openminded guy 49 186 78 18
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gerrall;uy into younger versa
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ruyi and lyn, bangsar shopping center.
came to this halal chinese restaurant for a dear colleague’s farewell dinner. we took their set menu since we have just enough people to share, which has a bit of everything. we also got the private room which has karaoke system as well. it was a comfortable environment where we can just chit chat.
the food was served course by course, the portion is just nice as well. the appetizers - fried squid and fish skin, are quite good, very crispy batter and very flavorful. chicken soup is also quite lovely. the steamed fish is fresh, and the sauce is appetizing too. there’s also abalone and fish maw with broccoli (my favorite). overall food was pretty nice, standard chinese dishes which we all enjoyed.
we also ordered wine, which is quite pricey but pretty nice as well. the server is quite attentive with refilling our glasses and also chinese tea. overall service is actually pretty okay. it’s definitely a good choice for small gathering because of the private space.
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My garden
my room, every drawer, every book, every tab in my browser, my photo albums, my journal. they're all part of my inner world, and as part of my inner world, they are private, only for me to share. when i let you in, you are an honored guest. when i let you in, you should feel exclusive. nobody accesses here without an invitation, and when you come in, you might or not stay for the night, but i eventually close the windows again, and the curtains are back on display. black-out as i like them.
i dive into my world alone. i do enjoy the company, especially from respectful guests. still, this place is my garden. every sheet, every pillow I've ever cried on or kissed pretending they're somebody special. every change of script in specific memories to comfort me from a painful conversation, my blanket holding my boogers from every heartbreak, they ask for my attention. they ask me to water them, to show love and presence.
when i leave for long, i come back, and they're dry, the dust all over the leaves. and i feel guilty for being so reckless, for abandoning my private space.
when i stay, and my garden has flourished again, everything retakes shape and form, and you can feel the love. i feel proud but disconnected, the details have glitches, and I can't lie to myself. i leave, and nobody recognizes me outside. i've been gone for too long. i feel guilty again, but this time is for abandoning myself outside my garden.
my room. my garden. my mind. my garden.
when someone i despise points out my lack of presence, i grow large and defensive, sending myself back to my garden. they don't know the treasure they're missing. they're jealous of my attention. when someone i love points out my lack of presence, i feel guilty and try to reassure them of my company by taking care of them, but then i become resentful and send myself back to my garden.
how dare they make me feel guilty for my interests?
why do they make me feel guilty for choosing where to display my appreciation?
what's wrong with the way i nurture myself?
while these questions run around my mind, i look around. all of the pieces in my garden start to stink, and every bright color turns opaque, no appeal, no glossiness.
my garden mirrors my mood. i feel betrayed by my own space.
how dare my garden turn on me? to have thunderstorms where there were showers of cherry blossoms. wet mud over benches. no place to receive comfort.
holding on to the need to defend myself, i hurt those who knocked on my door while i’m desperately trying to protect what’s behind it.
i hurt myself, and i hurt my garden too.
everyone feels my lack of presence, and I disappear out of shame. i hurt myself by ripping myself out of my private space, mistaking guests for intruders, making myself choose from what side of the door i should be in, making me choose at all, and feeling chased inside my garden but not enough outside of it. not knowing when to draw the line, and again, from which side of the door should i do that.
i feel beloved for my inner world but also guilty for having one.
my garden can be as welcoming as deceiving. whenever i choose it above everything else, every fruit has an expiration date. and whenever i decide to be outside of it, i'm not myself.
no inspiration, no sense of feeling.
either way, my presence radiates my dissatisfaction. just a piece of both might make me immortal. only the idea of having a bit of both sends me back to my private space, where i get to water the what-ifs of my happiness.
i whispered to myself:
your greatest gift is not your capacity for your inner world, it is the capacity you hold to nurture what you love, just like you water your garden. always take care of it and give yourself the first bite of that fruition. when others recognize this within you, they might not be able to help themselves. but don’t create fences for your garden, just trust yourself to be the guardian of your roots.
To read the entry related to this poem, visit "The guilt from disconnecting"
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