February, the Month That Teaches Me to Be Gentle

February always feels quieter than the other months.

It doesn’t rush.

It doesn’t demand grand resolutions or loud transformations.

It simply arrives—short, soft, and a little tender.

This month reminds me that not everything needs to bloom loudly to matter.

Some days in February feel heavy.

Some mornings begin with tired bones, unspoken emotions, and small misunderstandings that linger longer than they should. Other days surprise me—with warmth, with kindness, with moments that feel like quiet reassurances from the universe.

I’m learning that growth doesn’t always look like progress. Sometimes, growth looks like rest. Sometimes, it looks like showing up anyway. Sometimes, it looks like choosing softness when the world feels sharp.

This month, I am practicing:

Letting myself move at a gentler pace

Not explaining my feelings to people who aren’t ready to hear them

Trusting that small efforts still count

Allowing quiet days to be meaningful too

February teaches me that it’s okay to pause without quitting. To feel deeply without apologising. To be emotional and still strong. To be tired and still worthy.

If you’re reading this and feeling a little behind, a little lost, or a little fragile—please know this: You’re not late. You’re not broken. You’re simply human, moving through a tender season.

As this short month unfolds, I hope we give ourselves permission to breathe. To soften. To take things one day at a time.

Not everything needs to be fixed this month. Some things just need to be held gently.

And that is more than enough. 🌙✨

✨ Stars ✨

Quiet ones don’t shout.

They stay

steady, patient,

doing their work from far away.

Even when clouds pass,

even when the night feels heavy,

they don’t disappear.

They wait.

You’re allowed to be like that too—

soft light,

no performance,

still enough.

Rest under them tonight.

You don’t need to shine louder.

You’re already there. 🌌

Statement at the Station

Under the hum of flickering lights,

a pen waits, trembling in its duty.

The air smells of paper and polish,

of stories sealed in quiet ink.

A chair creaks—truth takes its seat.

Words march out, hesitant soldiers,

each one carrying a fragment

of what the heart remembers.

The officer nods, steady as stone,

eyes tracing the path of confession.

Outside, sirens bloom like restless flowers,

their petals fading into distance.

When the final line is signed,

silence folds the room in half.

Somewhere between fear and relief,

a soul exhales

lighter, but never the same.

My 2026 message

Dear 2026,

I arrive gently, carrying all that 2025 taught me.

I step forward with softer expectations and braver hope.

I choose patience over rushing, truth over pleasing, rest over proving.

May this year meet me with steadier mornings and kinder nights.

May my work be honest, my heart protected, and my creativity free.

I will listen to my body, honour my boundaries, and trust my quiet voice.

I welcome growth that doesn’t hurt, success that doesn’t cost my peace,

and love that feels safe, mutual, and proud.

If there are storms, I will remember how to breathe.

If there is light, I will let myself receive it fully.

Here I am, 2026—

not perfect, but present.

Not loud, but strong.

Ready to begin, one gentle day at a time.

🌙✨

2025 — A Quiet Accounting

This year did not arrive with fireworks.

It came softly,

in mornings that asked me to wake anyway,

in bus rides where rain blurred the city

and my thoughts followed.

I learned that strength does not always speak.

Sometimes it listens.

Sometimes it stays.

Sometimes it chooses not to explain.

There were days I felt too much

and days I felt not enough.

I carried both.

I learned to place them side by side

without demanding they cancel each other out.

I wrote even when words trembled.

I rested even when guilt whispered.

I set boundaries that felt awkward

and kept kindness that felt essential.

I did not become fearless.

I became steadier.

I did not rush toward happiness.

I walked toward honesty.

This year taught me

that healing is not loud,

that growth can be quiet,

that softness can hold its own weight.

As the year closes,

I am not tying everything neatly.

I am laying it down gently.

What stayed, stayed for a reason.

What left, taught me something.

What remains is enough.

I end this year

not perfected,

not finished,

but present.

And that is how I will begin again.

Journal — Releasing the Urge

Tonight, Aveline spoke loudly.

Not because she wanted chaos,

but because she was tired of carrying silence.

She thought that being known

would finally make the ache stop.

That if the truth stepped into daylight,

everything would settle.

But I see it more clearly now.

Not every truth needs a witness.

Not every feeling needs to be placed

in the hands of someone who cannot hold it safely.

Aveline does not need him to know

in order to exist.

She was born from my need for steadiness,

for kindness,

for a voice that does not dismiss me.

I thank her for speaking.

I thank her for wanting honesty.

And now, I let her rest.

What stays is this:

my boundaries,

my work,

my quiet strength,

and the parts of me that are real

even when unseen.

Tonight, I choose safety over exposure.

Clarity over impulse.

Rest over resolution.

Aveline can sleep.

So can I.

22 December — MC Day

This morning began with pain and dizziness, and I found myself calling for medical help. I went to the hospital alone, feeling a mix of fear and relief. The tests came back alright, and I was discharged with medicine and a reminder to take things slowly. Along the way, I still managed to help someone who needed translation, even while feeling unwell.

Now I’m home, tired but grateful that I chose to seek treatment and listen to my body. Some words today stung, and some moments felt overwhelming, but I am learning to put my health first and rest when I need to.

Journal Note — 19 December

Today, I realised that boundaries can create pain on both sides. I felt hurt when I heard the words “go, go, go,” but I also sensed that he was carrying his own weight and pressure. It wasn’t personal — just a moment where two people had different roles, different limits, and different feelings. I walked away still caring, still learning, and trying to understand that sometimes respect comes in quiet, imperfect ways.

A Whirlwind Morning Inside a Quiet Heart

This morning was whirlwind

I was at home alone 

My mum was out running errands 

She came back with our lunch and some stuff

I ate and went out with her for my dental appointments 

She was harsh and fierce

I was very tired

The dentist made me uncomfortable 

Asking questions

Checking all my teeth

Pulling my mouth

I was feeling anxious 

Pulling away

Communication with mum was challenging

I bought my bread for tomorrow

I went away to the printing shop without telling my mum

People laughed and avoided me

I board the bus back home with my mum

More tension at home

I prepared for work tomorrow 

Feeling overwhelmed 

Trying to take things one step at a time

I choked during dinner

Mum criticised me everytime

About money

Born To Stay

I deleted the message.

Not out of anger,

but because my heart

deserves a softer room.

They sent a video

to call me dance monkey,

typed my name

like a punchline.

I said, Stop it,

and when “sorry” came,

I still chose peace

over replay.

This is not overreacting.

This is my quiet no.

My small, sacred shield.

At night,

Mum speaks before sleep,

a few brief words

held between dramas and sighs.

I answer anyway.

Somewhere under the sharpness

there is still a thread,

and I am the one

who keeps it from breaking.

Aidah does not follow back

on TikTok.

The screen stays silent,

and for a moment

it stings.

But my worth

is not a number,

not a notification,

not a blue tick

or a view count.

I am still me

when the world is quiet.

My teeth remember

what my mind cannot say.

Two broken edges,

and counting,

from all the nights

I swallowed pain

until my jaw

took the impact.

My body shouts

what my voice learned

to hide.

Still,

I did not disappear.

There were days

I could have left the story

by my own hand,

could have let the darkness

win its final argument.

But I stayed.

I stayed for the girl

who once believed

teachers loved her

because she tried.

I stayed for the woman

who walks into work

with tired eyes

and still gives her best

between teasing,

noise,

and misunderstandings.

I stayed for the storms

I now dance through,

laughing just enough

to keep the sky from closing.

Progress, not perfection.

Laughter, not surrender.

Boundaries, not bitterness.

Deleting a message.

Unliking a post.

Walking away from a joke

that cuts too deep.

These are not dramas.

These are doors

I choose to close

so my soul

can finally rest.

I am quiet,

but I am not small.

I do not fit the world

that rewards noise,

but I was never built

for their approval.

I was born to shine

in my own soft way,

to carry gold in my tenderness

even when my pockets are empty,

to write poems with the same hands

that once shook

from trying to survive.

Tonight,

I lay down my phone,

my worries,

my bitten thoughts,

and whisper to myself:

I am still here.

I choose to stay.

And that choice alone

is a light

no one can delete. 🌙✨

🌙 The Courage to Keep Walking

This morning began quietly — the kind of quiet that sits softly in the bones. I stepped out with a simple reminder from home: wear a mask, many people are sick. So I carried that small care with me onto the buses, watching the day slowly unfold through moving windows.

Along the way, the world felt a little sharp. People bumped into me, laughed near me, kept their distance. Some moments were just clumsy accidents, others were strange and confusing. I reminded myself that not every sound belongs to me, not every glance means something. Still, my heart felt tender with each little bruise.

I went for a haircut today and told the hairdresser honestly that my emotions weren’t doing well. She didn’t judge. She simply said, “Don’t care too much about others.” Her voice was calm, almost like she was brushing away the heaviness sitting on my shoulders. Maybe I needed that reminder more than I realised.

Later, memories of my Primary 4 teacher surfaced. She was strict, but kind in all the right ways. She encouraged me and gave me stickers when I tried my best. She passed away long ago, yet today, she felt close — like a quiet guide reminding me to stay steady.

The day carried on with a mix of errands and moments: visiting family, buying lunch and dinner, running into strangers who bumped past me or laughed at the wrong times. It wasn’t a smooth day, but it was real, and I kept moving through it.

In the middle of everything, I made a brave decision.

I submitted one of my books to a professional award.

The payment failed three times before it finally went through — each attempt stressing me out more than the last. But eventually, it succeeded. And in that small win, I heard a gentle whisper: “Your work matters.” Today, I believed it.

Life’s realities also returned — pending bills, a tooth appointment coming, and mum reminding me to save money. Somewhere between it all, the monk’s words echoed softly in my mind:

“不要执着 — don’t cling too tightly.

Everywhere is good.”

Maybe that’s the heart of today.

Not that everything was easy,

not that everyone was kind,

not that I felt strong every moment…

But that I kept walking anyway.

I kept breathing.

I kept choosing softness.

I kept choosing myself.

Tonight, I am ending with this truth:

Even when the world feels noisy,

I still have the courage to keep walking.

And that is enough.

🌙✨

🌙 Evening Light on a Heavy Day

Today pressed on your shoulders,

soft places turned tense,

and the world felt a little too sharp

for a heart as tender as yours.

But even in the rush,

even in the scolding,

even in the moments that made

your stomach twist and your chest ache—

you stayed gentle.

You walked through the noise

with quiet strength,

holding your own hurt

without letting it harden you.

And now, in this small pause,

let yourself breathe again.

Let the weight slide off

like dusk settling over the sky.

You are allowed to rest.

You are allowed to feel.

You are allowed to be held

by something soft tonight.

Tomorrow will rise

with a little more space,

a little more light,

and a heart that keeps learning

how to stay kind

in a world that forgets how.

Rest Day Stars 🌟

⭐ Emotional Awareness Star

I recognised when I felt hurt, suffocated, and tight in the chest.

That’s courage.

⭐ Honesty Star

I shared my real feelings instead of hiding them.

That’s strength.

⭐ Self-Reflection Star

I explored your fears, needs, and the meaning of gentle treatment.

That’s growth.

⭐ Coping Star

Even though I am struggling, I didn’t explode or react recklessly.

My heart stayed soft.

⭐ Self-Care Star

I chose comfort and rest for the night.

That’s me taking care of myself.

So for today, my stars:

🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟

5 Rest Stars

Rest days count too.

Healing counts too.

My emotions count too.

🌙 The Evening the Sky Spoke Softly

She walked home under a sky that felt a little too big for her mood.

The day had been noisy — people laughing in corners she wasn’t part of, moments happening without her, the kind of silence that feels like you’re standing just outside the doorway of someone else’s world.

So she took the long route home.

Not because she needed more walking, but because she needed the air to untangle her feelings.

Halfway down the path, a soft breeze brushed across her cheek.

Not strong, not dramatic… just enough to remind her that the world wasn’t trying to hurt her. It was simply moving, the way skies move, the way tides change, the way hearts slowly shift toward gentler places.

She paused under a lamp post.

The light above her flickered once, then glowed steady — like it decided she needed clarity tonight.

And in that small, still moment, she realised something:

Even if others forget her,

even if she isn’t in anyone’s photos today,

even if her name is not called,

she still exists in the quiet parts of the world —

and the world sees her.

The breeze sees her.

The light sees her.

Her own heart sees her.

She placed a hand over her chest.

It was still beating, still trying, still believing in tomorrow.

And somehow, that felt enough.

Enough to take the next step.

Enough to keep going.

Enough to stay soft.

She walked home slowly, letting the night carry her gently —

and for the first time that day, she didn’t feel left out.

She felt… held.

⭐ Today’s Work Stars — Sports Day Edition

1. Kindness & Heart — ⭐⭐⭐⭐

You:

Gave your plushie to Mui Lian when she cried (this is a big-hearted move).

Helped the four sisters remove wristbands.

Said sorry when you bumped into someone.

Moved away politely when Xin Hui coughed.

Your kindness never switched off, even when people were upset with you.

2. Resilience & Emotional Control — ⭐⭐⭐

You stayed calm even when:

The water was disgusting.

Saufiq teased your smile.

Xin Hui scolded you multiple times.

You felt awkward or unsure.

You were rejected to sing.

Ah Chew scratched your face.

You didn’t explode. You held steady.

3. Team Spirit & Participation — ⭐⭐⭐⭐

You joined:

Ball games

Taekwondo

Archery

Singing

Group activities

You showed up fully, even when nervous.

4. Communication & Social Effort — ⭐⭐⭐

You talked to:

Teck Mui

Sherman

Si Rong

Saufiq

Aidah

Your mum

You waved to people, sat with them, and tried to follow directions. That’s real effort.

5. Responsibility & Following Instructions — ⭐⭐⭐

You listened to Mr Satha, even when unsure.

You queue, join, participate, and do your part.

He said he’s proud of you — that’s huge.

6. Courage — ⭐⭐⭐⭐

You handled:

Teasing

Rejection

Scolding

Physical pain (your scratched face)

Almost slipping in the bathroom

Traveling home alone

Trying three times to book a taxi

You still finished the day strong.

---

🌟 Total Work Stars Today: 15 Stars

Work and rest stars 🌟

⭐ Work Stars (19 Nov)

✨ Five Stars — Awareness, Effort, Resilience, Kindness, and Focus

Today you worked through a very busy, emotional, and social day — but you still:

Tried your best with the Chinese New Year stickers

Handled confusing moments with calm

Helped colleagues pass decorations

Managed small mistakes without giving up

Stayed focused even when people teased, stared, or moved away

Communicated with Teck Mui, Sherman, and others

Completed your tasks strongly and got affirmation from Mr Satha

Managed sensitivity moments at the bus stop

Packed your bag for tomorrow despite stress at home

Your effort showed in every small action. 🌷

Five work stars for you today. 🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟

🌙 Rest Stars

✨ Three Stars — Reflection, Self-care, and Recovery

Tonight, even with:

Toothache

Stress with your mum

Emotional exhaustion

Touchy feelings at home

Tension about food and rules

You still:

Stayed aware of your feelings

Ate your dinner

Prepared your things for tomorrow

Reflected on what you’re grateful for

Tried to stay calm and not argue too much

Three rest stars for taking care of yourself even when everything felt heavy. 🌙⭐️⭐️⭐️

Morning Notes (Anonymous Edition)

This morning felt heavy before the sun even settled in.

I woke up feverish, still tired from the night, and the house was filled with sharp voices.

On the bus, someone kicked my leg, someone else shifted away, and another slammed the toilet door again.

Little things kept brushing against me — the shortcuts people took, the looks, the noise.

But I still kept moving:

breakfast, the lift, the quiet bench, the slow steps into the day.

Work felt busy with updates, small comments, missing faces, and sudden opinions.

I just tried to stay steady, even when everything around me felt unsettled.

Through Rain, Heat, and Small Collisions

Morning arrived with heat and nausea,

a body unsteady, a breath held tight.

Steps hurried beneath wet skies,

buses passing like moments I missed.

Strangers brushed against me

without knowing the weight I carried,

and even kindness slipped from my hand

before I could hold it close.

Yet I kept walking 

through the rain, the echoes, the small alarms 

finding my seat beside another soul,

still learning how to hold space,

even when the day began in fragments.

🌟 Work Stars – 13 Nov 3 Stars of Resilience

Today was tough — fever, stomach discomfort, and many small moments that made the day feel heavier. People bumped into you, some laughed, and you felt misunderstood. But you still showed up, did your tasks, handled corrections, and went to see the doctor. You noticed the good bits too — Sherman’s care, Mr Tan’s concern, and even little things like lychee drink on a rainy day. Despite everything, you continued step by step.

Three stars for showing up, enduring, and taking care of your health. 🌷

🌅 Morning Summary (Anonymous Edition)

Mum hurried me at 6 a.m. and warned she’d leave if I was late. I felt frustrated and pushed her slightly before heading out. I missed bus 28, so we took 293T together. A lady checked our EZ-Link cards. A schoolgirl kept staring; in the toilet, the door banged and people rushed. I saw someone kick another girl’s shoe before crossing the road filled with bicycles.

Later, a bicycle came very close to my phone and watch, and a girl sneezed on my bag. I pushed someone aside while trying to board the shuttle bus first. Inside the workshop, I greeted my trainer politely, helped a colleague with English–Chinese words, and joined small morning chats.

A relationship quote stayed with me:

“Come together to make each other better — support, build, believe, and be each other’s peace.”