This morning, I changed my mind again
pork porridge, then Chee Cheong fun.
Maybe I wasn’t hungry for food,
but for peace that didn’t feel so fragile.

She was unwell.
Snapped when I asked about the bill.
“不要吵我了”
— but I wasn’t trying to fight.
Just to understand.

She asked about the semor tablets.
I said I didn’t know.
I took them too — not out of habit,
but to feel a little more human,
a little less invisible.

She said I only care about myself.
But if that were true,
why do I keep trying?

He said, love your family.
I nodded quietly.

There was no best friend to text today.
No warm reply to my updates,
just empty bubbles, unread.
Still, I liked a post celebrating love.
Still, I joined a fan club,
maybe to feel like I belonged somewhere.

Some people are mysterious.
Some don’t like when I ask too much.
But maybe I just want to be let in.
To be known,
without having to knock so hard.

And so I watched something not for the plot,
heard a sound I couldn’t silence.
But no one said a word.
Not even her.

She’s asleep now.
And I’m writing this —
a quiet offering
for no one in particular.

Just me.
Still here.
Still trying.