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. ]


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 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. ]



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. ]


Life journal 15

It is the time when I first successfully played Canon in D on my violin.

It’s the time when I joined the school camp in my last year of high school.

The time when I was the first to solved a difficult math problem.

Or when I scored higher than I thought.

It’s the old memory when my father gave me the little doll which I keep until today.

When I went with him to the bookstore…

And I just innocently urged him to buy me toys like a little child.

It’s the feeling of excitement

To get on my brother’s bike and go to places.

How beautifully the flower road was made on new year’s days.

And how it felt like to breathe in the spirit of the incoming year.

It’s the silly conversations I had with my cousin,

That left us laughing for minutes after.

The feeling of being inspired

When you need to finish your story.

It’s the melody that makes your heart flutter

Or the book that makes you pleased.

Even the simplest word that one spoke

Help me able to smile through the darkest days…

[ Cover picture belongs to the rightful artist. ]


Life journal 14

I thought I my first days of new year would be filled with the same delighted feeling I felt before stepping into the next year.

But now…

Why do I feel so empty, so numb…?

Even with all the guests coming to the house, wishing for a wonderful year to come, I couldn’t bring myself to be happy or to even care about it.

Even when my father asked if I want to go with him to my relatives’ place, I couldn’t feel joy in it.

It’s scary, the feeling of nothingness, then it becomes painful when you see everyone else is enjoying their time so much, how happy they are in this first days…

Why couldn’t I feel the same…?

Why do I always feel like sleeping all day, ignoring the world around me…

I just wish that I could have fun like everyone else, not just stay here and try to distract myself from all the negative thoughts.

Why is it so hard to feel happy now…

My father wished me to be stronger in the coming year.

I doubt that I could do it…

Knowing how I am right now…

[ Cover image belongs to the rightful artist ]


Life journal 13

So why does the title say “The end of the year”?

Well, for my country, the official new year would be Lunar new year.

Lots of preparation to do, cleaning the house, buying things and whatnot, hence I have been hiatus for a few days. New year’s eve will be on January 27th, so 1 more day to go!

Last year has been…quiet hectic for me. I got in a traffic accident, couldn’t walk for like 2 months, then the depression, mental health, school problems and everything I wished that did not happen. But that’s how life it I guess, you can’t hardly know what would happen next, and that is both the beauty and the annoying thing of it.

For long I haven’t really felt excited about all the new year stuffs anymore. Maybe it’s just that I have grown older so that feeling is somehow gone. But this year, I don’t know why, but I could feel in myself, this intriguing sense about the incoming new days. Maybe I have grown even more sensitive to my surrounding without noticing it. The new year musics, the smells of traditional foods, the decorated scenery,… all of them seem oddly delightful this year. Maybe, just maybe, I would go to the flower street and see if I enjoy it this time. It has been such a very long time since I last went there. It would be nice if it could breath into me the true spirit of what new year is all about, a new door, a new beginning, and a fresh start…

[ Cover image belongs to the artist ]


Life journal 12

I guess the worst thing about depression is that… you start to lose interest in everything you do, even your hobbies…

And passions.

Then you begin to avoid social interactions, to the point that you don’t want to go out with your close ones.

You just want to hide from the world, to be invisible…

Or to disappear.

People say that you just need to cheer up, to not think about negative things, and let you mind be unoccupied.

But you just can’t simply “cheer up”.

You just can’t simply let your mind free.

Because when your mind is not occupied,

Bad thoughts will return, and haunt you for as long as you are still here.

The feeling of being lost in the middle of an ocean called “life”, not knowing if you can do anything, if you have any talent, any thing that you are good at…

Or even if you are worthy to live in this world.

Trapped in a cage, yearning for freedom.

Which never seems to be coming true…

[ Cover image belongs to the artist. ]



Life journal 11

Would you believe me if I said that I used to hate English really much?

But I did, for about 2 first years of my secondary school.


Well, because I thought I sucked at it.

Back then, every day when I had English class, I just freaked out. The nervousness, anxiety, the feeling of worrying that the teacher might call you to answer some questions that you probably didn’t know. My scores would remain at 7 or 8 out of 10, which sometimes surprised me because I didn’t really study anything about it. It was like that till I got to my third year of secondary school. I met this teacher, who kind of inspired me to learn the language. Since then, I started to like it, then to a certain point, enjoy it. My grades improved a lot, as well as my knowledge, and it began to come to me that “Hey, maybe I wasn’t too bad at it as I thought.”

When I entered high school, I did something that… I had never thought I would do : I enrolled in a class which specialized in English. Along with my old friends, I passed the entrance exam and got into the class. I also started my English writing not too long after that. I still keep my very old stories written in English, so that I can see how much I have improved and how far I have gone on this certain journey. I am glad that I decided to go for that English class in high school, because not only it had helped me so much, it was also the best class which I had ever gotten the luck to get in, the most unique class I have ever known, where I could feel like myself.

And then about last year, my close friend got me into an online game named Guild wars 2. One month after playing, a guild in the game invited us in. They used Teamspeak 3 for major events, and it was a requirement for all guild members. The thought of using it did scare me a bit, because I didn’t feel confident in my speaking skill. In addition, I was from Asia, so English was only my second language. The first time I went onto Teamspeak with them, I was extremely nervous. But thanks to their welcoming and friendly attitude, I started to speak, little by little. Being able to actually have social conversations with foreigners like that had helped me to refine both speaking and listening skills a great deal. Eventually, I felt more and more comfortable whenever I had to speak the language, and I knew it would help me a lot in the future as well.

As of now, I’m writing like this on a daily basis. I’ve never thought I could have gone this far. Even though there are still many flaws in my writing, but I believe doing this would help me to improve, and I also have my friends to help me out. I also have a chance or two every week to talk to my online friends, which not only fun and relaxing but also a good opportunity for me to learn. When I was much younger, I wouldn’t dare to think that one day, I could have friends from other countries, but here I am now, chatting with them every day. I am very happy with all the things English has brought me, and I’m glad that for one rare time, I have actually done the right thing that makes my life a bit better : learning English.

[ Cover image belongs to the rightful artist. ]