell anyone, because I do not think they will understand. Even if I did, what can they do?


And that leaves me….


In the silence, I cry.




“The lot is cast into the lap,
    but its every decision is from the Lord.” – Proverbs 16:33

In my eagerness to plan my life, I have forgotten something very important — that it is pointless to worry. I need not force a path to form where it will not. I need not bulldoze my way through walls.

“The heart of man plans his way,
    but the Lord establishes his steps.” – Proverbs 16:9 

He has a plan, far greater than mine will ever be. And it is He who will open doors for me. It is He who will guide me to the path I am meant to walk on.

I can only put forth what I desire, pray over it, and allow Him to lead me to what is right.

It may not be what I want, and there may be many hurdles ahead. Yet, I will continue to worship Him, to be the salt of the earth and light of the world.

“‘For I know the plans I have for you,’ declares the Lord, ‘plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you a hope and a future.'” – Jeremiah 29:11

Here’s to a great adventure ahead of me.




Thank you for reading.




Once again I stand at the crossroads, torn between decisions. I am to choose one road, one path. One choice against the other.

Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—

I am nearing the end of the beginning, and it is time for a new start as a Medical Officer.

Where do I choose to continue my journey as a Doctor?

I find it hard to make a decision, simply because this is a time which may bring forth great change in my life. Either choice has its own set of pros and cons, and I keep mulling about them over and over, wondering which options resonates with me more.

If I am to choose to go back to my hometown, I will be able to spend more time with family. I will be able to see them more often, to drive down the highway and spend the weekend with them.

If I am to choose to stay, I will be amongst wonderful people, in a place of familiarity and comfort. I may also be able to study for MRCP/MRCPCH and perhaps, then opt to go back and get the department that I want.

There are uncertainties with either choice. There may be many twists and turns to either decision. And I can only wonder — will regret chase my every step? Will failure haunt me? Will I dread waking up every morning, will my nights be filled with sorrow?

The decision is made harder by the fact that Sarvin has to make a choice as well. There is no certainty that we will even get the same place, no guarantee that we will end up together.

The future lies ahead, in a grey gloom of unpredictability.

I stand at the crossroads; afraid, uncertain, and in doubt. Which path do I take? Which road do I tread?


I can only pray right now, and pray that He will guide me to the right place.


He has a plan for me, and I will trust in Him.

Please guide me under Your unfaltering hand.


Thank you for reading,




questions – uncertainty

i ignored you then

so you cried, fought me, blamed me

and it was my fault


i pampered you then

yet you cried, fought me, blamed me

once again my fault


so what do i do

when i don’t know what to do

and yet i must know


as no one else knows

they just expect me to know

and i am struggling


do i ignore you

do i try to comfort you

tell me what to do


twenty seventeen

is ending with no answer

but something beckons


step by step we take

us together hand in hand

twenty eighteen calls


it is a new year

and i hope it teaches me

how to care again



Thank you for reading!

Last attempt at poetry for 2017.

Love, Nicole.


Farewell 2017

I begin 2018 alone, just as I did, in the year 2017. In the beginning (or the ending of 2016), it made me melancholic, washed in the throes of sorrow. As if loneliness is synonym to abandonment, as if being alone is synonym to outcast.

I know it is not true, but as my darkest self rages on, caught in the bittersweet moment of endings – it is far too easy to be dragged down in desolation. It is then that I thought that 2017 would be laced with the undercurrents of hopelessness.

No. It was not so.

I had begun 2017 with sorrow, and yet the year 2017 has only been a blessing, with much of God’s grace in my life. He brought so much light into my life, and there were so many times that I would end up being so surprised at the happiness that life could give me.

Yet, it wasn’t as if there weren’t moments of despair, for which there were plenty.

Those were the times when I would pray for God not to test me, not to bring too much pain. “I cannot take it,” I would cry out, I would beg. But ultimately, I survived with His guidance, with the strength He has given me.

And so I would say that I end 2017 with mercy and grace. I end 2017 in quiet exultation, awaiting great things ahead. It is the end of another wonderful year of growth, but the work is not finished yet.

I have not finished learning. I have not finished becoming. I have not finished.

Therefore I declare the year 2018 to be a year of change.

I had been afraid in the year 2017. So frightened of the possibility that I might be consumed by unhappiness, by pain that I prayed for mercy. I could not bear the thought of my heart being broken, much like the years before this.

I will not be afraid in the year 2018.

I will not be afraid for the tumultuous times that will come. For there will be storms, the darkest of nights. If not for those, we will never truly see the brightest of skies.

I will welcome change, I will welcome a metamorphosis.

I will conquer 2018 with His power.

Even as I write those words, they are becoming true; morphing in the space of tomorrow, evolving into absolution.

Silence those fears, and embrace the change to come.

That will be my motto for 2018.

What will be yours?



Thank you for reading! I’m sorry for the sparsity of posts. A resolution for 2018 will be to blog more. And I do hope I keep at it. Anyhoo, thanks for joining me in this journey. Here’s to welcoming the year ahead. Cheers!




“They’re good,” they say,

and they don’t look at me,

“Those ones,” they say,

And that does not include me.


I smile and I nod,

Though deep down I despair,

And here I am, caught,

In jealousy’s filthy lair.


A loud voice whispers,

Sweetly, coursing like poison,

 “Not good enough” lingers,

and with it, desolation.


It’s tearing me apart,

The sin of self-pity.

Never leaving my heart,

The weight of insecurity.


I cannot be free,

Locked in my own design,

Chained to uncertainty,

With jealousy, unkind.


My own apprehension,

My own curse to bear,

It will be my motivation,

To learn not to care.



Thank you for reading,




it rained with tears,

the beat of it drums into my mind,

curling into the darkest corners,

heart twisting, breaking,




sunshine danced,

like joy bursting through every seam,

lighting up lonely rooms,

keeping hope alive,








they were once wrapped around my mind,

curling, unfurling, refusing to leave,

yet not.


days, into weeks, into years,

time becomes an enemy,

and now forgetting is too easy to do,

and memories disappear.


like mist, upon the horizon,

when the sun comes up,

when darkness chases light,

when time passes.


leaving nothing but dewdrops,

leaving nothing but a hint,

just a taste of something missed,

of something once was, and lost.


yet, words upon a page,

the erratic play of it, the chaos, the simplicity,

triggers the taste, the sight, the emotions,

evoking memories,

and once again–



I remember.



Oh, it is so hard to write now. The words don’t come as easily, and I’m more afraid of posting them up. A simple wordy play on memories as I couldn’t quite find the words to turn them into a short story.

This idea came about as I was scrolling through my previous blogs. (I think I’ve had at least 10 blogs to this date, with each created at a certain time in my life.) I was rereading a different blog with posts dating back to 6 years ago, and I found myself reminiscing. I cannot remember certain events clearly anymore, and yet upon rereading old posts, the emotions felt during those moments came rushing back.

Screen Shot 2017-11-16 at 10.23.01 PM


So cliche! So funny! And yet I’ve forgotten about this moment till I reread this. And now I remember, and I cannot believe I had lost this memory.

Writing can be extremely powerful, and I wish I had the drive to write about daily events again. Maybe someday I’ll write about certain impactful memories in the wards, about certain friends that light up each day, about certain painful moments.

And till then, thank you for reading whatever small snippet I choose to post up.

Love, Nicole.


Secret Sessions

Once, I dreamt of nothing.  I could not envisioned myself having that kind of torture. What kind of person would put themselves through that kind of pain, I questioned. I did not understand. Nor did I want to understand.

And as the years went by, and as people began to hurt themselves, or to heal themselves with this particular defining moment – I wonder, will I be next?

Yes, yes I was. It was then that I slowly learnt that while it may be torture, it did bring joy. It brought some life into me, and a confidence I did not expect. It is as though there is freedom through chains.

Now I’ve made a choice, a choice to break free from the norm. And with it I find judgemental and shocking retaliations from close friends. It hurt me for a moment, and with it came loneliness. Am I really alone in this stand?

It is difficult for me to talk about it because I do not know who would truly understand. And so, I will keep silent, and continue to do so despite my discomfort. After all, loose lips sinks ships.

In any case, Step 1 is ready, and onward to Step 2. The preparation that comes will be long and tiring, but I will be ready. My dreams has changed since then, and there will be more than nothing beyond this horizon.

Perhaps one day I’ll be brave enough to talk about what has changed. Till then, there is only the exercise of secrecy.



Occasionally I reread drafts in my writing folder and I wonder – did I really write this? 

There are times I cringe at my horrible writing, and then there are times where I go – holy shit I wrote this? When? How? And why did I stop? 

Today I read something interesting that I wrote that was apparently the prologue for a new novel I was planning for. Unfortunately I have lost most of my files for that particular idea and so I have no idea what I was thinking then, and what I wanted to do with it, haha!

Oh well, I would have procrastinated from writing it anyway.

This just goes to show that I should continue writing little by little everyday, even if it is a 50 word story. Skills rust with disuse, and I do not want to lose this small skill that I have.

So yes, maybe to more writing? (And now writing is an escape from studying for exams – oh self, why you gotta be this way.)

Thank you for reading.

Love, Nicole.

Hari Malaysia 2017

It’s been a while since I’ve written anything. As always, when exams are approaching, that’s when ideas come pouring out. I’ve many pending works, most of my stories incomplete on that writing website. Mirror Madness is on hold, and suddenly I’ve been itching to write Zanefier’s story once again. (Zanefier being the lead character in the very first novel that I attempted to write. I miss her.)

Today I was wasting time on Facebook, procrastinating from studying when I saw a mini competition – to write on what it means to be Malaysian. Once upon a time, I wrote a story for MPH on Being Malaysian and won the consolation prize. It struck me with nostalgia (coincidentally the name of my story haha!) and I decided to write a short piece on what being Malaysian means to me now as an adult. It’s only about 150++ words because I’m very rusty and also because the mini competition only asked for about 100-200 words. It’s nothing much – but perhaps it is the start to a writing frenzy.

Anyway, here it is!

Continue reading “Hari Malaysia 2017”