Blog

In the noise of wheels,
ringing bicycles,
chairs gone missing
and people moving too fast,
I still arrived.
I carried tea warmth
inside tired hands,
held my headache quietly,
and folded myself back into the day
again and again.
Across the workshop,
between cotton boxes, stickers,
laughter, teasing,
and crowded tables,
there were small moments
that stayed soft.
A quiet thumbs up.
A murmured “go.”
A fist bump before home time.
Not loud.
Not dramatic.
But real enough
for my tired heart to notice.
I kept working
even...

In the morning, the day already felt heavy. I woke up at 6am and prepared gouqizi, lavender tea and my medicine from the doctor. The cordyceps finished already so I prepared chicken essence to put inside the drawer. I was still angry from earlier incidents and honestly a bit afraid of myself when I become too angry. I prepared my clothes for Wednesday and tried to settle myself before going out with my mother for hair treatment.
My mother kept telling me what to do in the morning and saying we...

This morning began slower, softer.
I woke up at 7am, after about 7 hours and 20 minutes of sleep.
There was a quiet rhythm to everything — preparing gouqizi and matcha, brushing my teeth, bathing, getting ready step by step.
My mum went out for a while while I was in the middle of my routine.
I took out my own breakfast — a sardine puff — and ate on my own.
There was a small craving for McDonald’s,
but I let it pass.
Not everything needs to be acted on.
The morning felt calm.
Simple.
Manageable.

Later,...

The morning began gently,
with a message carried through care.
If it rains, close the window.
A small responsibility,
a quiet trust placed into my hands.
I woke at seven.
The house slowly came alive
the hum of the vacuum,
the soft rhythm of routine.
Gouqizi in a cup,
matcha swirling into green calm.
Clothes folded,
Tuesday prepared in advance,
as if reaching softly into the future.
There were small slips.
Ling zhi powder falling where it shouldn’t,
hands trying to gather what scattered.
Not everything stayed...

The morning began slowly, wrapped in heaviness.
Even the sound of the alarm felt distant, like something calling from far away.
It took time to rise.
Small routines followed—warm drinks, quiet preparation, familiar motions that gently carried the day forward.
Outside, the world felt a little crowded.
Movements crossed paths, bodies brushed past, moments slightly out of sync.
A step here, a bump there—nothing major, yet enough to be felt.
At the hospital, the air shifted.
Conversations became more...

This morning began in quiet effort.
A slow rise from bed, a warm drink in hand,
small routines held together like threads of calm
before the world began to move too quickly.
There was rushing today.
Missed steps, missed buses,
feet moving faster than thoughts could settle.
Doors closed too quickly,
wheels passed too close,
and the body kept adjusting, dodging, continuing.
It felt like a day of almosts.
Almost getting hit.
Almost being late.
Almost losing balance in more ways than one.
And yet, the day did...

This morning began earlier than the light.
There was a quiet effort in preparing for the day — warm drinks, small routines, and a body that did not feel entirely at ease.
Outside, the world moved quickly.
There were footsteps, wheels, and sudden sounds.
Bicycles passed too close, voices rose and fell, and laughter echoed in ways that felt uncertain.
It was not always clear what was meant or who it was for, but the heart stayed alert, learning how to move carefully through crowded spaces.
Even in...

6am flu in my bones,
Mum's why phone while her screen glows,
Did not get lunch i want but chose another
Dad words, concentrate,
I tucked it like medicine
An eww flew past,
A snatch, a stare, a pram too fast
Mum said sorry to cleaner,
I could not talk
Bus 53, Annabeth mispronounced
May is coming, names are hard,
We all fumble
Mum said Celine,
That's my name.
I don't want to but texted anyway
Trainers didn't care but my peace didn't sway.
Slow by cars, my fear
I looked at mum with hatred
No one's pure and...

This morning began before the sun,
at a quiet hour where the body still felt yesterday.
There were echoes carried into the new day,
words that lingered longer than they should.
But routine held steady —
a warm drink, small preparations,
and the quiet discipline of continuing anyway.
The world outside felt close and crowded.
Spaces were tight, movements uncertain,
and there was a constant awareness of others —
their distance, their actions, their energy.
Still, step by step, the journey continued.
At...

This morning began before the sun, in a space that already felt heavy.
Words were exchanged that did not land softly.
Small choices became criticisms.
I chose silence, not because I had nothing to say,
but because peace felt more important than being heard.
The journey out was crowded and restless.
There were near misses, sudden movements,
and moments where I had to shift myself quickly
just to feel safe in my own space.
At work, the rhythm of the day carried both noise and stillness.
There were...

I woke before the sky softened,
in a body that already felt like it had run a race.
Warm drinks, small routines, careful steps
even the simple act of holding a spoon
slipped once, then recovered.
The morning moved forward anyway.
The bus was crowded,
voices brushing past like wind I could not hold.
There were moments that felt sharp,
like being seen too closely or misunderstood,
and I held my space the best I could,
quietly adjusting, quietly enduring.
Outside, the world felt fast
wheels passing too...

This morning began early, before the world had fully opened its eyes.
There was warmth in a cup, small routines held carefully,
and a body that felt a little too heavy, a little too warm,
trying its best to keep going anyway.
The journey out was cautious.
Cyclists passed too close,
movements felt sharper than usual,
and the day had already asked for alertness
before it had even properly begun.
Inside the space, the air was cold.
Voices came and went, some light, some careless,
some that brushed too...

Today wasn’t easy.
There was noise, conflict, and moments where emotions overflowed.
But even in that
I still paused,
I still reflected,
I still came back to myself.
That is growth.
Not perfection.
Not silence.
But returning.

Good news, I received international 1st place award for my book, 公主的故事

This morning began gently,
but somewhere along the way,
the day grew heavier than I expected.
There were moments
that felt sharp, confusing, and loud—
words that didn’t sit right,
movements that felt too close,
and situations that left me feeling unseen.
I tried to hold myself together
in spaces that did not always feel safe.
And maybe…
I didn’t do everything perfectly.
Maybe my voice rose when my heart was too full.
But even then,
I was still trying.
I walked through the rain.
I stayed when things felt...

This morning began in the quiet blue before sunrise.
4:21am, and the world was still soft and half-asleep.
I moved gently through my routine, brushing my teeth, preparing my drinks, folding my clothes,
trying to steady myself before the day began.

There was something in the air today.
Not loud, not obvious, but restless.

The journey out felt like stepping into a moving current.
A bicycle screeched somewhere too close.
A stranger brushed past my bag.
A boy walked ahead, then suddenly ran, as if I had...

This morning began before the light,
in the quiet hours where the world was still
but my body already felt heavy.
Warm water, small routines,
a prayer whispered a little later than usual—
not perfect, but still sincere.
Outside, the rain came down harder than expected.
The ground was slippery,
and for a moment, I almost fell.
But I didn’t.
I kept walking.
The journey was filled with small moments—
some gentle, some uncomfortable.
Seats shifting, people moving,
umbrellas brushing past like passing thoughts....

Today felt heavy in quiet ways.

Small things didn’t go smoothly,
and my body felt slower than usual.
Even simple moments carried a kind of weight
I couldn’t fully explain.

So I allowed myself to pause.

And in that pause,
I found a kind of space within me
that felt calm and untouched.

It wasn’t a real place,
but it felt safe.

A space filled with light,
where nothing rushed me,
and nothing asked me to prove anything.

There was comfort in simply sitting still,
in letting the noise fade
without needing to fix...

Today was not an easy day.
My body felt heavy, my throat hurt,
and even simple things took effort.
There were moments of frustration,
moments where I reacted,
and moments where I just felt tired of everything.
But even in that,
I still showed up.
I ate what I could.
I rested when I needed.
I said sorry when things calmed down.
I chose to protect my peace.
Not every strength is loud.
Some strength looks like lying down and breathing.
Some strength looks like letting go of what hurts.
Today, I choose to see...

Today felt like a long thread pulled through too many moments.

A body that burned in the morning,
a voice that grew softer with each hour,
and a heart that kept trying to stay steady
in places that felt loud, shifting, and uncertain.

There were small discomforts —
the noise, the stares, the teasing,
the feeling of being slightly out of place.

But there were also quiet kindnesses.

A tissue given.
A hand held.
A question asked: “How are you?”

Even when the world felt messy,
I did not disappear.

I showed up —...