"I like to detach the hero or villain persona from the person, y'know?", she admitted as she set down her cup of coffee on the marble table. "Makes them feel more human."

"Makes mefeel more human."

A boy was different from the other kids in his class, who were all outgoing by simply being an introvert who preferred to be alone. The boy who was born into a broken family. As a child, he often asked himself who he was and what good he was to others. Even as a child, his developed mind found peace only through books and games, a never-ending heartache within him.

Jaden, during his elementary years, participated in every activity he could—boys' scouts, extracurriculars, or anything that came his way. He did this to escape the chaos of home.. He didn't have many friends; still, the prizes he won were like badges of validation, little pieces of honor in his otherwise blank world. His graduation from the institution of learning with numerous honors led to the assumption that he was on the correct path. At the time of his departure, he felt like his mind was wandering further away than ever before.

He aspired to attend the medtech programme, a dream that appeared to have a point. But his grandfather, who is characterized by a matter-of-fact and carried the extra load of their short of funds, did not admit the idea. "Become a teacher," he urged, "so you can utilize all the knowledge that you get." Jaden went through this path very reluctantly, as he started up his major in English, still, the spark inside him faded away. He was not contented. Jaden was sure that it was the right step, yet it was not his real calling.

Going to college was very hard. He was able to pay for his tuition via a scholarship, but for him it was a continual struggle. The pandemic came, and Jaden, a natural introvert, had to stay in his room where he played different online games like Mobile Legends, Dragon Raja, Undawn, and Roblox. He kept watching different movies until it was a hit-and-miss undertakings in time and life. The outer lives broke him down with them, and so Jaden's spirit also died. All around him, life seemed to be an empty black hole.

At the beginning of his third year of college, his life took another unbearable turn. His family members got sick with COVID-19, and his previously strong grandmother also fell very sick. Jaden, who was worn-out and emotionally exhausted, spent some sleepless nights while his uncle, a nurse, was taking care of his grandmother. The fear of losing her was too heavy for him and he could not get the feeling that the end was near out of his head.

He watched his uncle crying and that proved to him that his grandmother's inevitable loss would come. Unfortunately, life had its own plan-Jaden's grandpa, the unspoken core of the family, died due to health complications. They didn't tell his grandmother to save her from the grief.

Still, Jaden managed to lay hands on his grandfather's decisive speech essentially mouthing that while they were still conversing, they had the words, "Don’t be grumpy or pout all the time. Eat on time and take care of yourself. Pass your board exam. If you want to study for a master’s degree, just focus on your studies. If you want to take the course you like, do it. Just remember to save money."These words were the exact words Jaden's grandfather said to him, and for him, it was a clear sign of his grandfather's strong belief in his capacity; even in his confusion, he was absolutely sure Jaden could do anything.

Jaden's mind was crowded with various feelings like sorrow, guilt, and despair, and hopelessness was getting stronger and stronger in him. The pressure in the form of school and parents completely broke him, and he thought of dropping out of school. But he still held on. Jaden spent his time at his internship now and then and looked to learn more among high school students. With all the difficulties, he found himself at peace in the classroom which was the reason that he was always in tears. He didn't want to be a teacher, but he was given the right to be one and this was enough even if he didn't really know who he was.

A teacher board examination has been passed by Jaden, although he felt rather empty despite his accomplishment. A road was in front of him, still a labyrinth with no particular direction. He had been through so many struggles, but still seeking answers to such questions always knocked his mind. Was he really himself or the one who was made to be? Remained the answers like trying to catch the shadow in the dark.

Then came an unexpected turn in his journey. It was not a blazing, all-of-a-sudden realization or a brained science fair. It was just a missing link, actually. Jaden has experienced his be a pen of a medtech student. Greg was not just a name; he was a soul who, like Jaden, was attempting to discover the truth about life, trying to figure out where he belonged. Greg was HIV motivator DOH accredited but his heart was filled with something that Jaden had never really known: fighting love, the kind that filled every gap.

Greg was not a mere friend of Jaden who he knew from only the platform but a person who helped him to see his way in the unending dimness of his life. The time they had been living together had brought them closer and stronger in many ways. They sat up late into the nights and took the discussions to a different level, from dreams to their personal challenges and everything in between. Greg's tone was the only one that was not lost in the midst of Jaden's lack of self-confidence. Greg's talk was unique, it was real, and it was a novelty for Jaden for the first time and for a long time, he had the feeling that he was alive, that he mattered.

Greg laughed with the letters appearing on Jaden's screen. "You're doing it because it's something to hold on to, something to build on. You don't have to know everything all at once. Take it one step at a time."A warm sensation spread in Jaden's chest, and with it a glimmer of hope, faint but alive. Greg's might just be the solution after all. He was engulfed in so much fear, so much doubt, but it was the possibility that maybe his journey wasn't all about getting everything done instantly. It was okay to take steps, and although the steps might initially seem inadequate, they were the correct steps.

The past years were filled with a variety of events in his life. He was ashamed of his attempts to express himself through pageants, to be a writer, but the butt of a lot of jokes, and the recipient of a lot of bullying. His mind was often in dark places under pressure of it all, yet he had a purpose to exist. Despite the loneliness that often besieged him, Jaden never gave up. At the same time, he was unable to find the solution, but still he didn't give up the finding, the struggle, the belief, because some days you are still living, and that's enough.

Thus, Jaden is still plodding on, as he keeps up his journey, which is really a constant pass through the air before he finds the self that has always eluded him. With each step, the questions increase, multiplied by the silence between the thoughts, which makes them earsplitting. Who am I? Where do I belong? Every solution he manages to figure out kind of just goes through his fingers, a similarity to the sand in a storm. Nevertheless, he is still pressing on for in a corner of his heart he knows that traveling is what he had known in life.

The prospect ahead is still hazy and even if there are occasionally little bubbles of joy, they are often overshadowed by the burden of the unknown. His heart is heavy, and he feels a constant void, yearning for fulfillment, maybe it is a person or some other thing that can make him feel complete. And as he roams through silence, he queries inwardly: Will he succeed in locating his better half, or will he be a mislaid that will drift through darkness not knowing his own Identity?

Unnoticed, this young man keeps moving forward, wiping his teardrops-because of the fact that it's the hardest thing to find out is if I may ever know who I am indeed.

This narrative, this voyage... it is my record. It's me. Every question, every doubt, every moment of feeling lost depicts my true being. And I keep looking, longing that one day, I'll find the solutions that I've looked for with all my might.

As the world began to grapple with the onset of the pandemic, everything changed overnight. The once-bustling streets fell silent, the vibrancy of daily life was replaced by an eerie stillness, and uncertainty loomed over us like a thick fog. It was during this time of upheaval that I found myself paying closer attention to my cat, Riri, as she navigated her own little universe amidst the chaos. Riri is a British shorthair with striking big yellow eyes and a coat of soft gray fur, had always been a source of comfort for me. But as I watched her during those initial days of lockdown, I realised that I had never truly observed her in this way before. With all the uncertainties swirling around us, I began to find solace in her simple, everyday routines.

At first, I was overwhelmed with anxiety. News reports filled with grim statistics and dire warnings bombarded me from every direction. I could feel the weight of the world pressing down on my shoulders. Like many, I was forced to adjust to a new normal, working from home and limited in my interactions with others. The uncertainty gnawed at me, and I found myself spiralling into a state of worry. But amidst the chaos, Riri seemed blissfully unaware of the world outside our window. As I sat at my desk, attempting to concentrate on work, I would often glance over at her. She would be perched on the windowsill, sunbathing in the warm rays for hours, her big yellow eyes half-closed in a state of pure contentment. In those moments, I envied her ability to find joy in the simplest things.

One of the first behaviours that caught my attention was Riri’s fascination with the changing environment outside. The streets, once filled with people and cars, were now a rare sight. Birds returned to the sidewalks, and flowers began to bloom in the absence of human activity. Riri, with her keen instincts, would sit for hours watching the world go by. I found myself drawn to her observations, often sitting beside her in silence, sharing in her curiosity.

As the days turned into weeks, I began to document Riri’s daily activities. I started a journal, noting down her quirks and habits. It became a form of therapy for me, a way to channel my anxiety into something productive. I watched her chase after imaginary prey, pouncing on dust motes dancing in the air, and I couldn’t help but smile. Her playful spirit reminded me that life, even in its simplest form, could still be beautiful.

One particular afternoon stands out in my memory. I had just finished a video call with my client, feeling drained from the endless stream of virtual meetings. I glanced over at Riri, who had taken up residence in a cardboard sneakerbox that had been sitting in the living room since the last online shopping binge. She was sprawled out, oblivious to the world, her little paws sticking out at odd angles. I couldn’t help but chuckle. Here was this majestic creature, ruling over her cardboard kingdom, completely unbothered by the chaos of the outside world. I realised that Riri had mastered the art of living in the moment, a lesson I desperately needed to learn. In that instant, I promised myself to be more present, to embrace the little joys each day brought, just as she did.

As the days continued to roll by, I noticed how Riri’s routine also seemed to shift with the changing atmosphere. While she had always been a creature of habit, the pandemic seemed to give her a new sense of freedom. With me home all the time, she had constant access to companionship and playtime. I created new routines around her, incorporating play sessions into my work breaks. We would engage in spirited games of chase, with her darting around the living room as I threw her favorite toys or shooting that red laser beam. The laughter that filled our home was a welcome reprieve from the anxiety that had become so familiar. I found myself looking forward to these moments, where time felt suspended, and our bond deepened. Riri, with her playful nature, had unwittingly become my anchor, my mindfulness, during this tumultuous period.

Yet, there were also moments when I felt the weight of isolation creeping in. The absence of social interactions began to take its toll, and I would often find myself feeling down or unmotivated. It was during one of these low points that Riri curled up beside me on the couch, purring softly. The warmth of her body against mine provided a comforting reminder that I was not alone. In those quiet moments, I began to reflect on the importance of connection, not just with others but with ourselves. I realized that while the world outside was chaotic, I could still find peace within my home, with the company of Riri. Riri had a way of grounding me, of bringing me back to the present when my mind wandered to future uncertainties. I also started to explore the idea of gratitude. Each day, I would jot down a few things I was thankful for, no matter how small. More often than not, Riri’s antics made the list. Whether it was her hilarious attempts to catch a fly or the way she would stretch luxuriously after a nap, I found joy in these everyday occurrences. They served as a reminder that even in difficult times, there were still moments to cherish.

As I continued to observe Riri, I began to recognise her as a source of inspiration. Her ability to adapt, to find joy in the mundane, and to embrace the present moment became lessons I wanted to carry forward. I realised that if she could find happiness in the simple act of chasing a shadow or basking in the sunlight, then perhaps I could learn to do the same. By the end of the first thirty days of lockdown, I had not only gained a deeper understanding of Riri but also of myself. I had transformed my anxiety into curiosity and my worries into reflections. Through my cat’s eyes, I was learning to navigate this new reality with grace and resilience.

As I sat down to write this book, I felt a surge of gratitude for both Riri and the journey we had embarked on together. It was a journey of observation, reflection, and ultimately, self-discovery. In the face of uncertainty, I had found a path to healing. This was just the beginning of the adventure, and I was eager to share the lessons learned from the thirty days of observation in the later chapters. Little did I know, the journey would lead to a deeper understanding of not only my cat but also of what it means to care for ourselves during trying times.

"Consume, but not to be consumed."

DELILAH DOYLE [A.A.]

I was lostNowhere, and yet there was no whereto be lost in. A shadow of my former self, no longer a king, no longer a man. An empty shell, stumbling through a colorless world.        And then, in the abyss, I saw her.                         Another RoseA Rose reminiscent of Youin every way. Her stem, her thorns, her scent, her petals... it was as if Youhad returned, reborn in a new form.She wasn’t a peach-colored Juliet like You, but an Alabaster with pure white petals, like freshly fallen snow. Her color stood in stark contrast to my deep darkness and despair. I knew she would bring color to my life once more.This time, I didn’t act recklessly. I didn’t grab her without thought as I had with You. She didn’t prick me, didn’t draw my blood. And when I held her close, I felt something I thought I had lost forever... happiness. It was as if Youwere by my side again.I took her home with me and tended to her with love and care. Every morning, I would wake to her delicate beauty, her presence filling the empty spaces in my heart with warmth and light.But as the days turned into weeks, I began to despise her white petals. Their purity, once so beautiful, became a flaw. They lacked the peach hue that had once captivated my soul. It was the only thing that made her different from You, the only thing that made her...                               Not You.I tried to love her as she was. I truly did. But the whiteness became a constant reminder that she wasn’t You. And so, in my desperation, I stole a trick from Yourbook, my dearest...I bought peach-colored paint.I knew ordinary paint would dry and wilt her, just as Youhad withered from my blood. So I chose a non-drying paint, and it worked. Her pristine white petals absorbed the delicate shade of peach, and she was finally, truly You.But as the days passed, I realized my grave mistake. The paint that gave her Yourcolor also suffocated her. It coated every petal, blocking her pores and smothering her life.In my misguided attempt to bring Youback, I had condemned her to the same fate.I had killed another RoseNot with malice, but with love. A love she accepted and cherished, unaware it had never truly been hers.I suffocated her with Your memory.I loved her... to death.

🥀Picasso🥀

[Verse]

I was the toy you didn’t need

It’s good we didn’t get married

I’m tired of your narcissism

I’ve made an important decision

Yes, it’s time to take the page out

With no hesitation, with no doubts

[Pre-Chorus]

I’m finally awake, I can breathe

It’s fine she decided to leave

I’m not sorry, I ain’t gonna help

I dream of love, I deserve respect

I forgot I’d always been desired

But now I’m ready to fly like a bird

[Chorus]

Life after you (life after you)

I don’t need you, you don’t need me

I ain’t your man, you ain’t my destiny

True love is more than wild passion

And it should never be an addiction

I was intoxicated and thought I’d die

But it turns out I’m living a better life

Life after you

[Post-Chorus]

Oh-oh, oh-oh, oh-oh-oh

Oh-oh, oh-oh, oh-oh-oh

(Life after you)

[Verse 2]

We were just a stunning picture

A perfect couple from the cover (oh, oh, oh, oh)

I’m tired of this selfish actress

Playing for her family and cameras (oh, oh, oh, oh)

Yes, I’m strong and independent

But I wanna get care and be loved (oh, oh, oh, oh)

[Pre-Chorus]

Gonna do my best to forget that lady

Even if her absence makes me thirsty

I’ve met the one who helps me survive

She’s always near to keep my spirit rise

Here’s the one who should be loved

The one who isn’t as dead as a diamond

[Chorus]

Life after you (life after you)

I don’t need you, you don’t need me

I ain’t your man, you ain’t my destiny

True love is more than wild passion

And it should never be an addiction

I was intoxicated and thought I’d die

But it turns out I’m living a better life

Life after you

[Post-Chorus]

Oh-oh, oh-oh, oh-oh-oh

Oh-oh, oh-oh, oh-oh-oh

[Bridge]

Life after you (life after you)

Life after you (life after you)

Life after you (life after you)

[Chorus]

Life after you (life after you)

I don’t need you, you don’t need me (we’re nothing)

I ain’t your man, you ain’t my destiny (we’re a fake)

True love is more than wild passion (much more)

And it should never be an addiction (no, no, no)

I was intoxicated and thought I’d die (intoxicated)

But it turns out I’m living a better life (oh, oh, oh, oh)

Life after you

[Outro]

Oh-oh, oh-oh, oh-oh-oh-oh

Life after you

Oh-oh, oh-oh, oh-oh-oh-oh

Life after you

Oh-oh, oh-oh, oh-oh-oh-oh

Life after you

Oh-oh, oh-oh, oh-oh-oh-oh

Life after you

Oh-oh-oh-oh

Gindaco Highball.

There exists a sorrow so profound that it defies articulation: the knowledge that I can never truly return, coupled with the bitter accusation from those I love—“Why won’t you come back?” It is a sorrow that weighs heavily on my heart, a quiet grief that reverberates with every passing year.

Growing up in London with a multicultural background, Hong Kong was always more than just a distant place on a map. It was an intrinsic part of me, its presence woven into family stories, cultural traditions, and childhood visits. For years, it lingered in my mind as an anchor—familiar and steadfast, a refuge I believed I could always return to. But since 2019, that image has shattered. The Hong Kong I cherished feels irretrievably altered, cloaked in shadows of oppression and loss.

I did not walk the streets in protest, nor did I lend my voice to the chants for freedom. Yet, I felt the weight of it all as though I had. The images, the stories, the silences—they seeped into me, unbidden, and left me questioning the place that once represented so much. The Hong Kong I knew, or perhaps imagined, is no longer there. What remains is a city I struggle to recognise, let alone call home.

My relatives, steadfast in their lives there, cannot understand. To them, my reluctance to return is perplexing, perhaps even hurtful. They assure me life is still livable if I would only stop overthinking. “Things aren’t that bad,” they say, as if normality were a choice. But I cannot reconcile their acceptance with the reality I see. I cannot pretend that silence is safety or that compliance is freedom.

They think I have chosen comfort over connection, but they are wrong. Each day I wrestle with the weight of my decision—the absence, the growing distance, the ache of estrangement. I long to return—not to the place it has become, but to the Hong Kong I once loved. Yet that city exists only in memory: a mosaic of fleeting visits, familial warmth, and imagined belonging. To return now would mean confronting its loss, a grief I am not yet ready to bear.

And so, I remain caught between two worlds, anchored in neither. In England, I am restless, haunted by what I’ve left behind. In Hong Kong, I would be stifled, unable to ignore the weight of what has changed. My relatives cannot see this struggle. They continue to sleep, lulled by the rhythms of a life they’ve chosen to endure. If they refuse to wake, if they find solace in their illusions, what power do I have to change that?

This is the sadness I carry: the ache of separation, the frustration of being misunderstood, and the quiet acceptance that not all divides can be bridged. My leaving was not an act of betrayal but one of survival. To stay would have meant smothering the parts of me that demand freedom, truth, and dignity—the parts shaped by my life in the Western world, where I learned to question, to hope, and to dream. Yet leaving has brought no peace. Instead, it has left me mourning a home I can no longer claim.

Still, beneath the sadness, there is a flicker of hope. Perhaps, one day, the clouds will part, and the city I remember will re-emerge, its spirit unbroken. Perhaps the ties that bind me to my family will prove stronger than distance or difference. Until that day, I wait. Even if that day never comes, I will wait, carrying this sadness as both a burden and a testament to the love that fuels it.

The grief of not returning—it is not a refusal, but an impossibility. It is the ache of knowing I cannot go back, even as I long for those I love to see what I see. It is the melancholy of standing at a crossroads, tethered to a place I cannot reach, holding in my heart both its pain and its promise.

Yet perhaps the weight of this grief is also what makes it meaningful. It is the price of loving deeply, of caring for a home even when it no longer exists as you remember it. To carry this ache is to remain connected, however tenuously, to the dreams and truths that shaped you. It is a quiet resistance, a refusal to forget, and perhaps a hope that one day the road home will no longer feel so far.

In this bittersweet longing lies a paradox: the further I drift from the place I once called my second home, the more I cherish what it stood for. And though I cannot return, the echoes of its spirit remain with me—a reminder that even in loss, there is love, and even in impossibility, there is hope.

Fiery glance exchanged, as the midnight shined. In the passion's grip, your heart's forever mine. You said that lying below six feet Dared to lie again? You cheat! With every heartbeat, our hearts would've sealed,The love that was our shared fleet. But you chose another way,Decided to betray. I never thought it would ever be, but;Shared was something else that I couldn't see. Through life's joys and tears, we'll stand as one. We promised this together as one. Though standing was only for me, and for you? None! Commitments were hollow, forged serene. Betrayal was shown as a stage scene. Different is the way to see the truth. Denial, a trance; abandon, a chance. Changing colors is what chameleons are good with. Did you learn from it as you drifted? How would you answer?Providence didn't give you a chance. I hope you speak the truth there,As there would be a chastisement. Crimson vows that were made got ruptured at the seams,Torn was something that wasn't restored as it seemed.

so yk how in my last issue on this i said i was gonna write every dad for a week, yeah, that didnt happen, ill start it again when i go back to school. (hopefully)

Once, a skateboarding rat named Rata Yonqui wowed everyone with his amazing tricks. One day, he spotted a nervous squirrel struggling to skate and decided to help him. With patience and encouragement, Rata taught the squirrel the basics. His kindness proved that helping others brings true joy. The End.

In a small, bustling town where laughter echoed through the streets, there lived a clown named Sizzle. With his wild, rainbow-colored hair that seemed to have a life of its own and his oversized shoes that flopped with every step, Sizzle was a sight to behold. He wore a big red nose that honked whenever he squeezed it, and his face was painted with a goofy grin that never seemed to fade.

Sizzle was known far and wide for his silly antics. He had a knack for getting into all sorts of trouble, mostly because he was so spacey. One sunny afternoon, while performing at a children's birthday party, Sizzle attempted to juggle colorful balls. But as he tossed them up in the air, he became distracted by a butterfly fluttering by. In a moment of distraction, he accidentally launched one of the balls straight into a cake, sending frosting flying everywhere! The kids erupted in giggles, and even though Sizzle felt a little embarrassed, he couldn't help but join in the laughter.

His heart was as big as his shoes, and he always meant well, but sometimes his silliness got the better of him. Whether it was tripping over his own feet or accidentally squirting water from his flowered lapel, Sizzle's daily life was a whirlwind of laughter and chaos.