Life has a funny way of showing us what truly matters—not in the grand, dramatic moments, but in the quiet ones. The moments we often overlook.
A smile shared over a glass of wine. A hand on your shoulder when words are too hard to find. The sound of laughter echoing louder than the doubt in your heart. These are the little things. And strangely enough, they’re...
Here I am, smiling in the A&E department — not exactly the most glamorous of settings, but sometimes life throws you a plot twist... or maybe a slippery floor. (No spoilers, but the floor won that round.)
Yes, my arm’s in a bandage.
Yes, the nurse said, “You again?” with just the right amount of concern and amusement.
And yes, I still smiled. Not because it didn’t hurt — but...
There’s something deeply powerful about a gentle heart.
It loves fiercely, listens intently, and moves through the world with empathy.
But that kind of softness? It needs protection — not to keep people out,
but to keep your light shining.
Kindness doesn't mean saying "yes" to everything.
It means knowing when to step back,
when to say “no,”
and when to guard your peace — with...
Life is very complicated.
Don’t try to find the answer.
Because when you find the answer,
Life changes the questions..."
I used to think life was about solving problems. That if I could just figure things out, everything would fall into place.
But life doesn't work that way.
After my stroke, I searched for answers—Why me? What now? How do I move forward?
And just when I thought I had the answers, life threw me a new set of...
You Must Walk Towards Them: My Journey Back to Life
There are moments in life when everything you know disappears in a blink—when the world goes silent, and you're left wondering if this is where it all ends.
For me, that moment came with a stroke.
It didn’t knock gently. It tore through my life, stealing my words, slowing my body, and stripping away the identity I had built for years.
I was a man who once spoke effortlessly, who moved through life with purpose...
A storm of thoughts tangled so tightly around my mind,
I couldn’t see.
I couldn’t speak.
I couldn’t breathe.
Everything inside me felt like scribbles—
no order, no meaning, just noise.
On the outside, people saw a face. Calm. Collected.
But inside, I was drowning in confusion, frustration, and pain.
After my stroke, that chaos became my reality.
Words slipped away from me.
Thoughts turned into puzzles I couldn’t...
For me, imagination has become a quiet superpower. When life feels uncertain or overwhelming, I don’t wait for happiness to arrive—I imagine it. I build it in my mind like a painting, stroke by stroke. I see the sunrise before it happens. I hear laughter even when the room is silent....
If someone had told me five years ago, when I was lying in a hospital bed struggling to speak, that I would go on to write not one, but five books, I might not have believed them.
But here I am — living proof that even in our darkest hours, hope can take root. That with persistence, heart, and a deep will to heal, we can rise again. And not just rise — but fly.
My fifth book,...
And yet, in today’s world, pain often finds its way online before it finds its way into healing.
A broken heart becomes a post.
A tear becomes content.
Sadness becomes a status.
But let me ask you this — when was the last time you simply let yourself feel, without telling the world?
I've had my share of tears.
Silent ones.
Frustrated ones.
Lonely ones.
After my stroke, I didn't need sympathy — I needed space.
Space...
At first glance, beginnings look beautiful.
Sweet. Innocent. Full of promise.
We romanticize them — a first book, a friendly publisher.
She looked like hope.
She smiled like support.
But not everything that glitters is gold.
Sometimes, beneath the polished surface, there’s something sharp.
The pages were real. The story was mine.
But behind the scenes, there was silence where there should have been celebration.
Control where there should...
A flower doesn’t ask for perfect conditions to bloom — it simply does, even if it means breaking through cracks in concrete or surviving storms no one sees.
I’ve come to understand that kind of resilience.
After my stroke, there were moments I felt buried under — not just by fear or confusion, but by the weight of not knowing who I was anymore. Aphasia made it harder to express myself, and some days I struggled to find my...
But after extensive persuasion (read: mild guilt-tripping), I agreed to go. Then the sun decided to set itself on “...
I never imagined I would one day become an author. Writing wasn’t part of the plan.
After my stroke, I was simply trying to survive, to recover, to find my way back.
I was a man who once spoke confidently, clearly — and suddenly, words felt like strangers.
Aphasia silenced so much of what I wanted to say.
But in that silence, something else awakened.
I began to write — not because I knew how, but because I needed to.
I wrote to remember.
I wrote to feel.
I...
When I first waddled into the ActiveSG Gym @ Serangoon Central, I wasn’t quite sure if I had entered a fitness centre or an adult-sized torture chamber. The machines looked more like spaceships, and I was still trying to figure out if I could trust my own legs—let alone squat or cycle.
But here I am, weeks later, and guess what? I’m actually enjoying it. Who knew sweating could feel this good?
At first, the one-hour sessions felt like a test of willpower and...
Perfect. Precise. Predictable.
I held on tightly to the script of my life — editing, re-editing, directing every scene.
I thought that was strength. I thought that was how to succeed.
But lately, a different truth has been whispering to me.
“The play begins when you stop trying to control the script.”
It hit me like a quiet epiphany.
As I start this new chapter — turning my stories into film — I find myself surrounded...
Then came the stroke.
Everything stopped.
I couldn’t speak the way I used to. I couldn’t move the way I remembered. Words felt like strangers. My body didn’t respond. I felt trapped inside myself — frustrated, confused, and silent.
For a while, I thought that was...
Sometimes, it begins with something as small as a cup of coffee.
The warmth in your hands.
The silence of the morning.
The moment before the world rushes in.
I remember days when even holding a cup felt like a challenge. After my stroke, I had to relearn everything — not just walking or talking, but believing. Believing that I could still rebuild a life that felt whole. That I could rise, despite how far I had fallen.
Recovery isn't linear. Some days I felt...
Don’t Grow Up – It’s a Trap (Don’t Grow Up – It’s a Trap)
This line — “Don’t grow up, it’s a trap” — came from a dark time in my life. It wasn’t meant to be cheeky or funny. It was whispered by the boy inside me — my alter ego — during the hardest moment I’ve ever faced.
During and after my stroke, I had to relearn everything. Talking. Walking. Even being me again. I was broken, scared, and often silent. But then something unexpected happened: the little...
After more than 35 years, I crossed paths with an old friend— Henri Leong.
Henri is one of Singapore’s top hairdressers and runs one of the best hair salons in the country. Trained at Vidal Sassoon Academy, he’s a true master in razor cutting, makeovers, and turning hair into high fashion. Back then, I was a creative director bringing in the best fashion pieces for magazine shoots, and Henri was the magician behind some of the most stunning hairstyles worn by models and celebrities. He was...
It’s Time to Fly
by Terence Ang
There was a time when I couldn’t even speak the words in my heart. When my body felt like a cage and my thoughts were locked inside. After my stroke, I had to learn how to walk again, talk again, live again. I wasn’t just healing—I was rebuilding.
Every step forward was a struggle. Every stumble felt like a setback. But somehow, I kept going. Not because I was fearless—but because something inside me refused to quit.
And now, after all the falls and the fights, I...
