Ma, matha

Your eyes are your truth-tellers.

You never really had a poker face.

Your brows furrow or your eyes light up or your lips part as if to say something.

You sometimes try to hold a blank look when you’re mad and don’t want to talk to us.

Showing us how empty our lives would be without your voice to carry us through it.

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Why I write

Writing has such a freedom associated with it. It’s a form of expression but also reflection.

The most fervently written pieces always followed some self-deemed traumatic event: a sudden breakup, discovering a cheating partner, feeling lost in the world, searching for value, returning from travels feeling like a self-anointed guru or simply to understand that nagging sense of loneliness.

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Eye on the Storm

I’m scheduled to fly to Bali and Singapore in 11 days. I’ve been anxious about the trip for the past two weeks and every good day is followed by a bad day. From thinking the virus would be contained to learning about its spread to Shanghai to discovering that masks aren’t sufficient protection on a five to fifteen hour flight out of Shanghai.

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Never drinking again

What was supposed to be a casual night out with two to three drinks turned out to be a night of red wine chugs and fancy, surprise-me cocktails, led to a swirling brain on route home with me naively hoping a quick throw up and some deep sleep would solve all problems.

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Comparative Wisdom

We’re constantly comparing ourselves to others, whether it’s an Instagram highlight, or a magazine cover, or he-said-she-said travel stories, and sadly sometimes even a career high. And often we listen to these stories with 10 per cent awe and inspiration and 90 per cent jealousy/wonder as to “why can’t I also be doing that?”. It’s time to reverse those percentages.

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