I might sound a bit too dramatic, for it is only my email account that has been hacked into. But it has been with me for a long time. A time long ago where I had friends and family that could relate to me, and I to them.

First of all, I'm sorry to the handful of people who actually read this blog. I know I have not posted for a long time, but after my last post, I didn't really want to post all the negative stuff that happened to me. I tried to keep it inside so people don't get worried for me. But I realised that without them, I didn't really have much to post about. I have not had a genuinely cheerful experience for the past few months.

Some of you may know, I've lost friends in the Japan tsunami. It was painful. It was the kind of stuff you thought would not happen to anyone close to you. It does sound selfish when I say it like that, like I hoped it happened to another person instead of my friends, but I did. I felt terrible for it, but I was wishing that somebody else could take their place.

In my last post I said that life was slowly moving forward again. I might have jinxed myself by saying that. My life feels like it is in shambles right now. I feel alone as people I have considered friends, almost sisters, have left to live their own lives in their own countries. I have been betrayed by people I once thought to have been friends, and I can no longer look them in the eye without feeling a profound sadness despite them not knowing that I overheard their criticisms, their scathing remarks. I go days without meaningful conversation with others, as now I have a deep rooted fear of what they would think of me.

I know I'm an insecure girl with a hedgehog's dilemma. I know that people will be hurt if they come close to me. It's not superstition. People said I was crazy, that it's not true, but anybody has gotten close with me has been dragged down as well. I'm such a jinx. Yet I still crave for a person to talk to. To share my feelings with. I'm such a wretched girl.

And all this that I have been hiding, has resurfaced due to my email having been hacked into. "Why?" you might ask. Because with my email gone, with it goes my memories. My saved mail over the years, the gems of history I longed to treasure and keep with me gone. My contacts over the years, whether close or far, even those who have passed and their contacts having become a memorial, gone. I feel like I have been wiped from the face of the Earth. I've never had a knack for talking in real life. I was also regarded as a soft spoken person that didn't speak her mind too often. But it was different online. Anything I typed to anyone else was displayed as clearly as they could read. My opinions were carefully constructed without any slip ups I tended to have in real life as I could think about them, and not mess up due to my stupid mouth. And so, all of these are gone as well. I am well and truly alone, cut off from my world.

I slowly fade out of existence. My hopes and dreams are but a distant dream. I question what I came here for. But even if I went home now, would it still be home? It might be as foreign as where I am now.

I am considering taking a hiatus from my job to find out what to do. I do have enough money to do it for a while, but it is a big decision. Sigh.

I do have a new email account now, but I have no idea how in the slightest to start getting people's contacts again. I'm not sure if posting it here is the right thing to do.

So where do I start. 5 months ago, I thought that I was finally settling into a familiar routine, etching a living for myself and trying to open my eyes to the ever-expanding world around me. I never really thought that so much would happen in such a short period of time. I guess it started when I went back for a surprise visit back to Singapore. It was a nostalgic feeling, returning after a few years. As I savored the sights and sounds, the hustle and bustle of the city, my parents said I should pay a visit to my two grandmothers as they haven't seen me in such a long time. They had constantly asked about me whenever my parents went over. I kept putting off seeing them.

When I finally visited one of my paternal grandmother, it was for a routine checkup in the hospital. My dad couldn't make it due to work, so my mum, my cousin and I brought her to the hospital. As we waited for the doctor, I held her hands, and I realized how thin she had gotten. When did she start looking so frail? I looked in her eyes, and I could tell she was happy to see me. We spoke while waiting for the doctor, with her asking how life was in Australia, whether I was happy there. For the first time in years I had a heart to heart talk with my grandmother. I felt like crying, as just as she watched me grow from a baby in her arms, I watched her grow older. At the end of the checkup, when we took her home, I hugged her tightly.

2 days later, she passed on. I was out with my old friends that day, when my cousin called me from the hospital. She had suffered a heart attack, and the doctors were trying to resuscitate her, and I should go to the hospital now. My whole body shook with disbelief. I flagged down the nearest taxi to the hospital, and the whole journey there, I just prayed. Prayed to whoever would listen, any God, Goddess or Deity, that I would devote myself wholly to them if they just saved her. I kept telling myself it was a lie, that maybe the doctors were able to to revive her, that maybe she could pull through this. Sometimes, people only have false hope to cling on to, because it was all I had. When I got to the hospital, the faces that greeted me told me everything. But still the tears didn't come. I still... had that tiny sliver of hope that maybe when I stepped inside, she would be sitting on the bed waiting for me. I finally succumbed to all the tears I was holding back when I saw her on the bed. People came up and gave consoling hugs, but I couldn't tell who they were because of the tears that constantly streamed down my face. I could only inch towards her. I felt faint and ready to collapse. A huge part of my life had just suddenly disappeared from my life. Just like that. So many people crying in the room, the men trying hardest to keep their tears from flowing but failing, the women burying their heads into anything close, wishing their hardest that when they would just wake up from this dream. My grandmother had a serene face, and I stroked her hair as the tears kept falling. I called out to her that I was here, and to please wake up as I had so much more to tell her about life in Australia. My aunt was sobbing at the bedside, asking her to wake as well, as one of my uncle and another aunt were both overseas for work, and she should at least wait till they were able to see her one more time before she passed. We all just stood in the room and cried until the doctor told us that they had to send her to the morgue to be prepared for the funeral, as her body was losing heat and rigor mortis was starting to occur. All we could do was to go home, cry more, and plan the funeral.

My dad is usually a strong person. I had never seem him in such a state before, but neither have I seen myself like this. I couldn't stop the tears that seem to bleed from my eyes down my cheeks. I felt like shriveling up, curling into a ball on my bed and fall asleep forever. The funeral was a traditional one held at the void deck of my aunt's house, as condominiums did not allow funerals to be held. Our grandmother was the matriarch in our large family; she had 9 children and numerous grandchildren. I don't believe that people in the future would ever have traditional funerals anymore, as the number of children people have decrease, and we lose our traditions and culture in lieu of adapting to the rest of the world. It was 3 days of rituals and vigilance and the family coming as a whole to see our beloved grandmother off. The priests told the story of her intricate journey in life, her overcoming hardship, her coming to rest. After the third day, we cremated her, and brought her to the temple for her resting place. We visited her every single day for a 60 days, as is the mourning period. Even when we visited the temple for the last day to tell her we that we will stop mourning, the tears still flowed.

My dad was in a slump for such a long time after. As his daughter, I did not know what to do. I should support him as much as I could, but he didn't seem to allow anybody in. He didn't eat, barely slept, and went to work though his boss told him to take more rest before going back. I guess it was his way of escaping reality. When he collapsed from exhaustion during work, I feared the worst. Although it was only exhaustion, I was really sad and angry and relieved at the same time. It was the first time I raised my voice at my dad. I shouted at him, I cried at him, I lashed out with my hands on his chest, tried to beat some sense into his heart that his family was suffering as well. That he wasn't the only one that suffered. He just stood there. I cried, and he hugged me.

A few days later, he took me aside. I looked at him, and I realized... how old he was as well. He would be 66 this year. He had a talk with me, on the future. On life. He told me to find a good husband to take care of me, as he would not be here forever. I really felt like crying when I heard that.

It was two weeks later when I returned to Perth. Without a job. Without a home. Without faith. Without the strength to resolve my burdens. For a few weeks, I sank into a hole of self loathe. I blame myself for causing my grandmother's passing. I keep thinking to myself that maybe if I didn't go back, maybe she wouldn't have passed. Maybe if she didn't see me, she would have continued living until she did. Maybe I could have prolonged her life by not going back.

In Perth, I had nowhere to stay, as my previous landlord wanted the house back. N & M, they both were unable to get their PRs, and had to return to their home countries. In the end, I was lucky enough that a friend offered to let me stay with her until I found a place. For a while, I just slept. Tried to sleep everything away. Living on what I've been saving up, I just lost connection to everyone and everything. I was living this way till my dad called me to ask if I ask doing well. I've known that I couldn't live like this, but part of me just wants to stay in that dark place. But his call... was a wake-up call. That life had to go on no matter what. I eventually found a small apartment where I'm currently residing in, and finally secured a job at another optometrist due to a referral from my old boss. He said he was glad to finally see me get over my demons, and would offer me my old job back if he had a spot.

My life is once again slowing turning and the gears are slowly clinking back into position, but I still see a darkness looming. I have never been so afraid. I never been so lonesome. I still cry myself to sleep at night. My dreams are only of sadness. There lies an aching in my heart that throbs no matter what I do. I can only hope that time will slowly ease the pain. I don't even have anybody to confide in anymore, as N & M are back in their home. I miss them. I miss my parents. I miss my maternal grandmother. I regret having insufficient time spent with her. I have never felt so away, so alone, so far away from everything. Everyday, I come back to an empty house. I'm really sick of being in this rut. I need somebody to save me.

But will I allow myself to be saved? Maybe I've been like this too long. Maybe I've grown accustomed to this. I don't know. I just don't know.