Liew Life

The sunlight slips through the tall glass windows just after seven. It’s warm, soft, and quietly persuasive – the kind of light that makes the world look a little gentler than usual. I sit with my oat latte, feeling the first calm breath of the morning. For once, the city hasn’t started rushing yet. And maybe, for once, neither have I.   I don’t usually sit directly under the sun, but today the light feels like an invitation – not to move faster, but to slow down. To sit, to feel, to be. In this small moment, I wish time could stretch just a little longer.   Then a thought appears, as sudden as the sunlight shifting on my table:   Time is the only thing that never changes, yet we keep asking it to.   When life is heavy, we want the days to disappear. When happiness arrives, we want the minutes to stay. We hope time will adjust to our feelings, our seasons, our pace. But time refuses to wait – for joy, for pain, for clarity, for us.   Still, we blame it. We say t...

A Self Reflection About Stepping Out, Breathing In, and Finding Myself Again Sitting outdoors has never really been my thing. I’ve always carried a strange comfort in being surrounded by walls – the kind of stillness that feels safe, the kind of quiet that doesn’t ask for anything from me. My home has always been my shelter, my familiar cocoon where the world stays outside and I get to stay untouched by it for a while.   But today, something shifter. Something gentle, subtle, almost like a soft pull inside my chest. And before I knew it, I found myself stepping out of my door, out of my routine, out of the tiny box I’ve built around my everyday life. I ended up at a café with an open courtyard, where the view stretched wider than what I’m used to. Bricks warmed by the sun, leaves hanging lazily from tall trees, clouds drifting like slow dancers in the sky.    The sun was lowering itself gently as if it was tired too, and the wind brushed past me – cool, patient, almost te...

Just wanna laugh. I opened my laptop with full intention to write my blog – and then it hit me.  I broke the streak.   The streak I’ve been proudly keeping all year: one post, every month, without fail. And now, it’s gone. Quietly. Slipped away without warning.    Honestly, I don’t even know how to feel about it. Part of me is… okay with it? Maybe even a little proud.  Because it means I’ve been so caught up in life, in  doing  things, in being productive – that I didn’t even realize the time passed. But another part of me, the part that made this commitment on New Year’s Day, feels a bit disappointed. Like I let a small version of me down. The kind of disappointed that no one else might understand – but I do.    It might seem like a small thing to others.  But to me, it mattered.    Well, let the past be past. What matters is this moment – this month.  And this month… I turned 27.   No big surprises, no loud celebrat...

Here I am again. Still trying to keep my blogging streak alive – though let’s be honest, it’s more of a “monthly” streak than anything else. Today, I’m sitting in a café with a full glass wall, watching the rain hit the pavement. The reflection shimmer on the wet ground, swirled by a bit of wind. It’s peaceful in a strange way.    Life’s been so busy lately that I barely have time for myself. But even in the chaos, I feel like I’m moving forward. Like I’ve entered a new chapter. I’m focusing more on the things I actually enjoy, meeting people who inspire me, and starting most mornings with a smile – even if I end the day exhausted, at least I end it a little wiser.   Most days, I wake up at 4:30 a.m. If I’m even five minutes late, traffic turns into a nightmare. Days blur into weeks, weeks into months. And every morning, as I see so many cars on the road, it hits me – I’m not alone. We’re all fighters in our own way. Fighters of life. Sometimes I catch myself comparing my...

Here I am again–seated in my favourite spot, oatmilk vanilla latte in hand, the soft hum of the coffee shop wrapping me like a familiar song. My laptop glows in front of me, but for once, it’s not work that brings me here. It’s that quiet pull to write… to just  be .   This morning, I woke up to the news: the world has a new Pope. Even though I’m not Catholic, I felt something move inside me–like joy blooming in a place I didn’t expect. Isn’t it strange, how a single announcement halfway across the world can stir something so personal in your chest? Like the world decided to change overnight–while I was fast asleep, drifting through nothing in particular.    It made me wonder: how many things in this world are shifting while we’re unaware? While we’re just brushing our teeth, cooking breakfast, stuck in traffic, or just trying another ordinary Tuesday?   And maybe, right now, I’m shifting too.    In just a few weeks, I’ll be walking into a new chapter....

Life is kind of funny.  I remember seeing something that once felt strange—a man, sitting in the middle of a bar, laptop open. The music was loud, the crowd louder. He sat at a table with a few others, drink in hand, earphones in, eyes locked on his screen. It was like he was in a different world, writing something only he understood, even with friends around him.    I stared, not out of judgement, but curiosity.  How could someone focus in all that noise?   Years passed, and now… I am that man.    Not in a bar, but in a restaurant I’ve only visited a few times. It’s tucked inside a mall, yet it doesn’t feel like the usual kind of place where people pull out laptops. The room is big, warm with energy, filled with the scent of freshly made pasta—creamy, buttery, and slightly garlicky, the kind that instantly makes your stomach flutter. Music plays overhead, familiar songs I know by heart, though in softer, jazzier renditions. Cover versions, maybe. The ...