The Anatomy of My Thoughts = Rowan-ism

A video posted by Ron / Rowan / Wan (@rowanity) on Jul 26, 2016 at 5:56pm PDT I recall reading a series of books about a woman's experience dealing with children with mental disorders. Her name was Torey Haden. She highlights that the human perception is not all encompassing, that it is fragile and malleable. "The saddest part about being human is the depth of our perception" I see this as wonderful. Yes it means we can be naïve and blind to certain things, if we should so choose, but it also means that we have the amazing capacity to learn. I like having this fluidity. I enjoy the experience of my whole value system coming into question. YES, it is shocking at times, even painful. It leads to an awakening unlike any other. You've been privy to my existential crises if you've been following me since the "freaktarded-ness" days. The world may look different once you've taken off your rose colored glasses. It may...

As the days pass by I learn to be more honest with myself, more forgiving. I am not as weak or feeble as I originally thought. Years ago I considered myself a strong and independent young woman. Now that I am more independent that ever, it seems my opinions about myself has changed. I am here to reclaim my former glory. The ability to put myself out there, and make myself vulnerable to others is not a weakness - it is a strength. I refuse to grow calluses on my heart simply because to do so would mean that I've lost all hope. I can't do that. There has to be hope, always, or else how can we all keep going? Weeks of partying and letting all hell break loose was just a way of procrastination, a way of putting my feelings on hold. Its easy to get stuck in a cycle of "what ifs", self pity and hatred. I'm making a choice to be done People make mistakes, it is my nature to be hard on myself. I am an idealist after all. The reality of the situation has dawn...

Here I sit consumed in gray, It seems the haze won't drift away.   To you I dare not to say, In grief and sorrow I will pay.   I must learn this arduous lesson, May you hearken my confession My heart's burden it will lessen Should you pardon my transgression Till I find what it is I seek, 'Tis with you I wish to speak   To tell you, I'm sorry,  I was weak.

On moments I let my guard down, you cross my mind. I can't help but wonder how you are. Are you feeling alright? I'd drop you a text but...it feels too hollow. I hope you are well. I want you to know that although we seldom talk, I care for you nonetheless. Friend. Family. Lover. As for me, I'm the same, pertinently overthinking the details of my life. I'm afraid of what lies ahead. I'm frightened of trusting. I am terrified of revealing my emotions while at the same time burdened by concealing them. It weighs heavily on me to be constantly misunderstood. I wish I didn't feel so deeply about everything and everyone. I get taken for granted. I take my time to try and get to know people and go out of my way to find perfect gifts or do favors for them. I take notes on personal tastes and important dates. Maybe people don't realize how important they are to me. Maybe they know exactly how important they are and take advantage of the fact that I wil...

I was listening to Ed Sheeran's "Don't" while working and before I knew it, my vison was blurry with unshed tears and I had to take a moment to compose myself. The lyrics hit me like a ton of bricks. "I wasn't looking for a promise or commitment But it was never just fun and I thought you were different This is not the way you realize what you wanted It's a bit too much, too late if I'm honest" That moment you realize that you are Ellie Goulding. Ah well... a good friend once said 3 days is the maximum amount of time you should nurse your heart & ego. That 3 days has come and gone. I'm dropping off his birthday present and that is that. I hope he likes it. I put a lot of thought into it.  Sigh...snap out of it woman! Lesson learned. "Hearts are often broken when there are words unspoken" - Whitney Houston - Exhale. The irony. Last time, things fell apart because I said how I felt. Then again, I don...

This letter might never reach its intended recipient, nonetheless, I am writing this because I crave the catharsis and clarity that writing brings. It forces me into teasing through the jumbl This is how I remember you: April 20 th was the day I got to know you more. I learnt that you liked Iced Chai Tea Lattes too. We walked all the way from the Bugis to the waterfront. I was glad to find a fellow Tumblr-er (in the same genere) and People Watcher. We’d talked and somehow because of my late night fried chicken craving, we ended up clowning around in Mustafa till 4am. That will be one of my most memorable/ best first dates. May 7th, you came to Going Om to pick me up before our Bintan trip. I thought you looked rather dashing in a suit. I felt my first twinge of jealousy when you asked Gokce (Sky) for her number. We slept in the same bed for the first time that night. The next day we had fun in Indonesia and I was glad you could get along well with my friends. I w...

In having something I do not want, I realize what it is that I want. The only question is whether or not it is attainable or not. I fear for the latter. I fear that I will never have what it is that I want - that there is this vacant space in me that can never be filled. Maybe it isn't possible to have what you want, or maybe its just a matter of learning to want what you have. Is contentment a sort of giving up? Does it even exist? Lately there has been this feeling inside of me, like an burning itch that I cannot scratch, pestering and festering, pushing me closer and closer to the brink of madness. I long to find out what it is. Is it dissatisfaction? Loneliness perhaps? I can only remember a few times in my life that I have been free from this feeling. Its when I am passionately working towards something, or fulfilling a duty so important that I lose myself completely in the act. Maybe its the raging passion inside of me starving to be satiated. The thing is,...

Love mingles in a place between the conscious and the unconscious, it is both involuntary and voluntary, selfless and selfish. Sometimes you find yourself expressing an extreme fondness for a friend - one which you may initially be unaware of. You realize that the friendship has grown, and you are grateful for the times you've spend with each other. As a child you may gaze into the eyes of a stranger you've had an amazing conversation with and that is the very moment that choose to love them as a lifelong friend. There are times when love catches you off guard slapping you in the face with the realization that you have in fact fallen hopelessly in love with someone you can't have. Now if love was purely voluntary - it should be easy to stop loving someone who has wronged you, or someone you can't have, but this is not the case. If love was involuntary, then you could never choose to move on from the devastation of unreciprocated love. Love is li...

His soul was so achingly brave in its readiness to love. In his choice to see the beautiful soul in a world enveloped in malignance. To subject his entirety to potential devastation is an act not many can attest to. Some believe that to love is to be happy, Yet where is the joy in allowing one's life to spin into turmoil? Love is selfless, Like an plague, it seeps into his normal, infecting every crevice of his life. Like an addict he derives a decadence unlike no other,  from devoting his existence to another  Love is selfish

I know that this is out of the blue but I felt compelled to write in my blog after years of neglecting it. Perhaps because I hope that it will be the catharsis that I need to push me to move on. Some days I find it hard to get out of bed. Thoughts of him still drift into my head triggered by the most mundane things which leave me in a crying fit. Today, I spoke to some of my friends about riding lessons. I couldn't bear to admit to them why I had stopped. It was because they reminded me of him. I know that I love riding and I hate myself for letting him have any power over my emotions and actions. It seems so unfair. How did I come to care so much for a person who cared so little for me?  Well, it wasn't always that way. He used to hold my hand and listen to my problems. He would even offer a shoulder to cry on. I don't know what changed but something did and he started putting up a wall. As much as I would like to hate him, I can't. I owe him too much. he h...