Public gyms in Taipei are beautiful. Aesthetically, they’re knock-out champions – most unlike the dull multi-mirrored vain-pods you so often find in Singapore. Wallpapered and themed, these Taipei gyms are made to look like an urban-looking backstreet alleyway, and others designed to look like a modern spaceship, the gym’s sleek machinery complimenting it’s cool grey interiors.

This story is hard to begin, probably because this has only happened to me one other time in my life. I was 17 and having sushi alone in a seedy cube of a ‘restaurant’ wedged between a hairdresser and a neighbourhood gynaecologist.

Back then, I had only been just introduced to her for a brief 10 minutes before texting her half my life’s tragedy and the horrors that were my relationship. I don’t know what kind of reply I expected, but it wasn’t an “Okay, that’s cool. You’re cool.”

Nat’s been my best friend for (nearly) the past decade.

I do not have photos of me before the age of 19. Thanks, hard drives.

Having flitted from external hard drive to hard drive throughout my teenage years – (Cloud wasn’t a big thing back then) all of which ended in broken whirring messes, leaving me penniless and laden with stress-induced migraines – I finally conceded that these supposed storage ‘life-savers’ and I were never meant to be.