Take the Good, Choke Out the Bad

Happy 2025, People!

I’ve been off the radar for the most part of the week—despite boldly declaring I’d write more. Don’t worry; I haven’t stopped writing. In fact, I’ve written more than I expected. Here’s a little sneak peek: I’ve been spending a lot of time on a fanfiction about Arcane. I absolutely adore that show. Season 1? Watched it more times than I can count. Season 2? Still building up my track record.

I love the fast-paced storytelling, even if it sometimes skips over scenes I need to see on screen. That’s the thing with Arcane—it gets you, but it doesn’t always give you everything you crave. Still, it’s the only show I’ve ever watched without skipping a second. That speaks volumes. Like what you like, hate what you hate, right?

But anyway, I’m not here to fanboy (entirely). This post is just an update—a little reflection on how far I’ve come, what I’ve been up to, and where I’m headed. And, most importantly, a dive into the personal stuff. That’s what matters most, after all.

I’ve made peace with a harsh reality: I can’t spend as much time as I’d like composing music. It’s not just time—it’s money. Creating the kind of music I love, epic orchestral pieces, isn’t cheap. I’m not your casual pop producer working with a couple of tracks and roadside ambiance. That’s cool, but it’s not me. My music is big, bold, and orchestral—sometimes with a touch of EDM. The orchestra, though? Always the soul of it.

The cost? Around RM250 a month. That kind of pressure hits your wallet—and your heart. Every piece feels like it has to earn its worth. You think, This has to be my best work yet, or, I need to churn out more music this month to make it worth the spend. It’s a constant mental tug-of-war.

Then life as a medical student comes in and punches me in the gut, yelling, You don’t have time for this. You don’t deserve this. And that’s where the identity crisis begins. I resent how this path drains my time, energy, and passion. It makes me question whether I ever belonged here in the first place. Maybe they’re right—maybe only the truly passionate survive in medicine.

But then again… what’s life without a bit of pain?

Now, in my final year, I’m near the finish line. I’ve left the crossroads behind. I’m on the path I chose, and there’s no turning back. All I can do now is move forward—and make the journey worth it by facing the hard truths.

I can’t rewind time to when I first started med school, lost and confused about who I was. I can’t tell my younger self it’s pointless to second-guess everything. Life’s unfair. Balance is a myth. The only choice we have is what we make of the chaos.

Take the good. Chuck out the bad.

So, with music feeling out of reach, I’m shifting gears. Writing. The random Instagram links. The fanfiction. This is my creative lifeline right now—a way to feed my need to make something. It’s not my true passion, but it’s close enough. Writing helps me grow: as a creator, as a storyteller, and as someone learning to arrange thoughts into meaningful works.

Storytelling is the backbone of any art form—even music. Classical music taught me that sound alone can evoke emotion, paint pictures, and tell stories without a single word. Writing is just another medium, and through it, I want to create works that mean something—to me, and maybe someday, to others too.

Now let’s flip to the less motivational side of things. Sitting here with a cup of coffee on New Year’s Eve, I can’t help but reflect on everything that’s happened this year. There are moments I wish had gone differently. Sometimes, I miss the younger, naive version of myself. But as I’ve grown, I’ve hit a point of horrifying liberation—the kind that comes from understanding your responsibilities, your impact, and your limits.

Maybe this is what people mean by a fully developed frontal lobe. If so, it’s dope—but also a lot.

In the past three months, I’ve gone through a whirlwind of change. And while I wish for more (like everyone else), I’m content with what I have. At 25—my “dream age” where I’d imagined being my best self—I realize I’m only mentally at my peak. Everything else? On fire.

Physically, I’ve peaked too—in circumference. We’re talking nearly 90kg with a 100cm abdominal circumference. Who needs six packs when you can have one giant one, right?

But enough about that. This year, I’m aiming for growth. I’ll take the good, pat the bad on the back, and say, Thanks for stressing me out.

Let’s make 2025 our year. Here’s to creativity, resilience, and maybe… just maybe... a six-pack (or at least one less circle). Happy holidays, everyone!