The end.

I'm singing to myself at 2 am.

I've been thinking about my life, wondering how many people are truly my friends. I remember during my dad's wake...I was all alone, with people telling I was going to be fine, everything's going to be alright.

People. Aunties, uncles, cousins, family friends.

I wondered where my friends were when I needed them the most. I hoped they would come see me, put an arm around me. They didn't even have to say a thing, but they weren't there at all.

Their parents were there, but they themselves were nowhere to be seen.

I sound like I'm making it all about me, but wasn't it all about me and my mom and my sister then? When someone dies, you grieve for the pain the living have to go through. There is no point grieving for the dead. They won't even know it, and even if they do, they'd just feel even sadder for the heartbreak they've caused.

Tomorrow, I'm going to pick one of my favourite cousins up from the airport where she'll be taken home to watch her father die.

I don't know which is worse, having someone you love die in a sudden, leaving you hanging with hundreds of unanswered questions and a thousand 'what if's...or being told they were going to die, leaving you to watch them slowly lose grip on life and fade away while enduring immense suffering.

Having experienced both...I have no answer.

Tomorrow, when they bring my uncle back to his home and remove life support, I promise I won't shed a tear.

Today, I found photos of my dad's funeral on the dining table. My relatives were making preparations for the one to come.

As I flipped through them, I found a 15-year-old me, awkward and gangly...stoning. Now I know where that blank face of mine came from. Feeling nothing is better than feeling pain.

And so, I will walk around with a smile plastered on my face. Nothing's wrong. Everything's alright.

Happy chinese new year.