it's not the first time that someone has told me that i'm so happy-go-lucky, and it definitely won't be the last. seriously, me? happy-go-lucky? funny how i've never thought of myself as that. melancholic, perhaps. melodramatic even. if only they know how difficult it is for me to put aside the little things in life that makes me sad. the only way i know how to deal with it is to push it out of my mind. no matter how much time has passed, the pain still lingers. the frustration, the denial, the sadness. i've just learnt to apathetic about the death of my granddad, i've just forgotten how phone calls in the middle of the night jars me, and he is dead for more than 16 years now. i'm slow in handling and accepting such matters of the heart. when i close my eyes, sometimes i can still see the final moment of my aunty, so morbid and dark. i try not to think of the loss of my closest and dearest friend, lest it brings tear to my eyes and brimming frustration to my heart. i can still remember the apprehension of visiting my grandma in the hospital, knowing what's inevitable but yet putting on a brave front. i remember all that which i do not want to remember.

however, i do not wish to live my life brooding, and being afraid. death is not as frightening as being the one left behind. it does not take courage to die, but it requires a lot to live. so, yes, to all those who do not see this side of me, the side that only my mirror sees, i am a happy-go-lucky person. to all appearance, i am.