Replying to a letter from my old self

Apparently, back in 2012, I wrote a rather cute but slightly cringeworthy letter to myself. It was literally directed to the 'future me' and securely kept in a ziplock bag for years with an instruction to be 'sealed until 2020'. We don't have much time left before 2020 is over, and I owe my 18-year-old self a reply, which has clearly been long overdue, so here we go.

The letter goes:

Dear future me,

How are you doing? I hope the world treats you nicely, vice versa. You never forget to behave well, don't you? By the way, this is me, your past; the old you, writing on a rainy afternoon in 2012. It's January 18, to be exact. Do you remember? You were wearing [a] maroon cardigan and black jeans, [lying] on your bed while writing this letter. Remember?

Well, there are so many questions I'd like to ask you. You are the only one who could answer these; the questions that keep bugging you for a really long time.

What are you now? Who are you now? Did you find your way, at last? Are you enjoying your life now? Have you [traveled] around the world? Have you seen what you want to see? Have you done what you want to do? Have you found the reason for living? Have you lived your life well?

Are you happy?

See, I could ask you tons more questions but I don't want it to be too long. As long as you live happily, I'd probably have no reasons to worry.

Remember. You are more than you think.

Anyway, tell me how you've been doing. I really wanna know what happened that brings you here now. I believe it'd be a really interesting story to be told.

Don't forget you always have God with you.

Also, tell me how's your family doing. Your sister, your parents, and perhaps, your love?

Ah, this is so exciting. I can't wait to hear the story.

Believe me, when you read this later in the future, you'd be in a place that you never imagined before. A whole new world, said Aladdin. I don't know, maybe you're up there in the mountain, or down there in the ocean, or maybe you're a nomad who travels all over the world. Who knows?

Well, you do.

*Edited for clarity. Please keep in mind that back then, I wasn't as fluent in English as I am today.

Two words: how naive.

This letter was written during my early year in college, long before I realized that I had been living in a bubble of safety—before I decided to stop dreaming altogether. Back then I was hopeful, though you could already trace the symptoms of depression and anxiety. I wasn't so insecure. At that point in life, I still had a milestone to look forward to. I had a future to shape, and everything was still a possibility.

And I didn't have the heart to tell her that I screwed up.

But I still have to write a reply, so here you go:

Dear old, innocent me

To be honest with you, life has been a rollercoaster, not just any rollercoaster, but the one with lots of spirals and insane drops. Growing up wasn't easy, but I'm trying so hard to be a responsible, functional adult like you once imagined. Yes, I remember the cardigan and the jeans, and unfortunately, I no longer have them.

It's the last day of 2020, and you won't believe me when I say that the world is being swept by a viral outbreak that turns into a global pandemic. As a result, you've been working from home for the past nine months. By the way, this wasn't your first time having to stay at home for a prolonged period, but this one sucks more because you really have nowhere to go.

But I'm here to answer your questions, so let's not talk about that.

What am I now? I would say that I'm an entity bound with social norms and expectations, trying to make sense of the world around me. Well, if you're curious about what I do for a living, I am now working as a content writer. This might not be what you've always dreamed of, but in a way, your dream did partially come true, and I'm thankful enough for what I have.

Who am I now? I'm sorry to say, but I am not any different than who you are, or rather who I once was. Deep in my core, I am still the old, lost soul who seeks answers to impossible questions, the same old me who wonders what life has in store and questions my purpose on earth. I'm still someone's sister, daughter, and friend. Not much of an impact, but a nice, tertiary addition to someone else's life.

Did I find my way, you said? I guess I did. You know, later in life, you would realize that there's no definite route to take. I know that you still feel that there must be a certain way you need to go through, a certain destiny you need to fulfill, but you need to stop thinking that life is a highway—a linear, predetermined journey—and instead, start thinking of life as a tree. You have branches and leaves on numerous ends, and as you grow up with time and defy gravity, your roots will also bore deeper through the ground. Feel free to interpret it as you wish.

Am I enjoying my life now? I'm trying. You need to appreciate small things in life to do so, and I still need to learn to do this one but don't be too hard on yourself.

Have I traveled around the world? Not as much as I wanted, but I managed to set foot on two different continents and explored five different countries so far. Not a bad start, right? I renewed my passport and planned to travel this year, but the plan has to wait until the bloody pandemic is completely over. I've added some countries like Georgia and Romania to your bucket list, by the way.

Have I seen what I want to see? Some of them, yes. I haven't had the chance to go and see the aurora, so let's try not to die before we do, okay?

Have I done what I want to do? You have to understand that I've buried many of my dreams deep in the center of this planet, but I've also had the chance to do some things your young, innocent self could never imagine. Things won't always go your way, and the universe will not always treat you well, but you need to understand that it's how life works, and you don't have to be bitter about it. I still want to go bungee jumping, though.

Have I found the reason to be alive? This has always been one of the most profound questions you've ever asked, and I don't have any answers to that (yet). The way I like to think about it, though, is that if you can't find a reason to be alive within yourself, try to look for it within others. If you can't do it for yourself, do it for others.

Have you lived your life well? I must say, yes. It's not the best life, but it's the only life I have. Might as well enjoy it, right?

Are you happy? I can't say for sure, but I can still laugh at the most stupid jokes and smile when I find joy in small things around me. Happiness is an abstract concept, so I guess it all depends on how you would describe it. Oh, and I've come to realize that it doesn't have to be an accumulative feeling of all the small and big things you do that bring you joy and warmth. Happiness is everywhere out there, and it almost always comes in a package with sadness, anger, fear, and more.

Your family is doing well. Your sister is in college now. Can you believe it?

Anyway, I want to thank you for enduring everything that has happened in the past eight years, and I really hope you'd still be around when I write you another letter in the future. See, I'm curious about how our future self would be like, too. It's been fun, so let's keep this going for the next decades to come too.

See you in several years.

Maybe we shouldn't take life too seriously

I've been thinking about life. Hell, when do I not? It's a bit different this time, though. Normally, I would be thinking about why we exist, what purpose we serve on this planet, where we're going after this. This time, I've been thinking about how we're putting too many thoughts on life.

See, the thing is, I feel like we're taking life too seriously sometimes. It's crazy because I would usually be the first to question the meaning of life and all the oddities it comes with, but now the table has somewhat turned and my perspective on life has changed quite radically.

Why do we have to think so much about life? It's just life. Why are we being so ambitious about it? If you think about it, life is nothing but a natural process. A phenomenon. It's about coming to existence, rapidly growing, slowly decaying, and leaving prints on this planet. Well, the problem arises from the last one: the need to imprint. The urge to be noticed, to be remembered long after we're gone.

Oh, humans and their egos.

It's not helping that technology has now become the brewing spot for envy. The grass is always greener at someone else's Instagram feed. There will always be someone with a cooler resume on LinkedIn. We're not only competing with each other, but also with the universe.

To quote Sadhguru in one of his speeches: 

"Being in competition with the universe is a stupid thing to do."

I couldn't agree more. You know why? At the end of the day, all the ambitions, all the promises of having a good life have stopped us from actually living the life itself. Our eyes are too fixed on the finish line that we completely forget to be in the present, to enjoy life as it should be.

What are we really after? Is it money? Is it pride? Is it the sense of achievement you got when you know you do something right? Well, I don't have the answer to this question myself. Even today, I feel like I've been pretending my whole life. And it's tiring, you know, to pretend all the time.

Why do I feel that way? Well, I feel like nobody really knows what they're doing either. I feel like everyone is just pretending as if they knew everything about themselves and how they should navigate through life. It's a bonker, yet another reason to be skeptical about everything we see.

At the end of the day, we are all glorifying the notion of being alive. Our lives were built around the ideas of what makes one truly alive, generalizing happiness and making ridiculous standards. Why are we living like this? Is being alive all about fulfilling the requirements of liveliness set by society? Where's the fun in that, seriously?

Maybe the glorification of life is too deeply embedded in our system. Maybe we hold on dearly to the idea of living life to the fullest because, frankly speaking, we don't know what to do otherwise. The concept of death and everything around it is rather unfamiliar, so instead, we are obsessed with the only thing we're capable of doing: living.

Again, the problem lies not on the idea of living itself, but rather on the idea of how we should live our life. As if life comes with a manual. As if everything which doesn't meet its standards is not worth living. As if there's only one way to live, and it is to live a picture-perfect life where you put everything on edge and risk everything to get the true sense of living. As if peace is boring. As if war is the only source of thrill we have.

Or maybe, I'm just a little coward who's not ready to take risks.

Maybe I am the one who's taking my life too seriously.

In the wake of uncertainty, learn to swim

For the past couple of months, I've been doing some research on the impact of uncertainty caused by the pandemic towards our mental health. I was supposed to help writing some articles about how to deal with uncertainty, but I may or may not have been dropped from the said project and now I realized that I might be the one needing these articles more than anyone right now. I decided to share the things I've learned throughout my research instead of leaving my drafts untouched, unexplored, and so this post might be the beginning of a new series.

Nobody enjoys feeling uncertain, to begin with. We're all walking on earth looking for answers, and when we do find them, admit it, we'd prefer them to be a straight 'yes' or 'no' instead of a 'maybe'. I hate it when people including myself answer with a 'maybe' because that basically means homework. It means that we have more questions to answer, puzzles to figure out; that we are miles away from getting closure; that we need to go through the uncomfortable stage of fear and worry all over again.

Not to mention, it is often hard for us to escape the gray area, not knowing whether the route we're taking leads us to the right place, not even knowing whether we could get out of this tangled mess of all the best and worst possibilities without hurting ourselves. Right now, I'm in a position where it is hard to turn left nor right, where both the land and the sky refuse to bat an eye. I am currently trying to find my way out, and even so, I'm not quite sure whether I am truly making my way out or just walking in circles, getting right back to where I started.

One thing for sure is that everybody wants something to hold on to in the wake of uncertainty. It's like when you first learn how to swim and you keep wanting to hold the handrails, not trusting yourself enough to let go, too afraid of drowning when in fact, the harder your grip, the harder it is to stay afloat. So, just like swimming, the first thing we need to learn to do is to loosen our grip and eventually let go.

Loosening our grip means acknowledging the fact that life is never a certain thing. Changes happen every now and then, sometimes without our consent, because the world keeps moving even when we decide to stay still. Imagine being in a public pool with people swimming around you, kids kicking their feet messily as they learn how to navigate themselves on the water—and there you are with your body submerged up to your chin, swaying back and forth, left and right, following the current, even though you're doing absolutely nothing. Rather than staying still, it is better to just move along and swim.

Sure, uncertainty can be scary. What's scarier than not knowing what to expect, not knowing where to go, not knowing what to do? In fact, the pandemic has created so much uncertainty that a lot of people fall into the bottomless pit of stress and anxiety. Turn on the news and you will see major businesses failing, unemployment rate rising, the number of cases increasing, panic and worry slowly disappearing as people descend into the state of apathy fueled by desperation. Our planet right now is a scary place to live in, but hasn't it always been one?

Whenever it gets too scary and our mind too blurry, we need to be there to remind ourselves that uncertainty is always temporary. Yes, it might take a week, a year, an immensely long period that feels like an eternity for the uncertain to complete its life cycle and turns into a decision, an answer, a new opportunity. If we can just relax and keep our body afloat, kicking our feet a little, swaying our arms for a bit, eventually we'll get to the other side. Maybe with a gentle knock in the head since our eyes cannot see well underwater, or maybe too fixed on something above if we're swimming backstroke in an outdoor pool, and then we'll realize that we're actually getting somewhere all this time.

When you think about it, the moment of uncertainty spares us some time to read the situation, to map out all the possibilities that may happen, to mentally prepare ourselves before taking our next step. It is the calm before the storm, the moment in any kind of game where you wait for your opponent to make their move. I mean, the storm is not always a bad thing if you know how to handle it the proper way. Above everything else, uncertainty is a moment to reflect, really a blessing in disguise. It's not every day that life gives you a chance to pause for a while.

So, I guess we can say that uncertainty is a luxury not everybody can have. But how do you stay afloat when the current seems too strong to handle? We may have little to no power over what's happening around us. Our hands are too small for the whole world to fit in, so the only thing to hang on to that is within our reach in this pool of uncertainty is ourselves. Instead of looking elsewhere for a surface to grip, it would be easier to just swim.

In my case, for example, my workplace is putting me on a partial furlough, which means that I am only required to work several days a month instead of the usual Monday to Friday. That also means I'm getting paid significantly less than normal, plus the inevitable possibility of losing my job anytime. Yes, it was pretty upsetting and I had all the right to be bitter about it, but I decided to skip the initial four stages of grief and went straight to acceptance. I've been through this before so this time, I welcomed the uncertainty with open arms.

I have to admit that it is pretty difficult to transition from my daily routine of an eight-hour shift to what I refer to as an 'extended weekend' that lasts for weeks, but as I loosen my grip and start swimming, I learn to build my sense of certainty amidst the unknown. Despite having no work, I still wake up at the same hour, take a morning shower like I always do, wear my perfume the way I always do. See, I can't control the world, I can't control the current, but I can take control of what is on my power.

I can always swim.

Note: If the uncertainty of the current situation is letting you down right now, head to this page to read some tips that I personally find useful and find more information on how to deal with uncertainty. 

a prompt a day keeps insanity away — day 3

'A prompt a day keeps insanity away' is a series of (excerpts from) short stories, written by me, inspired by one incredibly thoughtful act of a stranger during this uncertain time. I may not interpret the prompt the way it was meant to be, so get ready for a huge mess and enjoy reading.

prompt three: no one in this world compares to you. you're the one.

She woke up to the sound of pots and pans clanging, followed by complete silence coming from the kitchen, clearly intentional. 'Oh, he's awake', she thought. Her lover, John, wanted to surprise her with breakfast in bed and probably more; his mind ecstatic with the thought of a lazy morning, a simple form of luxury for someone who juggled three jobs to make ends meet in this capitalist society.

She finally dragged herself out of the bed, slowly making her way to the kitchen where the man was busy flipping pancakes. John was very good at making pancakes; always so fluffy, always so perfectly done. 'It was all about the eggs,' he told her the first morning she woke up in his bed. Countless mornings later, though, she still couldn't get it right.

There in the kitchen stood the said man in his 6'2 glory. She hated his tacky 'I❤NY' tee with all her might, but luckily John had this gift of pulling off even the ugliest piece of clothing. His golden locks were tied messily at the top of his head, which was probably one of her most favorite things about him. She had always had a soft spot for man buns, anyway—but nobody pulled a man bun better than Spencer.

Spencer should've been her past, but he was also her first everything, which might explain why she still seemed to be deeply infatuated with his memories years after they separated. Just like John, he was blessed with beauty and an even more beautiful state of mind. So, it wasn't that much of a surprise that he just naturally became the benchmark for all her relationships coming next.

John came to the picture not long after Spencer happened. It took her a good two years before she could replace Spencer's imagery with his existence. She had to convince herself, repeatedly, that John was not some kind of a placebo to fill Spencer's absence during those long, long days without emotional gravity. 

'Let me guess. Blueberry?' She didn't miss the way John slightly jumped in surprise, lips shut tight trying to hold back his giggle. Yes, John giggled like a school girl when he's amused and she swore to God she would never let him live it down.

'Close enough.' He carefully placed those jiggly, puffy pancakes on separate plates, throwing the empty pan to the sink. Yes, he wanted to do this in their very own California king bed, but they both knew the breakfast would've worked just fine without the 'bed' part, anyway. 'It's raspberry. With some lemon 'cause I'm feeling adventurous.'

'Ooh...' she raised what was supposed to be her left eyebrow playfully. She totally regretted shaving her eyebrows to get that clean-cut Instagram look. She took salvation in John's reassurance that she looked fine either way, with or without them. 'Is that supposed to be suggestive or am I putting too much on it?'

'Both.' John managed to steal a kiss or two on her temple, his hands too busy adding some freshly-cut berries and some powdered sugar on top for the final touch. 'This was supposed to be a surprise, you know?' 

Spencer was better with surprises, sort of. He once randomly knocked on her door at 4 in the morning, drove her out of town to an empty beach on a breezy summer day with a picnic set ready on the back seat. It was nobody's birthday. He just felt like she could use a good break after a particularly long, torturous day during her internship.

Spencer was probably too good with surprises, though. He left her with a huge surprise the day he decided to break their picture-perfect college romance. She was young and naive, getting mad at the world once she realized that all this time, she was looking at him through a filter. Of all surprises Spencer ever gave her, she hated the last one the most.

'So... should I go back and pretend this—' she paused as she took a bite from her plate, '—never happened?'

'Nope, you stay here—' he stole a huge bite from her plate, which only got him a playful smack on his sculpted arm in return, and took another bite from his own plate, '—and we're gonna save the 'bed' part for later, how about that?'

Yup. John was indeed the better one.


—end

a prompt a day keeps insanity away — day 2

'A prompt a day keeps insanity away' is a series of (excerpts from) short stories, written by me, inspired by one incredibly thoughtful act of a stranger during this uncertain time. I may not interpret the prompt the way it was meant to be, so get ready for a huge mess and enjoy reading.

prompt two: you can't find happiness. you create it.

I was never ready to meet you.

It was a sunny day when you came into my life. You were a little too late to catch the first bus leaving downtown, a little too early for the next bus going back to your humble little place on the third floor of that Chinese restaurant. I was sitting on the other side of that rusty bench, already fed up with the world because I, too, was supposed to get on that first bus to take my Comparative Politics final—and now I had to wait another year to retake it. Great.

'You major in politics?' was my introduction to your warm, outgoing personality. 'Um, it's okay if you don't wanna talk. I just... I can't really stand silence, you know? And we have, like, uh, ten minutes to kill, so—'

It was a sunny day when you left too. I couldn't remember exactly what you were saying because I was too distracted by the way you gulped so hard every now and then, your voice shaky, trying to arrange your words in the least painful way possible, fighting back those tears from falling. After all, you had always been six feet of tenderness. You were my six feet of tenderness.

I should've been angry. We were supposed to have dinner at Mindy's place, and I wasn't planning to knock at her door with smudged mascara. But I couldn't. If anything, it was my fault and I had no right to be angry. You had all the right to desert me.

I was still not ready to meet you. Not when you looked barely a day older from the last time we met. Not when you still smelled like cedarwood and lemon.

'Seems like you're doing great now.'

I had my name plastered all over the room, yes. I had copies of my book piled on the table, front cover ready to be tainted with my signature, yes. I heard people love Joseph, the main character of the book that was literally a carbon copy of my memories of you, yes. To say that I was doing great, though, was an overgeneralization.

You hated big words too, like, 'overgeneralization'.

'I guess?' I didn't know that I was craving for all the small details of you until I caught myself staring at that tiny little scar on your lower lip. You told people it was from a fight because it sounded cooler that way, but I knew it was from a stupid incident that involved you, a metal ruler, and a boring day in sixth grade. That was how much I knew you. That was how much of you that was seeping into my system.

'Are you happy though?'

Ah, yes. The day we broke up, you told me something about finding happiness. You told me that you shouldn't be the only reason for me to be happy. That was easy to say, knowing that apparently, I was not the only reason for you to be happy. I went to the quietest of all places, lost myself in the loudest of all crowds, and yet I still couldn't find this happiness you were talking about.

'Yeah.'  I lied to you once and it cost me us. I lied to you again and it cost me my own misery.

'Cool.' You brushed your hair back, your hand staying on your head for a little longer than it should, your brows furrowed as if you were having an inner battle to say or not to say whatever you had in mind. 'You know, I don't think Joseph understand what happiness really is.'

'Oh, so now you're playing critic?'

'Nah, this is from a fan's perspective.' You smiled, this time it reached your eyes. 'He's kinda lost. He wants to find happiness, but he looks too far and misses too much.'

'Yeah, that's kind of the point.'

I wished I didn't notice the ring gently wrapping your finger. Of course, you would choose a simple one. You never really liked anything too flashy. You were so self-conscious that one time you wore a printed floral shirt with an accent of tiny birch branches on the back. I wouldn't be surprised if your wedding band looked barely like a wedding band and more like a friendship ring or something.

'Tell Joseph to create his own happiness,' you paused, eyes locking with mine, gaze unreadable, somehow nostalgic, 'unless he wants to write a tragic love story.'

I took a copy from my left, signed the front cover a little bit more carefully than I did the rest. I wasn't just handing you the book. I was handing you my whole life. Maybe it's the best that you were present, so I could give it to you firsthand instead of waiting for you to pick up my love letter from the dusty shelf of an unknown bookstore.

'I will.'


—end

a prompt a day keeps insanity away — day 1

'A prompt a day keeps insanity away' is a series of (excerpts from) short stories, written by me, inspired by one incredibly thoughtful act of a stranger during this uncertain time. I may not interpret the prompt the way it was meant to be, so get ready for a huge mess and enjoy reading.

prompt one: keep your eyes on the skies, and your feet on the ground

'Is there anything wrong?' You casually sipped on your coffee, her eyes set on the warm cup of chai tea, which sounded incredibly stupid to you since chai already translated to tea and she was basically calling her drinks a tea, tea. You knew this wasn't going to end well, so you instinctively reached your back pocket to see if you brought enough cash to pay for her drinks as well.

'Huh? Oh, it's nothing'

It's always nothing, followed by several minutes of uncomfortable silence, her going to the restroom—never coming back—and you paying the bill. Out of a dozen first dates you had been on, two offered to split the bill out of courtesy but you still paid in the end, one actually asked for separate checks, one insisted to pay but you paid for dinner and sent her flowers later on so you guys were even.

None of them were down for a second date, though. Oh, and apparently the girl you sent flowers to was allergic to pollen.

'Hey, uh... I need to go to the bathroom.' She hurriedly stood up from her seat, taking her cellphone on one hand and a tiny black purse on the other. You could never understand why women loved using such an impractical thing that barely served its own purpose, but you knew you had no right to judge when you, yourself, wore hats with hoodies for a morning jog.

'Yeah. Sure.' Your eyes watched her figure walking to the back of the diner, not to be seen again, ever. You had finished your coffee and wondered whether you should finish the stupid chai tea she left behind. Your mind was so occupied with chai you didn't realize someone else was already standing by your table, on her hand a slice of strawberry shortcake plated so meticulously it looked way more expensive than it really was.

'Is she coming back?'

She gently placed the cake on the table, her gaze a mix between judging and sympathizing but not in any way offending you. It was almost like she understood you and your crumbling love saga.

'I don't think so.' You looked up, sighing. Her eyes were blue, like a clear sky with no cloud, warm summer breeze, her scent an ocean. You knew her, sort of. On Sunday mornings when the diner was only a bit busy and your date left you behind, you had seen her serving warm pancakes and hot coffee. She always had her hair tied up, some of her curls graced the sides of her face.

'Tell you what,' she frowned, 'maybe you've been looking up to the skies for too long.'

The last thing you wanted to hear from a stranger, sort of, when your date had just ghosted you was a lecture—like that one time you called your mom and she went, 'maybe you should ask Lana's daughter out instead of going on dates with some gold diggers from Tinder.' But her eyes were so incredibly deep you just let your tongue slipped.

'...and what was that supposed to mean?'

She took a seat in front of you, sliding the poor cup of chai to the side, both hands on the table ready for an argument. Oh, that was new. 'My dad used to tell me to keep my eyes on the skies, and so I did. I kept looking up, looking for things that I couldn't reach.' She paused and quickly glanced at the cake, head tilted to its direction. 'It's on us, by the way.'

'Okay, so I went through a lot of downs and downs there was barely an up. I came to my dad crying and he told me that maybe he should've been clearer with his advice.'

You were so engrossed with her words you barely noticed yourself picking up the tiny fork, mindlessly nibbling on the sweet, sweet strawberry flavor. 'And then, what happened?'

'He said that there's more to it. He said that we should keep our eyes on the skies, but keep our feet on the ground. I failed to do the latter. I had no ground, no gravity to hold me back. I was just... floating. I had nowhere to go but up, but once I was up, I had nowhere to land.' You noticed the old lady, the owner of this place, throwing meaningful, slightly menacing glances at your table. Wouldn't it be rude to ask a young lady to go back to work when she was pouring her heart out like this?

'So, what I'm saying is, maybe... maybe you should find a ground to walk on first, instead of a sky to gaze upon. Once you got your feet on the ground, you'll realize that the sky will always be around, wherever you are.' It took you a good minute to process her words, another good minute trying to come up with something to reply her with, another good minute of staring at those deep, deep blue ocean that was her eyes.

'You're right.' Maybe a ground was what you needed all along.


—end

here's what I've learned after living for 25+1 years

It's kind of crazy to think that I have been walking on this planet, breathing its (polluted) air for the past 25 (plus one) years. It doesn't feel that long, really. I feel like my life hasn't even started, yet statistically speaking I am now one among hundreds of thousands of millennials actively shaping (and desperately trying to change) our current history. It still baffles me how there are people born after the year 2000 who are now hitting their teenage years. It's crazy how things change, and it's even crazier how some things remain the same. So, today, I'm going to reflect on everything that I've experienced for a quarter of a decade in a true agile fashion: a retrospective.

What went wrong

Oh, boy. Where do I even start? Let's begin with my least favorite subject: relationships. Be it a romantic or a platonic one, I think my biggest mistake is to shut people out before they even have the chance to knock on my door. Even if they manage to do so, most of the time I would refuse to open the door. The problem lies in my inability to trust myself to open up to people, which then leads to another problem that is my inability to relate and keep in touch with these people. It's not that I cannot trust people. It is that I have a hard time trusting myself; always contemplating whether showing my true color is the right choice. I think I'm afraid of the implications, but that's exactly why I can't really live my life to the fullest.

Now that I think of it, I think the root of all my problems is this: I'm afraid to take a risk. When I have someone I adore, I'm afraid of telling them how I really feel. I don't want things to change. I don't want to be rejected. I don't want to bring chaos to an existing order. I don't want this person to change the way they think of me. I don't want this person to think that I have mistaken their sincerity for something more than an act of sincerity. I want to be genuine, but at the same time, I feel like I have to act in a certain way to keep myself safe. I feel insecure when I have my feelings all exposed. That's why I choose to lay low and even leave everything untold. I silence my feelings because I'm afraid of what could possibly happen if I let them out.

That's the exact same reason why I can't seem to move on. I stay in my bubbles of illusion and safety. At the same time, I let myself get hurt, knowing too well that I can hurt people more than they can hurt me. I've hurt people probably more than I can even remember, and I'm not risking people's happiness over my selfish state of mind. I know that I can never give back to these people, and that's exactly the reason why I tend to show them the way out before they even know how to get in. I might die single. Everyone dies alone, anyway.

Moving on to an even worse subject: career. I spent a whole year being a burden to my family. I was unable to make my own money, and I had seen the disappointment in people's eyes too many times that I didn't even have to look at them right in the eyes to know that they were boring holes at my useless ass. I was a failure. Still am. I was the textbook definition of what could go wrong with a former bright student, daughter, sister, and friend.

Again, the reason why I fell so hard was my inability to take a risk. I was too scared to face changes in life, the consequences of a choice that could've brought me somewhere completely different from where I am today. I could've been a journalist. I was given the chance twice, but I stepped back before I even started. I could've worked in the hospitality industry, become a trainee at a reputable international hotel chain if it wasn't for the fact that I chose my identity as a person over their mouthwatering offer of success and luxury. I could've done something sooner, though. I could've completed my degree sooner. Perhaps, the world would've been able to offer something even greater.

Then, I finally found a place where I could stand up on my own and secure my place in this unforgiving society, but this place was taken away too soon from the palm of my hand. It was bittersweet, but for some reason, I knew everything was meant to happen the way they happened. Still, I couldn't help but feel that I should've chased something bigger, something higher, something nobler even. Perhaps, that way I didn't have to see the look in people's eyes when I told them that I had no idea what to do with my life. Perhaps, I didn't have to hear all they had to say about how I crushed their expectations to the ground.

I used to promise myself that by the time I turned 25, I would've found myself in a completely different part of the world. That, of course, turned out to be another bullcrap I spat out of innocent expectation of how welcoming the world can potentially be. I was naive. Still am. That might be another reason why I keep walking in a circle while people simply move forward in life. I saw people finally finding their walk of life, actively chasing their purpose, knowing well what they want to achieve and how they would love to be remembered. And here I am, watching my world become less and less like a world and more like a designated space I somehow ended up at.

Enough with the negativity; now it's time for...


What went right

I probably made more terrible choices than I can make a good one, but there were days where I actually changed the course of my life for the better. The day I got out of a toxic relationship (I still think I was the toxic one, even though the other party was the overly-possessive one). The day I chose my faith and identity over a glimpse of success and luxury. Those days I chose my family over people I barely knew. Those days were quite rare, but they happened.

I had to bury many of my dreams, but some of my naive wishes came true. I've always wanted to be an editor. I got a job as a content editor at a small company. It was not the best job, but it was one of the best turning points in my life. It didn't end well, but it brought me to another interesting path of life. I've always wanted to be a writer. When this company closed down, I had two choices: become a localization staff at a game company in Jakarta or become a content writer at a game company in Bandung. Honestly, the latter came way after I rejected the former (honestly one of the best breakup I've ever gone through), but I was so sure that I could secure a place at the latter one. The universe was surely in a good mood the day they answered my prayer.

Unexpectedly, I manage to keep in touch with my dearest college buddies. They are my only close friends, honestly. I wish I could've kept my old friends from middle and high school close the way my college buddies stay with me throughout the years. It's okay; it's a natural selection. They might not even be the same people I recall in my memories. My current job environment helps me open up to people and create a bigger, better social circle, though. At least, I don't feel like running away every time I step into the office. Some people need to learn not to awaken the monster in me, though. For the first time in years, I feel like people actually care about me. Lesson learned: show that you care first.

I learned to compromise with myself. I used to hate my physical vessel with all my might. I couldn't go out not wearing the slightest layer of makeup. Nowadays, I can't even stand the feeling of powder on my face. I completely stopped wearing layers of foundation, BB cream, concealer, powder; you name it. Nowadays, it's just lip cream and I'm done. I'm still not pretty. I'm still not skinny. My face is not flawless. My chest is relatively flat. My butt is not firm. My thighs don't have a gap. My stomach is definitely not flat. I am happy with what I have, though.

I am single. My job doesn't pay that much. My resume is not that impressive. I am still living with my parents (even though most of the days it's just me and dad, in the morning and at night). The thing is: I am happy. I don't need a man to be happy (but it would be nice to have one). I make my own money and manage to save for myself. I am paving my own career,  without any help from anyone or any connection. I am getting there, I swear I can feel it. I just need more time to make it there. My parents are still around and well. My sister is doing well in college. We are still together as if we're glued to each other, even if most of the time we live separately. They're the only people I can actually rely on, and I can say that they can count on me in return.

I learn to love myself and appreciate the smallest things around me.


What to improve

This is a tough one. I am still lacking in so many things. I think I should learn more to excel in my career. I want to be a good, versatile writer. There are so many things to learn, which require hundreds of hours of practice. I hope I can reach the point where I look back and say to myself that 'It's all worth it.' I want to write more. I want to be more articulate. I have a lot to say and I want the world to hear it. To do so, I need to study harder. I love studying, but I hate schools. I hate being in a commitment with a certain institution, so the best I can do is to learn from people around me, to read and write as much as I can.

I need to learn not to freak out when people show their interests in me. I need to learn not to suppress my emotions because most of the time, it fires back at me. I need to learn to say 'no' more. I need to learn to walk the talk. I need to be honest with myself and with the people around me. Plus, it would be nice if I can stop doing things out of courtesy, only to lead people to interpret my goodwill as something completely different, motivated by desire. I should be nice, but not overly friendly. It's funny, though, because I thought I was an introvert who shunned people away daily. Looking back, how many people have misunderstood my good intention? This definitely has to stop.

I need to understand that it's okay to be (not just do) a mistake because only then I can grow into something better. You need to fall before you can rise. Unless you can float or something. It's a privilege only a few can afford. I need to understand that people live their life at a different pace; mine might be a bit slower than others. So, it's pointless to compare your work or even life resume to others' because that's like a fast track to heartbreak and disappointment. Be wise. Be okay with what you have, but under no circumstance should I be stupid. Life is tough, and I have all the right to be wary. I should learn to enjoy it more, though.

Lastly, I need to stop living in my projection of a perfect life and, instead, bring the illusions to life. I should stop dreaming of being a good writer. I got to do something about it. I should stop dreaming of having a good relationship. I got to start creating one. I need to paint my own life instead of waiting for others to give me a pre-existing set of colors to put in the background. This hiding game has to end. It's time to seek. I should probably have my favorite phrase from my favorite person on earth tattooed on my arm. Stop hiding.


Here's to another 25 (plus one) years of living and learning.




note: edited because I am an idiot who can't do simple math

a tra(i)nce state of mind

I like taking a long ride, be it on a train or an airplane, mostly because I feel like I have a purpose, a destination to go to, but I'm not obliged to do anything in between one station and another, between the departure gate of an airport to the arrival gate of another airport. I don't really need to do anything but sit back and relax. Probably read a book or write something like I'm doing right now. Yet, it is not a waste of time. It is what it is, something that I have to go through in order to reach my destination. I am finally, temporarily, free.

Life is nothing like a long ride, though. Between one station and another, you are no longer a passenger. You are the conductor, the pilot. You are the one in charge of the train ride. You are the one who flies this airplane up across the horizon of life. There is no such thing as sit back and relax in this ride. There is no such thing as doing whatever to kill some time. This flight is endless, and you are flying it whether you like it or not.

That is why I always believe that the best time to think is when you are several thousand miles away from the ground, or when you are several hours away from disembarking your train car, while you are moving ahead of all the beautiful pieces of earth on your window and the hums of engines, the clink-clanks of the rails in the background. Nothing really bothers to stop you from letting your mind going wild inside, because eventually this moment of peace will end by the time you land or arrive.

Its only rival is the 2 a.m. thoughts that come up to you every other night, but this one is not as enjoyable as it usually leads to a depressing realization or an emotional rollercoaster as an aftermath. At least, these strangers you share your ride with will keep you in check. It is a good thing because otherwise, just like those sleepless nights, your mind will take over completely and consume the life away from your weirdly-shaped vessel called a body.

To some other people, the ride is the most boring part. To me, it is the best one. No dramas, just hours and hours of sitting and eventual walking, munching and thinking, and probably talking a little bit. That's it. It is simple. It is a job that can be done cleanly, very easily, unless anomalies happen and the whole thing becomes an unbearably endless moment of discomfort. Most of the time, however, I really enjoy it.

To be stuck in the moment, comfortably, might be the front door of a dangerous submission to the train or plane of life, though. The moment you start enjoying it, the moment you lose this game versus the neverending ride.

I think I am in the verge of losing, but honestly, I don't even mind.

places i've never but have always been to (or how i associate music with places that exist in my head and have a crisis right after)

By now, you should know the drill. I only wrote when I really need to tone down the noises inside my head.

Sometimes when I listen to a certain kind of ambient music, usually at odd hours like this when sleep is needed but not attainable, my mind would drift off to places I've never physically been to but somehow feel familiar.

Sometimes I'm in a car as if I was driving around late at night but everything was being fast forwarded. The exact same picture of a road sign would pop up in my head, but I could never figure out the words it says or where it's heading. In a way, it kind of gives off the feeling of a late night drive in a big city with huge roads (or more likely a highway). Reminds me of that one time I was driving from Kuta to Sanur after being stuck in the parking lot of Kuta Beachwalk, for some reasons.

Sometimes I'm in a house, also at night time. The house was predominantly white, with huge windows that probably oversee a garden. I don't know, it's always way too dark outside. I was somehow always walking down the stairs that lead to the house's dining room. I swear to God I've been to this house before. Probably it was from my childhood. Pretty sure it was the layout of my neighbor's house across the street of our old house in Bintaro. Not sure about the people I saw inside, though. I couldn't see their faces.

Other times, I would be walking in random places. When I do, sometimes my chest hurts as if it was something nostalgic. I don't even know if I have been there for real, to those places. In my head, though, I surely have.

Then it always leads to some degree of existential crisis. I would start thinking about how old I am now and how fast time flies. In no time, I would be 30, 40, 50, and if I'm lucky, 60, 70, 80. I don't know. I can even possibly die before my next birthday. It's not the process of dying itself that I'm afraid of. Death is natural, just like birth, but what comes after it?

Let's say I die. Now what?

The fact that I cannot say what for sure is the reasons why once awake at odd hours like this, it is so difficult to go back to sleep. Religions out there give us an idea of what would happen, but technically no one have ever proven it right. It cannot be scientifically tested, though to have faith in something does not mean that it has to be approved by the whole scientific community; the same reason why flat earthers are still here.

When I die, I imagine it would be like falling asleep to a painful headache, but will I ever wake up somewhere else? If I shut my eyes here, will I open them in another body? Will I still be me, or will I end completely with the last breath my lungs give me? Will I see my family, or will I start a new journey? Is heaven and hell even real, or are they just a metaphor of life and its reciprocity?

Will I get to see the places in my head? Are those fragments of someone else's memories or just a byproduct of my active imagination? Is it really me who go through all these images? Are those places simply the spitting images of what I have seen while being conscious? Am I trying to tell myself something?

Well, it seems for now that sleep is coming back to me. Let's get out of here, for I know I will be back in no time.


Good night.