Writer’s Block

You know what’s depressing?

It’s never the woe of not being able to get into universities, nor has it ever been the remaining $50 that sits quietly in the bank. It’s never the indescribable loneliness that often overwhelms on a crowded street, nor has it been the aftermath of being let down. It’s never the fear of rejection, nor has it been the separation anxiety. To me, and writers mostly, what’s depressing is losing our voices.

The thing about us, writers, is that every time we write we divulge a part of ourselves and show it to the rest of the world. And this is scary because this platform is almost comparatively similar to that of public speaking, just that we communicate with written words and you absorb the information through the voices in your head. It’s an astounding feat to gather up the courage and take a leap of faith every time we decide to show, not tell, a part of our life.

The thing is, we want to be heard. And unfortunately, we don’t always reach out to everyone. More often than not, the intended recipient – this one particular person – is isolated far from reach and any attempt to establish a connection is futile.

I have forgotten how many drafts I have erased over the last few days trying to write, many of which ended just as quickly  as it started. I remember silently cussing each time I reluctantly punch the ‘delete’ button. I remember being frantic about the idea of having coherence, for the subject matter is either hard to pinpoint or is wholly absent. It seemed to me then I lost the sacred ability to write – the ability to string random words together forming complete sentences, and sentences into complete paragraphs, and paragraphs into a complete passage.

And I was darn right. I did lose my voice. Amid all the ruckus about trying to make the right decision, trying to fit in, trying to avoid confessing to the person I liked, trying to live up to expectations as a human – a child, a writer, a friend and a man , I lost touch with the language of words. I lost touch with my ability to connect the dots, I lost touch with being grounded, I lost touch with what I want to say. One of the most important things writing taught me is the brilliant satisfaction about a complete piece of article. The satisfaction of carefully nitpicking the right words or phrases through the vocabulary bank, the satisfaction of going through drafts after drafts of brainstorming and proofreading, the satisfaction of coming up with an original blueprint and crafting the masterpiece from the beginning to the end.

In the most unfortunate and inopportune time, I lost my voice, I lost it all.



Hey there,

After utmost considerations, I have decided to give my WordPress a complete makeover. A new URL, a new header, a new title, and most importantly, a new theme. You might ask:

Why the sudden change?

I have to agree that this is sudden after all this is a decision I made on the way home after a long, mentally-exhaustive week in camp.  But this is a decision I have been deliberating for quite awhile, and I think you all deserve to know why.  But before I carry on, it is impertinent to first comprehend the creation of the previous blog, “The Awkward Moment”.


I started “The Awkward Moment” or “DeepMarvel” back in 2013 when I was still a college student in MJC. Unlike the many other blogs (666 Pages.Blogspot, The Love Coffin, InvisiblePerspectives etc), “The Awkward Moment” was one of my better and more refine pieces of ‘crap‘.

When it began, it was all about movie reviews, drama reviews and finding the next big thing. I was always trying to find things to write every week. Trying to churn pieces after pieces of reviews that people might like. I guess it was the motivation to see the numbers on my statistics page grow that spurred me forward. The “big break”, although a short-lived one, came after I wrote the “3 Peas in a Pod” movie review, which garnered almost a thousand views -a pretty big feat for the insignificant me then (And now).


Without hesitation, I credited this success to my love for writing. I figured it was this passion that gave me the inspiration that garnered the views and visits on my WordPress. I was happy.

Or so I thought.

Unfortunately, I was pretty much deluded. I hadn’t even realised that I had been lead into a trap – The trap of wanting to fit in. It took me a while to comprehend this profound revelation, and I am glad that I did eventually.

You see, all those efforts then most definitely do not represent a single iota of my passion. Frankly speaking, I was not even certain that writing was a passion of mine back in 2013. I was merely making use of this grand notion, “THE PASSION FOR WRITING”. In other words, I was looking for something to write for the sake of gaining popularity, for the sake of trying to be the next big online sensation.

With that, I panicked. I figured I needed a break to readjust my thinking. So I did. I blogged lesser and abstained from WordPress for a while.

I returned to “The Awkward Moment” months later, and this time, I figured it should function as a diary. Pieces such as, “Conscription“, “Ebullience“, “Denizen” came into picture. And I was back on track.

People, friends mostly and a couple of other bloggers (LoudThoughtVoicedOut,ImagennBlogIllicitChrysalism and more) from the WordPress community, actually praised me for the pieces I wrote over the months and years. Looking back, I saw myself grow. The style I adopted in 2013 was different in 2014, and the one in 2014 was obsolete in 2015. You can almost see a cycle of beginnings and endings. But most importantly, you can see a change in perspective and maturity in what I presented. (Compare: “Incunabula (2015)” with “Effort, Time and Affinity and what not (2016)”  )


Eventually, I began writing more frequently and fervently, not because people complimented my progress or what not, but rather I realised there is this subtle satisfaction of being able to pen down the feelings inside me – word for word – on a platform that allows other to relate to. Before I know it, I discovered that the more I write, the more I enjoy writing.

In a sense, “The Awkward Moment” was reborn.


Which brings me back to the main question, why change?

As you might or might not know, things haven’t been going on smoothly for myself in the past few months, especially in the past weeks. I was, in a way, entangled and had absolute trouble getting out of this mess. I felt horrible and I knew a part of me had died somewhere inside. I needed time to recover that forgotten carcass.

In a way, I am sick of feeling pathetic and down. In a way, I want to be normal again. So, I figure I need to start anew, I need a new chapter, a whole new beginning. So I came up with the idea of a new theme for the blog,”Lerology“(the first half of my name “Ler Jun” + second half of “Biology“). Essentially through this, I want to be able to better express my thoughts as well as my feelings in a manner that is intimate, holistic and grounded.

So, goodbye to my old link: DeepMarvel.wordpress.com and welcome to LEROLOGY.

This is a fresh start. And I am excited. 

I hope you are too.

And many thanks to all those who have been supporting me.



Demetrius Sng Ler Jun




I must admit that things haven’t been going smoothly. I thought they were going on fine, I was wrong. They went plummeted downhill and I went down with it, headfirst.

Today, I lost my wifi password.
I lost an online document while attempting to save it when the wifi got cut-off.
The shampoo wouldn’t come out of the hole.
It took me 15 minutes longer to get out of the toilet as a result.
I couldn’t close the window in time and rainwater splattered all over my phone and my paper documents.

That’s not all.

Last night, my insomnia relapsed.
I lost the courage to respond to a reconciliation request.
I got hypocritical about that reconciliation request.
I am starting to have a phobia of Birthdays.
I hate celebrations.

I’ve noticed that words don’t string out as neatly as they used to.
I have been very angsty lately.
I turned a deaf ear to many.
It took me longer to response.
I took my first puff after 12 months sometime this year.

Lately, I began talking to myself more frequently.

Arthur, the perfectionist, took over at work.
Terry, the dude who don’t give a fuck, rejected calls.
Jayce, the selfish miser, refused to spend on lunch.
Luna, the gourmet, hates Jayce for not splurging on lunch.
Melody, the unappreciative bitch, appeared in the middle of a performance I was attending.
Wei Ming, the worrywart, panicked at university applications.
Diana, the city kid, fell sick.
Dave, the pessimist, condemned the rest.
And Demetrius?

That’s a hard one. He hasn’t entirely been active. My bet would be that he probably still haven’t gotten the balls to be truthful.

I hope I have reached the bottom of the pit. But I doubt so, or rather Dave doubts so.

God bless.


A Story in Five Sentences



We first met on an island away from the mainland.

You were facing the sea, looking far ahead, eyes squinting against the sun as if searching for something, and I was facing you, marvelling at your determination while curiously trying to locate the thing that hides amid the great blue ocean.

We were apart then, just as we are now.

Like the first encounter, you still have your back facing me and are still looking far beyond the horizon, fervently trying to locate the missing puzzle that will fill that void in your life.

Sadly, you never once look behind.


Photo Credits: Google Image & Allpix Club

Imaginary Battles

There it is again, our little imaginary battle.

This time, I’m the hydra and you are the hero. This time, I strike with my fangs, my tongue lashing, while you retaliate with the sharp end of your sword, your war cry reverberating. I’m always the  menacing creature, the thing with the putrid breath, grimy onyx scales, and green eyes that contain snake-liked pupils. I’m always the foul evil creature that is destined to be slain and vanquish. While the glorious you in your dazzling grey armour and your rusty prized-sword, is destined to strike me down not once, not twice but forever.

And as we collide, your sword against my fangs, your glare against my gaze, your growl against my hiss, we severely maim. At the end, I lay there motionless as I gradually bleed to death while you too lay there motionless, severely intoxicated. It wasn’t long till Death claims us both. It wasn’t long till you receive all the glory while I was condemned even further.

But it’s not the end. For we always get reincarnated.

Haven’t you realised it’s always the same? It’s always the same poaching game, the same catch or be caught storyline, the same survivor of the fittest battle.

Before that
I was the cat and
you were the rat.

And before that,
I was stag and
you were the pack.

It never stops. Our little battles never stop.

Aren’t you tired? Because I am exhausted from all these ceaseless and irrational battles. What is the point? There is nothing to prove. Nothing to attain. Nothing at all. We are merely fighting based on instincts, are we not?  I wish for it to end forever.

I wish for it to end forever. I wish for the pain to stop. I wish that I no longer need to sink my teeth into your meat, I wish you need not attempt to tear me apart when you see me, I wish that there is  peace.

But I guess I should be grateful. For without you, without the pain, or the misery, I would be nothing. I would be someone without wisdom. After all, “We enjoy warmth because we have been cold. We appreciate light because we have been in darkness.

You…you have taught me much.


Hey, you. I hope you are listening. Because this is something really personal. So personal that I probably wouldn’t even tell you. Maybe I will but I might not. I really don’t know about this. We shall see. I should probably just hold it up for now. I mean I have yet introduced myself and that’s rude, right? So pardon me for not introducing myself. And pardon me again for not even going to introduce myself. I actually never intended to in the first place. There is no need to let you know who I am. You being here, well not physically, is already helpful enough. Thank you for “helping” and not helping. I am fine, I think. Lately, someone said that I have been too serious and that I need to laugh more. So here goes, “ha ha ha.” Am I less serious now? Do you know I like the rain? I like how it’s chilly in the rain. I wonder is that how people who died feel all the time? They say the dead cannot feel anything, we don’t know that do we? I really like the rain. What about you? Hey, I hope you are listening. Don’t dose off. It’s rude. Oh, let me tell you a secret, well not a secret – I hate spicy food. They burn my tongue. I don’t eat them. Time seems to stop everything I try to savour anything spicy. Papa and Mama said that I’m hopeless. I guess they are right. I tried but I just cannot take them. Don’t you think time flies? I mean not literally but time does fly. It’s already 3 months into 2016. I felt like I have yet move. One week into March, and I am excited and at the same time, I felt like shit. Do you know what shit feels like? Me neither. Today was a bad day. For no particular reason, today was a bad day. And for no particular reason, I’ve got a feeling March is going to be a bad month. What to do? What to do? Oi, stop dosing off. You are rude.  One last thing, I think all humans are crazy. We are crazy about food, money, love yadda-yadda-yadda … It never stops. The list never stops. To summarise: He is crazy. She is crazy. You are crazy.

I am crazy.
And today was a shitty bad day.

So _|_ (I just learnt this. What marvellous invention.)


Photo Credits: ?