Life journal 28

There is always this voice in my head, saying all the worst things even when the smallest misfortune happen…

“Oh, because everyone will leave you again.”

“You know that I am not wrong.”

“You are both annoying and boring at the same time.”

Although I don’t exactly suffer from the mental illness itself, the level of anxiety and insecurity is more than enough to feed the devil inside. Slowly, it would start consuming you and making you follow its wretched path…

It’s hard to control your own mind with it around. When something happens, something that makes you feel uneasy, you start to feel insecure, and it takes that perfect opportunity to pour toxic into your head. Its words are intoxicated, and in your most vulnerable moment, you choose to believe it. You begin to assume many things, even when you know that they are probably not the truth, but you cannot help it. And then, either all those thoughts burst out of your mind, or are forced to stay inside by your helpless effort.

No matter how much I try not to think too negatively, everything seems to be almost in vain. It always resides inside my head, keeps telling me all the words which I know are lies, but for some reasons, I could not completely ignore them. It’s like a ghost that haunts me, every time when I am not preoccupying myself. Emotion and feeling become much harder to control with its existence, because if I just loose my sanity for one second, everything would explode, and I know how much I would regret it afterward. Every day, I try to hide it in me, to shut it down, to cover them all with the best show that I could possibly put on, no matter how many times I have to lie that I am perfectly fine. It overwhelms my mind as it keeps on doing its incredible job in making every of my relationship harder to maintain…

In the end, it is always you who struggle to get out of its delusive cage…

[ Cover image belongs to the rightful artist. ]



Random 5

For so long, you have been with me,

Through tragedy, betrayal and pain.

For too long, you have stayed with me,

To cover, to protect and to lie.

“It’s okay.” You say. “Just keep me alive.”

“In return, you’ll be safe from harm.”

Such luring words, how could I turn down…

Letting it be, as what it wants to be.

Like the ice, void of emotion,

Like the thorn, bleeds all who dare touch.

Light the night, such eerie resilence.

Like the moon, her bearing solitude.

You never leave, also never fade

You get stronger, as the day passes by.

“Now I am you.” You say “No need to fear.”

“No one could hurt you, as long as I am here.”

“But why…” I start “You cannot be me.”

“You are different, relentless and strong.”

“That’s why you made me”, reply you  “to shield your own self.”

“To face the people, the world and this life.”

The look in your eyes, like bullet and knife

Hiding the sorrow that woven in mine.

Without you, I am but in fear,

To let everyone see, to let everyone know.

“So fragile”, you speak, “so dedicate”

“So sensitive, sympathetic and frail.”

“But don’t worry, I won’t let anyone find out…”

“Unless you are by your own, where no one can see…”

“Then maybe… we could both take a rest…”

“And you… can just be you…”

In silence I stay, my eyes fix on you,

The unspoken words, you have said them all…

Taking a deep breath, I extend my hand…

To reach yours, as we face life together…

But one day…

I wish I could walk without you…

[ Cover image belongs to the rightful artist. ]


Life journal 27

Ahh… So I have left, the place I used to think that would be my very first stepping stone into my future…

An admirable university that used to make my proud of myself.

Which only kills me inside…

Just when I thought that I had somewhat made at least one of my dreams came true…

I fell down, like a little raven who had lost its wings.

And now here I am, in front of a new gate,

Wide opens, welcome me inside.

I wonder…

In this sky above my eyes

Could I fly, to my desperate dreams…?

Could I be free, to live with myself…?

Or  would I fall, half way to my goal…

And lose my wings, my hopes and my soul…

Back to the place where I tried so hard to leave,

Behind the mirror where my shattered self resides…

[ Cover image belongs to the rightful artist. ]


Life journal 26

“Why are you leaving your school?”

“How come? You are studying in the university that so many people dream to be in.”

“With this score and this school, why are you leaving? Maybe you should think about it again.”

Few days ago, when I was eating my lunch, a university which I had applied for sent me a message that I was qualified for it.

That moment, I was neither happy nor sad.

I simply did not know how to feel.

Somewhere around this time, three years ago, I was filled with excitement, that I made it into the university which I had always wanted, and that I was going to proudly be a student in there, one of the best universities in my country.

All those “jumping up and down in joy”, “Oh look I scored even higher than what was needed”, “I am going to be a student of that school soon.”, “I can’t wait…” slowly turned into ashes after more than two years…

When I realized that I did not belong there, that I could not feel happy spending time in those lessons, that I simply could not talk to no one at all to my heart’s content, I slowly sank back into the void I had been in, and the little traffic accident was all it needed to wrap it up.

My old university was nowhere near a bad school, being one of the top schools in my country, and one of the top economics universities in my city. Back then when I was in high school, I always thought of a day when I could hold the confirmation paper from that university in my hands, that I had passed the entrance test, that I would become a student there. And when it did come true, I was honestly so happy…

Now I am about to leave all those things behind, starting my new university student life in a different school, which, overally, is less impressive than the one I used to be in. Then again, aside from the pride of being an student of a honorable school, strangely enough, there was not any feeling of regret or sorrow…

At least, I hope, that I have chosen the right path…

[ Cover image belongs to the rightful owner. ]


Into my weaboo side 5

First of all, no this is not really an anime review.

Well, maybe just a teeny tiny bit of it.

So yeah, a small spoiler alert!

_ _ _ _ _

About two weeks ago, I decided to go and watched Koe No Katachi with my friend. I also invited my cousin too. The plan was the three of us were going to watch it together, and I was rather excited.

But then the only thing I heard from my cousin was she was not going to go and watch it.


Because her friends told her that the movie was boring.

All I could think of in that exact moment was “What?”

_ _ _ _ _

If I must be very honest, the time my friend invited me, I was asking him what was the movie about. He said it about a guy who always bulied others and a deaf girl.

I told him “Please don’t tell me that it is another stereotype cheesy love story again, ’cause I’m so over it.”.

“Well, not really, but how about you just see it for yourself?”

And yeah, after I left the cinema, I kinda wanted to dig a big hole to just bury myself along with my stupidity.

_ _ _ _ _

For me, the movie was extraordinary. There are too many things which I adore about Koe No Katachi, but if I have to pick out some, they would be the design, animation and characters’ development.

Of course, the storyline as well.

The scenes in this film are not glamorous. I think they are quite simplistic, but very beautiful. Every color tones are well-used, which helped empathized what the director wants to tell us. The animation is subtle but critical. Since Koe No Katachi movie is based on a manga series, capturing more than 50 chapters into one 2-hour long anime is not an easy task. There will not be enough time to tell the story in its fullness, which is why the animation is made so that it can convey the most important and meaningful events fluidly in such a short time, and I think it has been done brilliantly. Although there might be details that lie in the mist, but it’s inevitable. Each character in Koe No Katachi is unique. Each of them represent a flaw or a weakness that one might have. They really draw me into the story, into “the hearts of their souls”. Their emotion is so “real-life”, which is the very reason why I adore this anime so much.

At the end of the movie, I started to think again.

That was when I realized why my cousin’s friends said that this movie was boring.

They just did not understand it.

_ _ _ _ _

For me, Koe No Katachi is a powerful message about the deepest mind and soul of one person. The movie itself is about understanding and acceptance. It’s like a self battle not just for the two main characters, Ishida and Nishimiya, but also for the rest of their friends. This is the kind of battle that anyone could have, especially the ones with mental and health problem. It’s a battle that exists in this very life, not like any extreme superhero action movies you see everywhere. So if they were expecting things like that or something like a love story they can easily chew on, then this movie is not for them.

One thing that bothered me even more was that because her friend said it was boring, my cousin actually decided to miss a change of seeing this great anime.

I am in no position to judge anyone. I know the everyone has their own taste, and it’s perfectly normal. But since words have a great impact on people, I just wished they would choose wiser words to say to my cousin. It’s fine if they find it boring, but I don’t think saying “It doesn’t fit my taste, but maybe you still should try it out, ’cause who knows?” would hurt because for God’s sake, Koe No Katachi has a very high critic score for a reason.

Then again, it just hits me that some of the young people at my place are so shallow, which is sad.

No matter how many “deep”, “emo” statuses, pictures you post on social media, they don’t really say that you really are like that. You can think that you are a deep person, but are you really, or it’s just on the surface? Heck, it doesn’t even matter. Can you really understand how other people really feel when they are seriously “too emotional” and “deeply sink in their own minds”? Can you really understand what it mean to have to fight with yourself ? More importantly when you are suffering a mental illness, or when you are disable? This is what Koe No Katachi is showing us. It’s not easy at all. It’s very hard, sometimes just staying alive could be harder than killing yourself. Then you might think people who kill themselves are idiots, but you don’t know, they do that because they cannot take it anymore. Even they know that they should not suicide, but what could they do? All they “know” is that “If I were gone, none of these would happen.” Even when that is not the truth, but they cannot get it out of their minds. In the end, you could also think that they were just overreacting, simply because you cannot understand their pain.

Not everyone is blessed with a normal life and a normal mind. Sometimes overcoming oneself has already been a great achievement for some people. I really think that more people need to learn how to sympathize, especially the young ones, because some of them could be so deadly insensitive and cold-hearted. It may sound pretty hard, but no. With patience and effort, it’s not that hard at all.

And you can always start by listening carefully to their “voices”.

[ Cover image belongs to the rightful artist. ]


Life journal 25

Just for one moment…

When you were preoccupying yourself,

When you just finished a book or a movie that motivated you to keep on going,

When you were working,

When you were not “thinking”,

You thought you were fine.

Telling yourself “you can beat your own monster”

And your nightmare would be gone.

But you would never expect,

All it took was just a little thing, so tiny…

To make you think again…


But your mind would not listen.


But your heart would not stay calm.


And you could not do anything…

To convince your mind that you were worthy,

To see what more you could achieve in the future,

To find a reason to strive,

To at least accept yourself…

That you were not your mental illness.

You knew so well all these things

But it had never been easy

To stop…

_ _ _ _ _

I can’t stop…

[ Cover image belongs to the rightful artist. ]


Life journal 24

Saying “I like my high school.” would be a lie, because I never actually like it.

For so many times, I have said “I hate it.”, and I did mean it. Well, nobody really likes exams, deadlines and such, don’t they?

However, without doubt,

My three years in high school have been the best time that I have ever gotten the change to experience in my life.

Because no matter how I look at it, I would never could find a single class that could be so unique, so talented, so artistic and so darn good at English like my high school classmates.

_ _ _ _ _

We all started as strangers, awkwardly exchanged looks to one another. It didn’t take long until we became friends and began to play mischief that we all laughed at in the end.

As for me, there was a hard time when I tried to fit in, because I was nowhere near being sociable. My most vague memory was of a friend who invited me to go to the cafeteria with her to buy food for the first time, then she commented that I was too shy and cute.

Of course, she found out that she was very wrong later on.

Since I’m an introvert, the feeling of being left out has always occupied me, no matter where I am. Nevertheless, in my high school class, I had never felt that I was a freak. Most of the people who had spoken to me in the class defined me as scary and weird, and they happily accepted that. Never once had I heard them commented about my interests, because they knew about them, and they respected them. It applied to everyone else. Each individual had a different “common sense”, however, they all shared the same thing. It was their differences that made them so unique but at the same time, so alike.

My class’ specialty was English. Everyone in the class had passed an entrance test held by the school before they were placed in here. At first, I didn’t expect much. The test was fairly easy in my opinion, so I assumed that people in this class would have about average English skills, if not less.

Well, I was wrong, and time was the proof for it.

The more time I spent with my classmates, the more they amazed me. A class where everyone was not only surprisingly good in four basic skills of English but also pretty decent with grammatical issues, not to mention their fair vocabularies. I had learnt a lot from them. Being under the same class with them had improved my English greatly. If it was not for them, I don’t think that I could be sitting here and typing all these at this moment, in English, comfortably.

In a small world that you can be yourself without worrying a thing, for me, it was a bless. No matter how many fights, argues, annoyances had occurred during my high school, no matter how serious they might seem, and even though they costed me a friend, it could still not rip away the delight that high school had brought me.

And now here I am, 3 years later, looking at old photos my friends share on facebook, the photos of our last day in high school…

All the goofs that we had made,

All the music that we had played,

All the effort for the senior school camp,

All for just only “one” moment that we spent together, under the starry night…

The moment that made us different people into one big family,

The one that I had the pleasure to be with.

Somewhere around the last days of May,

Goodbye, high school.

[ Cover image belongs to the rightful artist. ]


Life journal 23

If I really think about it, I notice that I have never actually found any satisfied answer.

Why do I write?

May it be to express my feelings ?

For relaxation ?

Or just for fun ?

I used to think that the reason was because I could escape from reality when I wrote, which was also true in some cases.

But I always feel that there is something more…

I only write when inspiration strikes me. That would be either when I’m truly contented or deep in sorrow. The special case being somewhere in the middle of those two feelings, the thin line between sane and depression, but then that’s mostly when I could write at my best. It’s not exactly a good habit to maintain, I suppose. But no matter how much I try, I still cannot do anything about it.

So I just consider it as a candle light for my never-ending nightmare.

Every time I write, it lights up and with its dimming light, casts away the darkness, little by little.

And I think that’s why I write.

To empty my darkness.

And to give it light, even if it’s the thinnest ray…

[ Cover image belongs to the rightful artist. ]




Random 4

People say “When you wish upon a star”

“All your wishes will come true.”

Every day, she prays to the last star of the night

For just one hope that she could see the clear blue sky.

This whole time, it has been so grim…

Even the mighty sun could not crack the cloud.

She misses the light, the warmth and the breeze

Of the sun, the air and the wind.

But one day, they were all gone…

Left her alone in the dark, the cold and the dust.

Time flies, but her hope still lies

Flickering like a dimming candle light.

She afraids that it would die one day.

Or even worse, it would remain as “hope” forever…

Just like the star, fading day by day…

Then that night comes as she looks up on the sky

Her only star is gone, swallowed by the void.

Staring into nothingness, her mind becomes blank

And she falls, with her hope hanging down from life…

“Hello miss, who are you?”

“Where do you from, and why are you here?”

She looks up, only to see a little boy

Wearing white clothes, and a skeleton mask

“I don’t know.” She replied. “I think I fell down…”

“From my hope, and my dreadful sky.”

“Is that so?” The boy tilled his head.

“Is that why your balloon is hanging up side down?”

“My balloon?” She questioned. “But I don’t have any.”

“Yes you do.” Then he pointed behind her.

She turns around, only to see a red thread

Floating in the air, with its end ties up into a balloon shape itself.

“Oh no! It is broken.” The boy exclaimed.

She just sits there, letting the emptiness fill her soul.

“But it’s okay. I can give you mine.”

“So you could get back up to your sky again.”

The boy holds out a red balloon, then gives it to her

She mindlessly looks up, facing the little boy.

He is smilling at her, even through the skeleton mask

And his balloon is filled with warmth light as the sun.

“But don’t you need it?” She asked.

“I’ve already made it through.” He replied.

“I knew that I could, so I tried my best.”

“And now I am fine, healthy and all.”

“No longer need to stay in the place in white anymore.”

She stares at the boy, and then the balloon

Slowly, she extends her hand…

Taking the balloon, she holds it close to her heart…

_ _ _ _ _

Lift yourself up, or hang your hope down

Life is not fair, but give it a chance.

Even when it only offers the tiniest things

Treasure them, as if they are the very last…

Inspired by an artwork from Nano Mortis.

[ Cover imagine belongs to the rightful artist. ]


Random 3

Where am I…

My eyes blinked slowly as I tried to open them.

Above me, there was the sky. It was coated in melancholy gray. No cloud could be seen, not even the faintest sight.

So cold…

I realized that I was lying on the hard ground. I shifted my body, only to figure out that it was so weak, as if there was no energy left. I struggled to sit up, then scanned around the place.

Few meters in front of me was a big fountain. There were many trees around, and there was even a large iron gate just behind the fountain. However…

The fountain was partly broken. Water fell down beneath it.

All the trees had withered. Leaves had fallen down all over the place.

The gate was covered with wilted vines and green mosses.

It seemed to be nothing but an abandoned garden.

I startled.

How could I even get here in the first place?

I tried to stand up with all my might. My legs felt so feeble, as if I had been running for hours nonstop.

Using the tree behind me as a support, I finally managed to stand on my feet. It took a while before I could actually walk, and the very first thing I did was to check the gate. But no matter what I did, it still shut tight. I sighed helplessly and looked behind me. There was a path leading deep into the garden.

I suppose I have no other choice.

Reluctantly, I turned around and made my way through the bushes along the way. For each step I took, the sound of leaves getting trampled echoed steadily in the air. Other than that, there was not any other sound. This place resided completely in silence, eerie silence.

After walking for a while, I saw a small curtain made of vines. The moment I used my hand to sweep it aside, I gasped in surprise. It was as if I had entered a room in this dreadful garden, and this room had several glass pieces hanging around. Those glasses shone faintly, glimmering with waving light. It was hard to believe that there could be such things in such a place. I moved to have a closer look at them. If I looked carefully enough, I could see moving images within these seemingly transparent crystals.

But these images….

Weren’t these…

My memories?

But not just any kind of memories.

All these glasses contained my happiest memories.

Even the ones that I thought I had long forgotten.

Gazing at them, I started to think of all my good memories. Yet, before I even knew it, a tear had already left my eyes.


Aren’t I supposed to be delighted seeing all these…?

Then why… Why don’t I feel happy at all?

Why do I feel so…


Just then, a strong gust came from the direction of the vine curtain blew violently into the room, making almost all the glasses fall and shatter on the ground. As I watched in astonishment, I saw an enormous shadow creeping behind me. Slowly, I turned my head back, only to see a mash of thick black matter, with vicious red eyes and baring sharp teeth. Instinctively, I took a step back. The “monster” in front of me inched forward, revealing its long honed claws. Fear rushed inside me, as I immediately turned around and ran toward the opened door behind the room. However, no matter how hard I tried, my legs were still too weak, and the creature was too fast. My breath became heavier and heavier, alarming me that my body couldn’t take it much longer. It was not long until I finally stumbled and fell. As I struggled to get up, the creature had overshadowed me. When I looked up, its claw had already raised in the air, attempting to strike down. I tried to crawled away, but it was no use. My body was paralyzed with exhaustion and terror. I closed my eyes, turning my head away, waiting for the worst to come.

5 seconds…

10 seconds…

15 seconds…

But I didn’t feel anything.

I peeked my eyes, and immediately jumped when realizing how close those claws were to me. However…

Something else was standing between me and them.

No, some one else.

“Calm down. Don’t overexert yourself.”

It’s a female voice, and it sounds so familiar…

She turned to look at me.

“You are thinking too much.”

I startled.

The creature gradually retreated its claws. That was when I noticed those claws had penetrated through this girl’s chest, leaving a deep wound behind. Blood dripping on the floor like a small stream, and this person standing in front of my eyes did not show a sign of pain at all.

“Are you alright? Why did you save me?”

I jolted up. She turned around to face me, but did not say a word. Her eyes were covered with bandages, as well as multiple places on her body. On her right ankle, there was even a long chain which I could not see its end. Even though I couldn’t see her eyes, I still felt that she was looking at me. The creature had disappeared without a trace.

“Why don’t you answer me?”

I asked again, but this time, she just walked toward me.

And then she passed right through me.

Did she just…

I turned around instantly just to see where she was heading to, but I could not see her at all.

It couldn’t be a ghost right… Or even worse, my imagination…

Right then, I noticed something was left on the ground. It was blood, and most likely her blood. I followed the trail without any hesitation. There was this unknown impulse inside me, that I had to find her. Maybe she knew where this was, and how to get out of here…

The blood trail stopped in front of an old mirror. As I walked closer, my reflection in it became clearer and clearer. Not until I was only a meter away that I finally realized, it wasn’t my reflection. It was that girl, and she was standing there, inside that mirror. What frightened me the most was, if I observed closely enough, she looked just like me. It was like seeing myself, wounded and in agony. I froze…

Taking a deep breath to gather some strength, I finally managed to speak.

“Who are you?”

The girl tilted her head.

“Who do you think I am? Who do I look like?” She said with a soft voice.

“B-But…” I stuttered. “You can’t be me…”

“How would you know?” She replied offhandedly.

“I am not covered in wounds!” I almost yelled at her. “And I’m not bleeding my heart out like you are right now!”

“Then, why are you crying?”

I was stunned when hearing that.

Instinctively, I moved my hand to my cheek. It was wet.

“Why do you cry?” She asked.


Why do I cry? Why can’t stop crying…?

“It’s not the first time you just cry without knowing why, am I right?”


Why is it always me ?

Cursed with these blasted tears…

“Why did you save me?” I tried to wipe the tears in my eyes.

“I am you right? That thing hit me, so you were not saved.”

“Nonsense! I’m not hurt at all. I’m…” Feeling her eyes were gazing deeply at me, I found myself unable to finish the sentence. Even with all the bandages, she still possessed the look of someone who could see through people’s hearts.

“What is wrong with your eyes?” I asked heartlessly.

“They are in pain because they have seen too much, even things that weren’t meant to be seen…” She paused for few seconds, then finished her line. “So “I” decided to “cover” them.”

“You still can see things. I can feel it.” I retorted.

She sighed. “Occupational hazard of being observant, right?”

It was like an arrow pierced right through my heart.

“You are bleeding. Don’t you feel at least hurt?”

“If you’re used to it, I suppose you can’t really feel that much anymore sometimes, can you?”

Every single word she said feel like needle stabbing my soul. It pained me so much, but I could not shake it away…

“That-That monster…” My throat became hoarse. “W-What was it?”

“…You know what you really see as a “monster”, right?”


Battling a monster called “life”,

Not knowing if I could get by….

She silently watched me as I lowered my head, lost in thought.

“You should be going.” I heard she sighed. “I’m leaving.”

“Wait!” I shouted out when I saw her walking away, fading inside the mirror. “Where is this place? How do I even get out?”

She stopped for a moment, and turned her head to face me.

“It is the most truthful “you””. Then she disappeared.

“No! Wait! You haven’t told me how to get out! Please, come back!”


_ _ _ _ _


I jolted up from my bed, breathing heavily. Sweat dropped down from my forehead as I wiped it away. Looking around, I saw my room, and I was sitting on my bed. The clock besides me ticking 5 am. It was almost morning.

I guessed that was just a bad dream…

Nevertheless, I should start preparing to go to school and repeat the whole boring meaningless routine again…

Sigh… I wish people weren’t so stereotype.

After making sure that everything I needed was in my bag, I took the comb and fix my hair again, then swung the bag over my shoulder, heading to the door.

Don’t throw “life” away.

I abruptly stopped walking. Turning my head to the left, I saw that “me” in the mirror. I jumped unconsciously and looked around, but saw no one inside my room. I looked back at the mirror again. This time, I only saw my reflection. I stared at my reflection for a moment, then slowly looked down, sighing heavily.

“Life” is also suffering too…

Clenching my fists, I stepped out of my bed room, waiting for life to take me away…

[ Cover image belongs to the rightful artist. ]


Random 2

Every morning, she wakes up at noon.

Turning on her laptop, putting on some music.

Then starts the daily routine of “distracting herself”

May that be spending hours playing game,

Practicing violin, writing stories,

Reading books or manga,

Watching movies and animes…

Anything that keeps her away from thinking.

From acknowledging the world around her.

It pains her, every time she’s aware of all those meaningless things that she’s doing…

For their purpose is just to keep her sane…

So that she can “live” on…

At least, until that cursed day comes…

[ Cover image belongs to the rightful artist. ]




Life journal 22

I wish…

That I was born an extrovert.

That I would be like everyone else,

Be out-going, be talkative, be confident.

That I would like the same things everyone does,

So that I don’t have to feel lonely in a crowd.

That I would like to speak, and would speak better

That anxiety and depression would be gone.

And I wish I wouldn’t feel shy anymore

Wouldn’t be too sensitive toward everything.

Wouldn’t have so many peculiar interests…

Or at least compare to the most of the people.

So that I won’t have to hear things like…

“Why don’t you talk to anyone?”

“She only likes the weirdest thing.”

I just wish to be the same as everyone else…

Then I won’t have to worry about too many things anymore.


If they all came true…

I would lose my ability to write like this…

Actually, I think I wouldn’t even be able to think like this.

The way I interact with the world…

I would have to give it up too.

The sympathy of a listener that lies inside me,

The beautiful art gallery that I’m so proud of

Or the melodies that not everyone knows…

And this mind that never stop imagining

These worlds, these stories that I built myself…

All the pages I have written…

Would be all gone…

I would lose this very “me” that is different…

And so…

This never-ending battle was created…

“What should I be…”

[Cover image belongs to the rightful artist. ]


Life journal 21

Softly touch the wooden floor

Trying to remember the old feelings

They start to move, slowly and clumsily

With the melody singing in the heart.

As they trip, stumble, then fall

Their skins go red and comes the nostalgic pain

Along with the memories of those good old days

When they could dance joyfully on these strings

For hours without feeling bone-tiring.

Happiness, sadness and pain

Overwhelm by the second they move

How they wish to be back again

To dance, to play, and create beautiful sound

Before that one moment destroyed everything.

Here they’re now, trying and striving to thrive

To get back, and to get better.

So that one day, they could bloom once more

And be at ease, in their own world, with music and love…

_ _ _ _ _

“I wish that I could play again

To the melody that sings in my heart…”

[ Cover image belongs to the rightful artist. ]


Life journal 20

It was a Sunday morning if my memory isn’t wrong…

“Have you waken up yet?”

“I have…” *Yawn*

“Good good. When will you come and pick me up?”

“Uh…in 30 minutes.”

“Okay. I will be waiting.”


And then about 45 minutes later, I saw somebody outside of the door as my phone started ringing again.

“Mom, I’ll be off. My friend is here.”

_ _ _ _ _

Today, she decided to do some “remodeling” to my wadrobe since I haven’t got the chance to buy new clothes for a whole year due to many incidents…

“Oh look at this dress! You should try it on! Oh and this shirt too. It’s soooooo cute! Look!”

I took the dresses and the shirts she pointed out and went to the dressing room.

“See? That looks so nice on you! It fits your body perfectly.” She said while looking at me and my reflection in the mirror.

“You’re right. It does look nice.” I commented as checking myself in a simple yet rather formal red dress.

“Haha, I’m so good.”

Then we both laughed cheerfully with much joy.

After the hectic clothes shopping, she took me to the lipstick shop that she had heard so many good things about. The staff greeted us nicely as we stepped inside.

“What do you think of this color?” She turned to me after applying a light red-orange color lipstick.

“Hm… I think it’s good.” I nodded. “I kind of want to buy the same one too, but I guess it doesn’t suit me that well.” I look at myself in the mirror and sighed.

“Well…” She scanned her eyes through all the display color. “How about…” She grinned widely. “This one?”

She gave me the “Sexy lady” named lipstick with a dark red-brown color. My eyes twitched as I looked at her.

“Haha, very nice.”

“What? It might suit you, you know? You have that sexy adult edge anyway.”

“I have what now?”

“Just put it on!” She shoved the lipstick in my hand.

“You are really…” I groaned, but tried it out anyway.

“See? That looks better on you than me.”

Much to my dismay, she didn’t wrong.

“But this won’t very good if I didn’t put actual make-up on you know? And I hardly do that.” I commented.

“Yeah, such a shame…” She sighed. “Oh oh but, how about this one?”

This time, she gave me the purple shaded one.

“I bet you will like this one.” She giggled.

“Did you just ask me to kill you?” I smirked with much annoyance.

( She just knows I hate purple color so much that she could literally make jokes out of that.)

“Come on…!” She nagged.

“Urg, hell no. No-way.”

But then in the end, she helped me to choose two lipsticks with colors that looked very nice on me. And so we went home, feeling satisfied of what we had brought that day.

Later that night.

I did my usual routine of checking facebook to see if there was anything interesting, and I saw my notification popping up. I clicked it.

You have been tagged in a post.

“The type of close friend that doesn’t always have to see each other but is still forever best friend.”

We have been friend for about 8 years.

She sees me as her sister, and I see her the same way around.

We know all the little things about each other, what the other hates and how to use them to tease one another.

And it has stayed that way, for 8 years, no matter all the ups and downs.

It has never been perfect, but that…

That is our unbreakable friendship.

[ Cover image belongs to the rightful artist. ]


Life journal 19

It is just…a wonderful thing that I have in my crappy life.

I listen to quite a lot of different types of music, from the softest melody to the “crazy” dark songs that I cannot resist sometimes. It’s my encouragement, my means of comfort, and maybe also something that still keeps me…sane ( Well, most of the time ). It affects me in so many ways, helps me to find inspiration and give me motivation to keep my things ( and maybe life ) going.

In a lot of my good memories, music play an important role, or even be the reason why they even exist. It was all the time I successfully played any song on my Violin, or even better, perform in front of many people. Now that was fun. It was in high school and I was a 11th grader. My school decided to hold a music contest for everyone to celebrate the National teacher day. My class practiced very hard for it, and I had my first chance to play in front of everyone else. That was very scary to say the least, and I was so nervous. But it was also the feeling that I could never forget, as I stood on that stage and played my violin. It was an overwhelming feeling, something that I do not know how to describe by words. And I never forgot that day, because I have never ever felt so happy and so contented. It was simply marvelous. Then there was that day when I first went to a life orchestra. I was amazed to say the least. Seeing the musicians creating such wonderful and mesmerizing music just left me in awe. I can’t never forget that feeling, sitting in the conservatorium and being taken into the magnificent world of music.

How I miss all those times so much. My high school was where I had so much fun with my violin and my fellow friends. Every time I look back, I just wish to be there again at those moments when the world and the life around you do not matter. It was just you and the music with the violin you loved so much. Now that my heart has gotten so empty, I can barely play, and my mind is just always occupied with depression. It’s such a shame, to see how much a single mental problem has done to me, to the point that made me drop my most favourite thing to do in this life…

But maybe one day, and soon I hope, I can pick my violin up again, and play it like how I used to, with feelings, emotions, passion…

And love.

[ Cover image belongs to the rightful artist. ]



Random 1

 I gaze at the silent sky at night

Counting starts and making wishes

That I could shine as bright as them

No matter how dark it is outside…

That I could stand strong in a hazardous storm

And have determination to make it through.

That I could just find my time of peace

In this crazy, crazy life.

But if one day, I couldn’t stay anymore

Can I join you up on the distant place…?

[ Cover image belongs to the rightful artist. ]



Untitled 3

There are so many feelings that I cannot describe.

Or even know why they are there.

Sometimes I mentally ask myself…

“For what reason did you cry?”

But I’m never sure why.

Either that there is none.

Because I feel empty inside.

Or there’re just too many.

When every broken piece of feelings gather around.

Slowly it becomes a loop which I want to escape.

To be free from this emotion roller-coaster.

But I never can…

[ Cover image belongs to the rightful artist. ]


Life journal 18

I do wish that I could find a place like that in real life.

Asides from this little home that I adore so much, or my “mind palace” where I could be whoever or whatever I want, there is another place where I go to to escape the dreadful life and relax.

Well, to be honest, it’s just an online game.

The name is Guildwars 2.

It’s been more than a year since I started playing it. Back then it was just me and my friend, roaming around the world ( called Tyria ), till we met a wonderful guild in which my real journey in the game begin.

There is this thing about online communication is that… It’s easier to communicate with people, because when we cannot see each other, we won’t judge before actually talking to anyone. And it’s easier for me because I don’t have to stand in front of strangers and try not to embarrass myself in front of others. I can just sit in my room, comfortably typing out my replies without feeling shy or anything.

Then it comes to a point when I could actually spoke with them in English. I was terrified in my first time. I have never ever spoken in English to anyone outside of my class, not to mention they are all foreigners. I remember a hundred of questions popping inside my heads, and most of them are about “Am I making any sense to them?”, “Can they understand me?”, “Did I misspell anything?”, “Why do my pronunciation sound so crappy?”, “Stop panicking!”. It was such a funny memory, but thanks to that, I am now feeling much more comfortable and confident of my speaking skill. Moreover, I have met many lovely people and made friends with them. They have helped me a lot in many way, and sometimes I come to them for some advice about things, because most of them are quite older than me, so they have more life experience than I do.

If I think about it, I might be a bit silly to treat a game with so much…feelings like that. But then again, the little happiness it brought me has helped me sail through many dark times, and I’m sure it will stay like that…

At least for now. 🙂

[ Cover image is a screenshot taken in the game. ]


Life journal 17

There was once when she was filled with flair,

For the teachers who taught her told so

“You can go further than you ever know

Because you’ve already had it inside your heart.”

She was delighted, elated, and grateful

For all the things that they have gave her.

Time passed by, and she grew older

Struggling with people’s voices inside her head.

The used-to-be inspiration got collapsed

Leaving all the broken dreams behind.

All the words seem to be meaningless

Since it is not something that you just “get over with”.

But people keep telling her what to do

As they think that they just know best.

“Stop being weak, and stand up”

Thinking they know how she really feels like…

It is as if the world has become so empty

Like a place which has nothing but black void…

[ Cover image belongs to the rightful artist ]


Life journal 16

I have only heard of the term “Highly sensitive person” ( HSP ) not too long ago. Before that, I have always thought I have some kind of a mental problem in controlling my emotions.

I couldn’t remember since when I had become so sensitive toward…almost everything. I’m not talking about “tearing up in during a sentimental movie”, I’m talking about how a slightest sound or a faintest scent can open a door to my memory, create something new in my little “imaginary town”, or even better, turn my feeling up side down. I get anxious under pressure, get uncomfortable quickly in an unfamiliar crowd. Even a single song could make my eyes wet although I was perfectly fine one second ago. It happens so much that sometimes I actually tried to hold it back, but then I failed miserably all the time.

It has never been easy to live with your true feeling, and it’s even harder when you tend to feel more than everyone else. You see the world not just with your eyes, but with all the other senses. It’s almost like you expose yourself to the world a lot more and eventually, the world touches you in a myriad ways. It does truly feel nice sometimes, especially when you are alone, because that is the only moment when you can be who you are without worrying about anything.

But then for most of the time, it is rather overwhelming. For me, I have to always try to conceal it, because I don’t want to embarrass myself in front of others. There is a public image that everyone tries to keep. Since you’re so sensitive by nature, if someone critics you, you tend to take it personally. I guess the worst comments which I have heard so far were “Why are you so sensitive?” and “Stop being weak.” Some people see being sensitive is just the same as being weak, and it saddens me. I have always been told to open up a bit, but if I just look at what I have gotten by doing so, it’s feel as if they just want me to contain my thoughts and feelings even more. I learnt it the hard way, hence I don’t want to ever do it again, because it’s sort of meaningless if people are not on the same page with you.

Sensitivity is not a weakness, and I hope people will come to understand that. To HSP, it is their strengths, since it helps them to see the world in the way that other people cannot. They are the best listeners that you can ever find, because they sympathize with your feeling easily. If you ever have a chance to enter their minds, you would see how fascinating their worlds are, because as I said, they do not “see” only through their eyes. It’s hard to control your emotions sometimes, even for people who are not highly sensitive. Trust me, HSP always try their best to keep them at bay, but they just feel so much to the point that it becomes challenging to do so.

Therefore, the next time if you happen to come across a highly sensitive person, don’t think that they’re just being frail with their emotions, because they “bear” more than you could ever imagine.

[ Cover image belongs to the rightful artist. ]