Overridden by Thoughts[Personal Narrative Essay]


‘Wah’ the voice echoed through the tunnel of his mind. 

In the mesmerizing moonlight, through the window, as the cloudless sky of early April spotlighted the lunar, there was a dimly lit hall-way of the traditional wooden Khmer house that was unusually silent with no creaking nor is the wind whispering through the narrow gap of the wooden flooring; the hallway stood completely in stark contrast to the whirlwind of emotions that had awakened in him. Bandeth was smearing his eyes to gain momentary clarity from the abundance of debris and dust gathered during the daytime, as well as binding all his chaotic thoughts together after awakening from the illusions his brain had conjured. In the quiet night, reality seems unimaginably surreal due to the nature of things when isolated. He was well aware of human nature and its norms, yet his psyches’ understanding was in contrast to his logical thoughts. As the minutes passed by, the stillness of reality remained unchanging and so did his thoughts, perpetually spinning itself confused, until a particular signal was brought to light, and had him reminiscing moments of the past. In the light of those thoughts, he was wondering how he had fared in this so-called reality of the world, for he had never felt so unfamiliar with the reality that we all humans had agreed upon. 

His bloodstream flooded with questions as the timeless night had been halted with insurmountable confusions as his brain had been pressurized and his heart had been tightened questioning images of the past calling upon the crisis of existential level. The main question that had him thinking was: What am I? The simple-sounding question had him bewildered; its confounding essence is inapplicable for any word to describe it. The moment of confusion at 2 AM was forsaken of his logical thoughts, most importantly his inner monologue was shut off. Yet that question that surmounted all five senses had been hanging imminently. 

In one of the images his mind had conjured, it has vaguely shown the shortness of breath of a half-naked boy, along with his aunt trotting early in the morning. “Exercising will do you good, my lovely son” expressed his aunt. Unfortunately, he did not take it to heart, or rather he was not able to, as his mind was too free to wander the sophistication of good and advantageous. He looked his aunt in the eyes and smiled, I could do it was all he was thinking about with his gleaming eyes. What he was, at the time, was not the matter that had come into his mind, with little to no inkling toward what reality was, doing all that was expected of him was what occupied his little brain. 

His mind was not much to talk about at that moment, as it was too naive and too short-lived to condense into a message to be remembered. Although he was stimulated with ambitions, he was able to cope with everything other than being reprimanded for his study. His name was ‘Bandeth’, which had gone through numerous iterations and his aunt felt satisfied with the last one, so ‘Bandeth’ it was since then. Bandeth is particularly a Cambodian name, yet it was a presumptuous one as it implies the child was meant to accomplish the ten de-facto rights, or modernized term for when a person achieved a doctorate degree in his profession, hence the name was rarely heard of. And his instinctive reaction that represented fear at the time was the saltiness of the feelings of incompetence, accordingly, it was within his ability to fulfill all that was expected. Yet it has never occurred to him that there will be a time when situations do not allow for such tenderness to pass its grip. Trepidation was not in place, or rather, it was ignored for the moment. 


A plate was raised with a chubby hand into the air, ‘May I have another plate of rice, please’ followed the now 10 years old boy, asking his aunt for another plate of rice he had just finished. With her worn-out fingers, she accepted the plate that was passed to her slender hand, and shifted her body to the nearby rice pot, and shifted back to put more meat without the assurance from the boy, and she did so happily. And seemingly obtuse to the daggering eyes, he ignored the vinegar smell in the air of the dinner circle. Bandeth had been living with his aunt in Phnom Penh for more than 2 years, and at that moment he was well aware that even an ordinary rock painted gold was a target of envy. 

Abruptly, his third cousin swallowed the white rice he was about to side with the meats, finishing the last bits on the plate, raised his head up, and proceeded to leave the dinner circle. ‘Oh ah Rey, you are filled?’ his aunt inquired. ‘Yes, I am full and I will have to finish my assignments’, replied Rey in his usual indifferent tone, as well as not forgetting to look at Bandeth in the eyes to only find his ever-smiling face. Yet it was not returned, the smile still hung on his face turned into a grin. ‘Aunt, I think the garage downstairs have gathered quite the dust since everyone are busy at work, and no one was to take care of the house during the daytime, it is not so pleasing to the eyes, some work would definitely help!’ said Bandeth, hinting at the people responsible for the task, and sure enough, he was satisfied with the ringing red ears of his cousin. 

Finishing the meals took quite a while, and the mind games continue to never cease. On the surface, Bandeth’s situation was looking completely normal, however seemingly sound, his head was entirely occupied with calculated steps and strategies to come out on top at home. Additionally, his life in school was quite a complicated hustle. Although he was not doing badly academically, he was facing an entire class of silver spoons whose money could literally suppress his voice. They have seen his encouraging and positive attitude to be provocative and challenging their status, and his effort in reconciliation was in vain, only adding fuel to the fire. 

Repeatedly, he had remained standing atop the mountains of challenges of the two worlds he was living in. In fact, he was aloof in his actions, facing the moments of hardship, and remained numb in each of those moments. Judging on face values, he looks fine. Good job of him keeping it in the dark, at least the surface does not seem unsightly! 

Ding dong!!! Fast-forwarding two years later, another image appeared in the present-time sleepless boy, who had wrapped himself with the blanket that had once been on a corpse, seemingly scared but by no means was he scared of his lovely grandma who had unfortunately passed away. 

Another image of an even chubbier hand pressing against the dark fence of an unfamiliar balcony, dressed in the student’s usual white top coupled with the wide-waist black pants, Bandeth had just encountered another adventure, not long after the disarray of educations in both Phnom Penh and Kampong Cham, the capital of Cambodia and his hometown respectively. Falling short after his return from Phnom Penh, he was fortunate enough to become a student at Liger, it was then, Liger Learning Center. Specifically, ‘center’ had been the element of surprise at the time, but I am gonna come out on top was all he was thinking about, neglecting another aspect of a boarding school. 

After taking the tour guided by the two senior members of the first cohort, he was told to unpack his packages of clothes and necessities for the boarding school, and students’ parents were ready to leave their promising children at a place they will be calling home for the next 7 years.  ‘Ah Oun! Mak is leaving Okay? Be sure to call us after you have your dinner!’ uttered his mom, as she was waving her hand in front of his face, had Bandeth awaken from the momentary daze. 

Wait, what?!!! You are leaving? He was thinking with widened eyes, seeming completely clueless and unprepared. Yes! He was not prepared in this new world that is completely out of character with what he had been dealing with. And to simply put, it was a rough journey to get accustomed to getting used to Liger. Situations he had been dealing with were filled with familiar variables and advantageous grounds he could exploit, but that does not seem to be the case at Liger, the characters have equal powers, additionally, each is unfamiliar, leaving many unknown variables. Faced with such a situation, Bandeth was left crying his way to sleep every night during his first few months at Liger. I do not want to be here! These people are weird. The first day I came, everyone was dancing and singing as monkeys had just been released from their restricting cage. Awful! What are these children doing? He thought as if he was not a child himself, instead was stressed by how he could not figure out everyone’s weaknesses, and therefore was greatly uneased. 

One early morning, he had his observant eyes on the lookout for his peers’ mistakes in housekeeping, and hopefully, he was thinking of unraveling the mistakes during the weekly house meeting with the house mom. Somewhat accidental for him, his house mom was eyeing his action from the side. At the first moment, she was unsure of what he was thinking but she answered when the house was in the meeting. ‘I think the floor was quite sticky this morning…’ leaving the latter part, ‘I think I should not say anything,’ in the mumble behind his breath, seemingly uncomfortable in insinuating that someone did not do their work. And it does miracles, as she made sure to tell someone twice to broom the whole floor. But it was not left untouched;  the moment he grinned in bliss, the mom’s head shifted sharply to his direction, she reprimanded ‘You, on the other hand, shouldn’t be so scheming,’ she paused and smiled, ‘you got much more problems than he does. Look at your housework, how has Bandeth’s work been, can anyone tell me? ‘ Frozen speechless, his grin turned into a grimace. As if the whole room had raised their hands to answer the mom’s question, countless thoughts ran through his mind. And these thoughts continue to torment him relentlessly in their effort. Slowly, powerlessness seeps into him, wrecking his confidence bit by bit as each incident at the eccentric school unraveled his views of the world, and ultimately, had stolen his egotistic sense of control. 

Since then, the sleepless nights are common occurrences like an ancient sage preaching over his failures, and teaching him success. Lessons learned, new problems arise. When old wounds had soothed, new wounds would gnaw at his very bones; it had become a perpetual cycle that started with countless problematic thoughts and always ended the round with countless lessons that never ceased to implicate another cycle. 

P.S. The first few sentences of this narrative essay are not meant to be understood by the senses of words and literacy, but to be felt by unique interpretations of each individual’s psyche. In the turmoil of humanly indulging of possessions, whether they be physical or mental, they will continue to shroud you in a reality unbeknown to yourself but a reality accepted by all. I, myself, am still a slave to humane possessions but my life goes on, so does understanding of the world continues to deconstruct itself, unsure of what it will become. But the experiences that were written carefully in the first few sentences were meant to construct an image beyond the senses of reality by using the five senses. It does not concern the so-called rules that we had made up, instead only read what is felt beyond the understandings of words. Live, come back and read again. If you get nothing, you might have not lived enough. And whether you feel happy, or sad, or even thinking the author had fallen into insanity, after reading this narrative; you shall proceed to do so as you desire, and I will continue to smile vacantly. 


Want a challenge?

Petal Encryption

Here is a riddle that I have made, hinting at the encryption in this picture. Comments the answer down below!!!


I am a very different person in different environments but what really defines me is my curiosity yet very impatiently passionate with my work. Mentally, I take on anxiety as a challenge. When you are anxious you tend to panic, to finish in a rush, or to be overly cautious; it is what puts me into a state of awareness, a type of energy that springs from anxiety.  

Of course, happiness is counted on this list. What makes you happiest is what you have gained through sweat and tears,  not what you have taken for granted. So by thinking of happiness as the process continues, I have built-up my determination and learned to savor the process. Therefore, many times I am happy that I am sad, many moments that I am happy that I am hurt; because I know I will be happy. 

My life is not for me to own, 

It’s a dedication that none have ownership, It starts from me but rooted from my love ones; my sacred aunts Sitha comes first with her love and devotion to see this sprout arise, then my dear mom and dad who no matters what supports me, my aunt Danny who is a second mother to me. They gave me life and I shall live it to its fullest. 

I believe they won’t care about my sexuality as long as I live my life to the fullest. What they concern about is that I will be laughed upon, that I will feel ashamed about in the future; thus wanting to prevent me from social pressure. ‘My family empowers me the most’.And that’s a phrase that will forever be embedded in my soul.

During one of the classes, I was introduced to a philosophy that drastically changed my life.  I found myself very energized by the aesthetic of continuous improvement ideology; Kaizen.  This ideology forces me into an ever-changing, open state of mind that every positive change on every little aspect of life will eventually create a better, but not perfect, self. Music is my last resort toward empowerment in life. The art itself is very diverse, there are many interpretations that can be used to empower life. Either sad settling classical music or positive beating hip-hop-modern music, they serve the purpose of setting down the ambiance and bringing all the juice of the moment.

You can be empowered by everything that YOU can take advantage of, what matters is how grateful you are.

Traces of Smoke

The murmur of drums cascading through the front door, gods griefing silently. The little green man who was awakened by such a sudden phenomenon, with a blissful smile he hugged himself warmth. The diamond suddenly paled when the emerald illuminated its rhombus. The mousy powder pureed with little sprinkles of lightning, frigid whisper, and serene dimming light but the cockerel has yet to rise. The little fellow and his kind sways in the soothing air, emitting the aura when the big old Reddie is not around; the morning air of serenity. 

Promptly, a trace of smoke blossomed out of the far away Neverland, the green little man started getting premonitions. His hand started to sweat, abruptly his heart started to beat, his breath quickened, his head feeling heavier and heavier like twenty rubber bands were coiled around his head each second. He then started yelling, screaming, and furiously whacking his body toward his friends, who had no idea what caused their friend to commit this outrageous act, anger is contagious. He was then beaten into a pulp; his beautiful big emerald hair that extended upward like blades pointing toward the sky was torn beyond recognition, his smooth and yellow babies were taken, his body fluid spilled sticky everywhere.

 ‘When smokes of negativity have trailed into my life, I know I can’t stop this anxiety attack from taking my life; if not my life, my future,’-the green little man. 

There is a story in every life but when the story ends, life doesn’t. Unfortunately, this story ended when life ended since we expected no hell for us to spring from.

Aperture One: Regrets

As agents of change and leaders that are currently under the guidance of Liger Leadership Academy, we ought to be able to stand up and play the part of leadership we have been inspired to be. Liger is a cultivated atmosphere of students who aspire to make an impact, a comfortable environment that encourages its students to chase their passion, and the window to look for sweet and bitter remembrances. From a Cambodian perspective, Liger is a place of miracles.  

Virak Bandeth. Virak is a common name for Cambodian, brought upon the new-born the fate of heroes. Bandeth, on the other hand, is a rarely seen name in a place that has just been healed from the history of gruesome genocide; the child will be expected to be a miracle. 

I remembered sitting at a desk, little streams of light through the small aperture of the roof, in the gloomy, cluttered corner of the tattered house of mine. It was the burning sensation of the summer of 2019, the long-awaited period of the year that was about to end as fast as it started. I was feeling dizzy from the hallucinations, which I knew that was what I believed to be, a hazy mindedness. I was minding my little dreams that dated far too long before humans existed, dreaming of how high I could have climbed the mountain, dreaming of how much I could devour, dreaming of how pleasant the reward could be. Until then, at the death of the summer, did I realize that it was all just a dream; pondering over what I have accomplished, that was nearly negligible, by contrast, I was pulled into the gratifying fantasies instead of continuing my baby steps toward success. At one moment,  I was hating my selflessness to believe in everyone’s expectations; I was even more enraged when I knew I was cluelessly taking on a journey with no destination. At the other moment, I was feeling breathless in my regrets that were brought from thinking of the time I was idly living from the past few years at Liger. But I was too embarrassed to even ask for help from anyone because of bearing the name ‘Bandeth’; a rarely seen name in a place that has just been healed from the history of gruesome genocide; the child will be expected to be a miracle. The miracle that couldn’t be irresponsible of their fault, they have the mind to solve if they have the ‘will’. 

 I needed to capture my ‘wills’. 

At that very moment, in my head, I started to visualize my goal of becoming a better human. I have the plan to cultivate my soul by completing the three main ‘wills’. 

The first will was to be more humane. The goal here is simple and clear; to be more compassionate and to empathize with the people of Cambodia and the world. As born in Cambodia, a Khmer who knew nothing about his own country is immeasurably disappointing, I admit to myself of this shameful fact. 

The second will was to write more. Writing is a relic that was invented to bridge together the ancients and the futures.  Writing in any manner is beneficial to a person’s life, it enables those individuals to define themselves of all the uncertainty in the world. Starting the year, I told myself to befriend books and pencils. I knew that I was not empowered to be achieving greatly in literature, still, expectations befitting the learned ones are the preferable lengthy, complex writings filled with massive amounts of information. 

Finally, the third will was to consistently improve; Kaizen. During the school year of 2019, among all the classes of Advanced Enrichment, there is one particular class that every student walks in feeling lost in the chaos of the world, to only later walks out arguing how short-sighted a human could be, the class of ‘Global Current Events’. On the day of 13th December, I remembered walking in with a dark shroud of gloomy shadow hung over my head. The class was filled with students who had their mouth glistening with grease after a snack break, they seemed to be stimulated from the sugar within, noises answering the whereabouts of students who were not there. Our facilitator, Teacher Bunthan Un, then proceeded to talk about our lesson of the day. ‘Today, we are looking at Japan’, or somewhere along the lines that would pique my interest. Kaizen, continuous improvement. There and then, I found out that this philosophical thinking was similar to my goals in many ways. 

Bliss, Anger, Anxiety, Excitement, Frustration can all be the root of regrets. Among all questions of the mind, the abnormal regret is a dual-sided blade. A perfect allegory to most people’s regrets is ‘the gas in a lost balloon swaying in the sky’.Regrets push you up the sky but to where? Regrets can explode the gas that has swelled up in you but are you willing to fall and let go of your life? Regrets make you restless; do you explode so you fall back to your comfort or keep levitating to nowhere? Regret is the epitome of all mortal madness.

Unexpectedly, I  was fated upon a project that best reflected the act of changing Cambodia, I was allowed to grasp on to the wondrous world of electricity.  

The Electricity of Cambodia Exploration was led by our facilitator Keith Simpson, aiming to make contributions toward the new Economic of Cambodia website; another project covers the whole scope of the economy in the Kingdom of Cambodia. As explained a few times in other articles, an Exploration is a seven weeks long project. In the span of this seven weeks, we were trying to achieve 1)Understanding electricity that includes basic information (Method to make electricity, history of electricity invention, how each method affects the environment…), as well as the network of Cambodia electricity and its economy 2)Be a part of the change toward electricity in Cambodia. 

To be a part of the change toward a country, it must start with its people. As we started to look into methods Cambodians are using to generate electricity, Keith started to introduce us to more organizations that lead toward one path, sustainable and accessible electricity. Okra Solar was one of the organizations that we were introduced to, also one of the leading organizations that provide sustainable energy to rural areas far from the electricity grid.

Guided by the said organization, we were set on to meet residents in a designated rural area of Kampong Speu province, we got to experience the hands-on assembly of the smart grid technology and its implementation for the residents through a couple of interviews.   

Being a part of this project has taken a toll on my brain, the inability to completely process and manage the information that I was being fed, it was frustrating how much time I spent reading each sentence aloud. I regretted it. I will shamefully admit that, as a change agent, I wasn’t taking the whole project as a significant change in my journey. Despite all of that, an awareness has sprouted in my mind. I noticed a smile; during the trip to Kampong Speu, we had an interview with an elderly woman of the village, her smile was genuine about the topic of her electricity usage. “I always use the electricity provided by the installed smart grids of the house on the ‘lap-top’, it’s for watching dramas’ ”, she proudly explained about her portable DVD player with a swivel monitor in the shape similar to a lap-top.  Her smile that I noticed, it told a story.

Then, we further inquired, ‘How many people are in this house? And who do you live with?’, that abruptly saddened her smile. ‘My children have all grown up, now they are working in the factory far away from home. I live alone’, she then explained. It’s a story of an old lady accompanied by her trusty ‘lap-top’ to pass the day, a story of how a problem we have overlooked by the ordinary townsfolk, a story of how technology changed lives. A story reminds me of the privilege that we all have been accustomed to, a story that has left me in regret. 

The network of electricity and its economy is surely a challenge for a fourteen-year-olds publisher who desires perfection when there are bound to be slight mistakes to be able to improve as a novice. Ultimately, it progressed, even if not directly toward Cambodia, it was a great learning experience toward my journey of changing Cambodia.  

Fear and regrets. Most prodigy never fears consequences that come with growth, yet those who choose to mindlessly advance are greatly uneasy with negligible mistakes. It is all just a matter of calculation. 

 A Child’s future is determined by their present circumstances, this next story of change is a rather heart-warming experience, unfolding a sympathy between children of the same root.

In a rural village, a group of unprivileged students who had dreams that have yet to be realized was rushing in through the cemented gate. Project Little Dream.  In the village of Thnout Takeo, laid a school founded and designed by ‘fifteen university students with a common dream.’ The foreign structure of the school facilities creates an environment for productivity, students were inspired to learn. However, as a change agent, Bong Srey Neang Oun noticed a problem that she could change, to leave a permanent impact. Our Senior, who is now an alumnus, was born and raised in Thnout village. Before continuing her next chapter in life, she was permitted to create an impact on her country. Having concluded changing the lives of those little children in her village, she explained that part of her education in her childhood has been the lack of good English language arts. As she explained, I could ‘see’ the spark within her eyes, I was reminded that I could be a part of this change. 

I remembered during our exploration, as the bus paved through the nutrient-rich soil, along the neverending field of greenery that will yet to turn to a grandiose golden army, along with sounds of steering wheel trying to evade a group of running children whose clothes were besmirched as dark as their skin; she described her home, her neighbor, her friends, her villages yet, ironically, if these stories were told to most children living in the urbanized cities, they were neglected as if their very mind is buried under hills of technology devices, a forgotten beginning. There, we were set on the journey to make changes.

“It’s our home, our siblings, our friends, our village, our land by the virtue of being a Cambodian, a descendant of the people who were once so splendid; our land stretched to the far north-east, our rice field laid between mountains of the north-west, our kingdom’s water was supplied from the countless streams of the river that run deeps in our culture. It was all lost in the river of time, gradually degrading. I deeply regret that all we have got to see are the barely surviving remnants of the kingdom.

When all is said and done to the best of my ability, I still lose in regrets. The regrets that I have felt during the same period last year, have presented themselves yet again; a puncture to the heart, now, however, it’s an aperture letting a stroke of light in.  Due to the benefits and hindrance of these uncertain times of the world cursed with COVID-19, they had me thinking. The window of opportunity to self-discoveries has appeared, the period of quarantine is a blessing in disguise.  It was just a lingering regret at first, yet as the days progressed, a turbulent strong enough to create a cycle of self-doubt. It was pitch black in here, yet I doubted it, I am a change agent after all. 

Don’t conform to darkness, create your light no matter how minuscule the aperture could be. The subsequent events, let it be determined by the mind’s eye. 

Since then, “Believe nothing, no matter where you read it, or who said it, no matter if I have said it unless it agrees with your own reason and your own common sense.”-Siddhartha Gautama has become my mantra for the rest of my life, it has come to be, “Doubt everything, no matter who it is, no matter what it is, or even this very quote, doubt it until it refined your reason and your own common sense,” from my perspective. 


Bloody Sundays| Comparison Of The Days That Stained The History

Bloody Sundays. What makes both bloody days so homicidal, a day with so much despair that causes mental wreckage so great to the extent of the title ‘Bloody’, different? Here we will find out the black, white and gray area of the day that had still remained a horror of the history.

Bloody Sunday in 1905, the earlier Sunday, was a declaration from the holy spirit to the great change of the monarchy. In the twenty-second of January, continuous massive waves of a powerless unjustified group consisted with the estimation of fifteen thousand people, led by the priest Georgy Gapon broke out in St. Petersburg, the former capital city of Russia. With discontent and fear from the defeated war, the Russo-Japanese war, finally broke out in front of the palace of Russia caused the chief of the imperial force, Grand Duke Vladimir, to command with unease and dismay, ordered the fire out the demonstrators from the palace. The death of 100 marchers has caused great consequences to the Tsar and his indecisive subordinates.

Bloody Sunday. A renowned day to the people of Northern Ireland was brought by the British troops. The 21 soldiers who fired their weapons in response to the raging protesters, all Northern Catholics, killing as much as 13 and leaving 17 wounded marchers. On the way to the city center, blockades were prepared for the thousands that had gathered for the rally organized by the Northern Ireland Civil Rights Association. With minds to change the newly introduced law by the government that gives authorities the power to imprison people without trial- internment.

All things considered, both Bloody Sunday was a massacre against people who fought for their rights and both massacres revolved around the ideology, intelligence, and ability as a leader of the country. The Bloody Sunday in Russia has more casualties which show that people are more determined for the change that people no longer fear death. On the other hand, you can also argue that Russia’s capitalism is also a big contribution to encourage the army to fires more, while as Bloody Sunday in Northern Ireland had fewer casualties because of the government at that time were having mercy. Nevertheless, both Bloody Sundays have caused the unjustified souls in the underworld to sigh in relief by the revolution caused by their death that had changed a whole country.

Traditional healer/Witch

It’s a tragedy,

“It is sad, but not uncommon,

It’s a story of an elderly healer”.


A story of a generous Eighty-three years old traditional healer,

Who knows how to stop children who cry, 

Who knows good medicine for women after giving birth,

Who would gladly heal any patients who wish to be cured.


At the funeral of a seventeen years old girl,

By just touching the deceased’s foot,

Rumors had it on,


Hem Ty the traditional healer,

The sorcerer,

Might be a black magic caster,

Who murdered the girl. 


Touching the foot,

Because he felt insecure,

He has to make sure,

The girl is dead.


Nobody had considered the possibility,

If it’s a reality or just a fantasy,

All they know is revenge,

Chain of acts of sabotage, 

Was set off against Ty’s family.


The healer’s innocent dog was poisoned,

A stockpile of wood is on fire,

Not just any ordinary wood,

But wood for a new HOME SWEET HOME.


Knowing it’s your last day,

Running in fear is what you would do,

It’s the same for Hem Ty too,

Do anything just to be out of sight. 


Two hours passed,

A gruesome discovery had discovered,

People fish and see fish,

But now they fished and hooked onto a shirt, 

Not just a shirt,

But with a body,

Of a traditional healer,

With a head chopped and murdered with an ax.



Blue and black, 

Moaning and Screaming

Echoes of despair 

Bruises dribbling 

Crystal clear blood.

A petrified figure 

Hung from the arch 

Of the massive cathedral 

In the Mosque.


Cramped but 

Miraculously beautiful 

Angelic frame as a Melek,

Though he shall cleanse 

In the face of 

The holy magical existence

The absolute authority 



Nonsense, ludicrous 

Are two words in his mind.

Soothing chants mumbles

Are orders that he was to obey.

A mandate to purge his strang lustful sins.


His voice.

It was soulful, dark and heavenly.

The otherworldly voice from hell is 

Promising to be forgiven and he will adore the holiness 

Forever. Forever.

While his heart, beating viciously about him imploring 

Purity, calling himself



The liar was

Booed ‘Flower’ when he 

Was ten.

‘Sissy’ when he was twelve.

He was then teased ‘twink’ by the boys,

When he was thirteen.

And now fifteen 

He is being hung 

For others as a lesson. But

No one ever knows his name. 


Here is a poem 

Whom I fantasize his life

Whom endures his fate

Who loves himself for his differences.

His name is Perilera.

I was born into

A family of five.

Five soon-to-be 

Useful sons.

Before she left, she would say

Five promising eggs

Elegant pure heron’s egg.


The first big-headed brother

Is called Ahmed which means

Greatly praise 

To his intelligence.


The second strong-willed brother

Is called Imran.

Implies the prosperity of the nation’s leader.


The third bright brother

Is called Vedad 

for his outgoing and friendliness.

The fourth tenacious brother 

Is called Kenan 

For his possessive and defensive 



As for me 

The fifth son,

I was named by my mom,

Perilera which was 

Meant to praise my petite body

As faeries. But

My dad was bickering for days 

About sin will take him from the skull, but


That was still my mom’s yearning

In her last moment 

After giving birth.

How to find your dream in the midst of influence

How to stick with your dream in the midst influence


“What career do you want to pursue?” “How much do you make?” “Is it a career abroad?”

These questions are still rumbling through my head like those electric mosquito electrocution tools.

When I was 6 years old, “You have to be careful when you play, it can leave scars and marks. With your appearance and face, you can surely be a handsome model or a famous actor.”, said my father as he inspects my body to see if there is any wound that can potentially leave scars to his beloved and handsome to-be actor.


When I was 8 years old, I remember vaguely that my mom told me enthusiastically “You gotta be a skillful doctor, dear”, she was quite envied of the neighbor’s son, who was recently hired as a doctor abroad.

“My nephew will surely become a successful businessman.” said my uncle.

“Hey stop wasting your time, start to code. You can certainly be a programmer” said my brother as he was immersed in his video game.


While my relatives keep throwing career paths that can be turned into inspiration, whereas some other suggestions make the whole situation even create turbulence in my head; you might also have no inspiration at all. If are you are lost in this labyrinth and pondering about which path you will proceed, here is a pen that will enlighten thee, erase your past and rewrite your star.


Step 1: Find your passion

   Just like how it sounds, learn what do you love. Your star can always shine brightly as others but you just have to find the right galaxy. To find your passion, the following questions will be helpful :

       What do you find beautiful? But in some cases, what do you find fun?

       What kind of person are you? What fit you?

       Are you a free spirit? Or are you a person who prefers working with someone leading you?


Step 2: Explore

   Explore. Try to find other professions that you might like more. There is no wrong or right if you just take the opportunity to explore and find your fated passion. The reason explores after knowing what your initial passion, is the world is changing drastically every day. You as a teenager might just get hyped by the flow of your peers. So get to know what that career is and how it works.

Tips: Don’t take what restrain your interest into account.


Step 3: Decision

Make your career choice. To help you decide what your future would be, make interviews – ask elders, what makes them do that career? Do they meet their expectations?

Ask them to your satisfaction, but don’t let negativity affects what you love.

And pick an occupation that satisfies you most based on all information.


Step 4: Propose

   Fear no criticism. Tell your parents or friends what you love to do, while you are at it, convince them benefits and try elaborate more about your feeling toward your career choice. In any case, they are not convinced, pull out your research; show them evidence. If they still won’t support your ideas, you just have to work harder then those with their parents covering them. Never give up.  



Round 5 – Low poly and glitch pictures

Round 5 of our multimedia/technology is the most extravagant to me. This round, unlike any other round, we were given a three weeks project that student has the option to independently do any project that is associated with media using tools like Adobe.

I chose to learn how to make a low poly picture and a glitch photo using adobe illustrator and photoshop. Adobe Photoshop is possibly known to every great professional photographer and graphic designer, it has great tools that are frequently used for resizing, crop, replace, visual effects and correct the color of a digital photo. Illustrator is another one of the Adobe products. It is developed alongside adobe photoshop as a complementary, it provides more tools for drawing and illustration on a digital picture. It is used for logos, vector graphics, and cartoons.

I chose to do this as an individual, so I got no one to help. But it seems like the lady luck are attracted to me, I chose really easy projects that are to be found anywhere on youtube and any other media platform. Although the instructions are informative with information graphics, I still face some problems. I need to maintain full focus on both the video and practicing at the same time, I usually missed some steps. I have to do the whole project again in case of forgetting the procedures.

This glitched Jimin, one of my favorite K-pop idols.

Nevertheless, I still enjoy doing this adobe project because they help opens new possibilities.