Glitter Pens

Just opened up my pencil case stuffed with my colour markers I've had since 2007... it's amazing how they haven't ran out of ink yet.

It just occurred to me that quite a few of these markers were gifted to me, a set of stabilo ones were from Nicole back in 2009, and a set of glitter pens were from my dad back in 2007/2008. In all honesty, I actually forgot that my dad used to buy me glitter pens.

Only today, I suddenly recalled that he used to. It was never pilot, or clear colour, or stabilo. It was always those 40 colour pens set you'd see in the market or pasar malams, where half the colours don't work or they were too smelly to use. My dad used to buy me so many of those, because he knew how much I loved glitter pens back then and he tried to provide for me as much as he could given our financial circumstances. I still have them in my pencil case, and I still use them to annotate on my uni notes. Just remembering where and how these pens ended up in my hands now just makes me feel so nostalgic. Don't know if I make sense right now but all I know is that I desperately need to get this off my chest before I drown in all my feels.

I really wish I could be home right now, barging into my parent's room, seeing my dad on the bed with his reading glasses resting on his nose bridge, with that focused look he has every time he reads the newspaper. I'd show him these pens and tell him that it may be a few years too late but thank him for the pens and tell him that I appreciate everything he has done to provide for our family, for me. From buying me new pens to use despite taking the train to work every day for 5 years and walking from shenton way all the way home if you had OT because you wanted to save money on the cab fare to finally being able to drive to work comfortably. From upgrading our sunday after-church lunches where we used to dapao from old airport hawker centre and eat at home to finally being able to go out after church for lunches at orchard. From surprising me at 12 years old with a china replicated ipod/mp3 player on the coffeetable one morning before I went to school - which I was seriously so happy I remember crying, to buying me my first apple ipod at 14. So many stories, and I feel like I don't appreciate the things you do for us enough 99% of the time.

You're a fighter, dad. I don't say it often and neither do you but, thank you for everything. For working your butt off to provide for this family, to get us to where we are today. Even though I've failed you a million times and tried to retaliate, I've hurt you, I've let you down but up till now, you still tell me that you love me - in your own special way. You are someone that I really look up to, and I guess maybe that's why your words can cause such a big impact on me even up till now. You barely sing praises nor encourage us but when you do....

"We are all supporting your dreams, go and make them real. Have no fear but courage...... tomorrow. Courage belongs to those who dares to dream and makes them real. Every trial in life offers opportunities to learn and grow. Don't stop growing my dear daughter........"

I stuck that message on my wall when I was in Trinity, the next day after you texted me that, and now it's stuck on my desk, where I can see it every day.

I love you papa, and whatever challenges that we may face we face it headstrong, together.