It's Been A While

Hi, hello.

It's been a while. I haven't written anything here for almost a year.

I have another blog, in which I write about my dating shenanigans. And I like writing there, it's light and breezy. I can be funny and candid. I like it.

While this? I come here to vent and to be all melancholic about life.

And now, I do feel a bit melancholy.

To be honest, life, as it is now, is good.

Work is good, dating is good, money is good.

I am content with everything I have right now.

And I found out some people deserve to be kept and some deserve to be let go. And I'm no longer angry at those who need to be out. I am no longer holding a grudge at those who decided to get out. I am okay. Not everyone meant to be in your life.

It hurts at first tho. You have this burning rage at how unfair you think it is. You have this ostentatious feeling that you should be treated different. That after everything, you should be important. But after a while, you look around, and you realised, you were also shit at times. And if this is the end, you can take it. You don't mind it anymore.

And you go on with your life. But, saying goodbye is always hard. But you never thought that it is also hard when it's not "hard", you know what I mean?

Like, you thought this would impact you in a bigger way, you'd be more upset. But no, you briefly angry, but then you shrug your shoulder. And you wonder, how emotionless or numb are you that all of those years end up being not much? But hey, you can't really force a feeling.

So it is what it is and you move on.

And this is me, moving on.


I thought 2017 would be way way better

There's a sense of great shame when you realised how little you value yourself. How low you would stoop just to feel a tiny glimmer of human connection.

Especially when you understand how wrong the situation is. How when you start crying, he just turn you around and say "stop it, you can cry after we finish." It's all game and fun for him, and you try your best to convince him that it's the same for you.

So he does all that he wants, and you let him. And you let him think you're so in it too. And you break down after he left. Or after you left. You break down. You cry, and hate yourself for how you treat yourself. For how you let him treat you.

And you feel the shame. And you can't bring yourself to talk about it, to anyone. And you start avoiding people, socially. Because there's a sense of great shame in being you.

But still, you contact him. Still he can summon you in a few lines of text. And you don't see a will to stop. Because there's a great sense of shame in everything you do now. So what's the point.


On Being Fed Up With Yourself

There are moments where I am so tired of myself, and tired of being talk about or talking to. Tired. 

There are moments where I just want to somehow disappear from everyone's conscious. There are moments where I just want to escape, from everyone. Everyone. 

Somehow, I just want to ceased to be, stop being, no longer exist. For a period of time, at least. 

People tires me. Sometimes. 

I feel I'm just this big ball of nerves that annoy everyone, which is why I say sorry for being myself all the time. Anxiety, I guess. 

I tire myself. Most of the time. 

Oh, well. 




How you've been? Good? Great. I always want you to be good, if not great. 
Me? I've been good, so far 2017 has been quite good. I still have my job, still enjoying it. 
I met someone new, nothing serious at all, but he's been good. 
I met another someone new, we're not sleeping together or anything, but we're talking. So that's refreshing. 

I bought a new bed. Nice. It's thick and fluffy. I bought a new pillow. Nice. 
I bought a set of bag and pouches, which I hope will help me sort out my life. Because nothing say "Organize af" as a matching set of bag and pouches. Right? Right. 

The one thing that drives me a bit insane is one guy (I know, it's always a guy. Maybe one day it'll be something else, like a horse, or a world economy crisis). 

I met this guy months ago. Early 2016, that shit of a year. 

We met about three times in total. That's it. Three times. Three frickin times.

Then as you know, shit happened and we got re-connected. And me being stupid, I let him lingers.

And lingers.

For no apparent reason,

Maybe I just like being emotionally tortured.

Oh well. Get back to me when you read this, I fuckin miss you. 


2017 Resolutions

Per usual, before the year ends, here's the list of resolutions for 2017:

1. Keep my job
2. Cross stitch something
3. Healthy living - eat well and exercise
4. Learn French
5. Learn Photoshop and Indesign
6. Travel (Jogja and Japan)
7. Change. Be a new person. Be good this time. 


On 2016

2016 was hard. It was probably the worst year of my life. Wait, the worst year of my life, so far.

I'm a pretty sheltered person. My life, if we don't count a few things that I managed to pushed to the back of my mind for 20 years, has been really good. My family always have a bit of money, and even when we don't, it's middle class version of not having money.

I never went hungry involuntarily, never without a roof over my head, never without means to further my education or broaden my social life. I never really suffer.

I have a pretty face, a good enough brain, a kind heart, and a body that, well, functioning well. I am privileged and lucky. Life has been good to me. So when I said 2016 was hard, it was hard because of me. Things didn't happen to me, I happened to things.

Growing up, things came easy to me. I was always in the top 3 of my class in school (well, in primary school, in junior high I was still in top 10, while high school? Blah, my high school ranking system was weird) I got accepted to one of the top universities in my country, and then went on to pursued my master degree in a first world country. I always have friends, my family, although isn't your typical lovey dovey perfect movie family, is alright.

Life has been good to me.

Life has been good to me.

But then, something just went....wrong in 2016.

But I made it bad. I did things that I shouldn't.

I was the problem, not the situation. Everything that went wrong, I was the cause. I set the movement. I struggle to handle a new discovery. There were things that bubbling up to the surface, things that I've repressed for years. And it wrecked me.

It made me go mental and started to reached out in the wrong way. I looked for love and affection and acknowledgement in men. And got rejected. again. and again. and again. Which if course, in the end, wrecked me even more.

And I wallow. In self pity.

And I acted out, like a petulant child demanding attention.

In self sabotaging moves.

Over. and over. and over.

And of course, things didn't go my way.

2016 was a bad year, but because I made it bad.

I lost a friend in 2016, but maybe it was because I failed to make him feels that he matters. Maybe it was because I didn't do the necessary thing because I was afraid he would hate me.

I caught an illness in 2016, but it was because I was reckless and stupid. Really, really stupid.

I got my heart broken in 2016, it was because I was being unrealistic and not knowing my place. and too clingy. And to naive to realized, the bed was where the connection started and ended.

I had a hard time dealing with hatred in my heart, but it was because I refused to take responsibility for my actions. And because I refused to consult a professional to help me deal with my mental health issue and past experience.

2016 was bad, but it was self inflicted.

I just realized.

2016 was my biggest, deepest, self inflicted wound.

It really was the year of the reckless.

Here's to 2017, a year of change.


Shit's Cray

It's... restless-ness. You don't feel at ease. You feel like there's something missing, always something missing.

So you fill it with something. Food, bags, clothes, alcohol, sex, men's adoration, or the thrill of a chase. You need to fill it with something.

This nagging feeling, these noises, this hunger for things you don't understand.
So you try to muffled the voices. With white noises, music, the sound of your voice, conversations.

You try to lure your brain into feeling complete by reading things, all the time. Or writing, a journal, a blog, a piece of paper, the blank space in your mind, the hundreds and thousands of whatsapp texts.

You try to divert your attention to something else. Men, projects, house cleaning.

Maybe seriously take a break this time? From everything. Just stay at home, or wander around the city alone. Stop texting people. Find a new hobby.

Maybe seriously try this time.


It Aches

Hey there.

Remember early this year? When I said I'm gonna try to have a relationship this year? Remember when I said I want a boyfriend this year? Remember that? Yeah, it's not gonna happen. Not this year, or anytime soon. This is due to something I just found out about myself.

Also, I met a guy. I really like him. I am coming to a realisation that it's not gonna go anywhere tho. Partly because of that discovery about myself.

I don't know how much of this ache is him, and how much of it is just the realisation of how life is different now. How this is gonna be another reason for people to reject me. How long is the list these days? Too tall, too fat, too weird, too clingy, to distant, too easy, too educated, too progressive, too loud, too independent, too harsh. And now this.

I just can't believe how much it aches. How many deep breaths I've taken in the last 16 hours. How many times I've cried. How many times I've told myself "We're okay, we're gonna be okay."

It aches.
It aches.


Moral High Ground

"I feel like I've lost all my moral high grounds. All those shits I used to say to people when I feel like they were judging me for being such a colossal slut."

"Then go back to your high ground. We're all allowed one mistakes."

Or more. Right? We're allowed to make mistakes. We're allowed to be stupid once in a while, especially you and me.

I know I don't say this enough to you, but thank you. and I love you.

You go and be good.



You ask me over and over again "Explain it to me!"

and again and again all I can say is "Just sadness. I feel sad a lot."

"But what kind? and why? We all feel sad at times. I don't understand what you're complaining about."

"I'm not complaining, I'm telling you how I feel. You asked, remember?"

"I'm trying to understand here, trust me. But I can't work with just 'sad'. I need more."

"I can't explain it. Not to you, not to anyone. Frankly not even to myself. If you think you're having a hard time trying to understand what I'm feeling, imagine how I feel."

Imagine how often I ask myself "What is this? What am I feeling? Why am I crying?!"
Imagine how confuse I am every time I calm myself down by saying "We're alright, we're okay. We're gonna be alright." to my self, over and over again.

The thing is, I don't need you to understand. I just need to lie my head on your chest and have you stroke my back and tell me "It's gonna be okay." You can even call me babe if you want.

I just need a cuddle or two every now and then.