Hello +


January, 26th 2018.

The first post in twenty eighteen; finally I went back to my normal uni life. Not yet, though, it’s still one (or two) week left –but here I am in my lodging room, far, far away from my hometown.
The first thing I did was rebuilding my desk shelf. And then I took a bath. And then I decided to watch Jonghyun’s video, for the first time since the M/V was released a few days ago. I’d told myself that I didn’t want to watch it at home, since I still couldn’t trust myself, and it was the right choice. SM Entertainment was releasing two M/Vs, and I already broke down on the first one. And here I thought I couldn’t cry anymore. 
My laptop broke down as well. I brought my old laptop with me, as well as the new (and the broken) one. I couldn’t believe that this old laptop will be here with me in this city. There were lots of nostalgic events happening with this laptop, and this one was also broke down but I repaired it two years ago.
 
I felt silly for writing this, but I want to write something for my old blog. I’ve been abandoning that old blog; I just don’t really have time to write something there.
I pre-ordered Jonghyun’s album yesterday, and I was planning to buy SHINee’s latest repackage album, since that was the last five-member album. I didn’t tell my mother –as if I ever told her whenever I bought something like that.
I don’t know. Let’s not start this year with gloominess.

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+ posted on 20180201 at 18:08
At Night I +
17 September 2017

I have responsibility to make my own life right. I feel like I don’t use that chance wisely. Yet. I think I am safe to assume that I have quite a long way to continue my living. I am just nineteen years old now; people normally die naturally at older age. Well, not like I can read the divine’s movement, though. If I am going to die tomorrow, it is okay, it is fine as heck. Oh why do we get so gloomy?

You know, I feel afraid. The thing with me is my brain tend to make everything seems bigger than it is actually. It only about cutting an onion right and my brain will make it like I have to cut the onion with the right angle, with the right choice of knife, with the perfect balance of symmetry between each cut. It is normal, I believe, it is normal to overthink. If I put it like that, it is perfectly normal, isn’t it?

But having it every day, for about four years in a row, is exhausting. I really want to do it like other people, who take new thing as a challenge for themselves, not as a threat. I want to sleep in the night without having to think about the next day, waiting for my world to crush down instantly just because I said something wrong on the previous day. I don’t want to stare up to my ceiling, thinking about my schedule, repeat it over and over, feeling like I want to quit everything I’ve done just because I think I can’t do it right.

Oh, everyone overthink! It is normal, isn’t it?

The thing with me, again, is I can look at myself as a third person. I can see what is going on inside me, and judge it without including my emotion in it, or at least judging with a very slight emotion if I can’t bear to look at my problem objectively. But that third person is still me, so it still judges me with my own understanding about things. I try so hard to be objective, even though it is I, so the result is me shutting down everything around me.

If I am sad, because of, let’s say, unrequited crush, this third person of me will say “oh, come on, this is your fault to not saying anything at the first place. This problem is made up by yourself and so you being sad will not helping anything.” And so I will try to stop being sad and shut the problem.

If I overthink something, let’s say, when an interview is coming, this third person of me will say “oh, come on, you just overthink. This is just a bloody interview, it will be all right. People overthink every day; don’t make this an excuse for you to have a depression or anxiety problem!” And so, I will try to breathe, in and out, go to sleep, and hoping that the interview will be okay.

You see, the whole thing inside my head is contradictory. On this side, I want to let my emotion out, I want to talk to people about the whole anxiety thing. But on the other side, I prevent myself to do that.

Even when I typed that, I started to think that everyone might be contradictory as well, and this is just me overthinking.


This whole anxiety thing is exhausting. I need myself to know how to cure this, but at the same time, I think this problem is too mundane to be talked with a counsellor.

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+ posted on 20170918 at 00:25
I Ramble #6 +
Sometimes I despise the fact that I cannot cry easily towards my own problem. Sure, I easily cry when I am angry, but it is not something that can be deal with crying, so it is completely useless. I am talking about crying when you are sad or in pain. Angry, on the other side, does need to be calmed down, but you can do it via another thing other than crying. But sadness; do you know the feeling when you are just so overwhelmed with emotions and you just kind of want to sit down and cry? I was craving the goodly hour of crying my heart out, but I cannot cry. I don’t know why. Is my problem not worth enough for my tears to go out? And they easily slip out when I see something animal-abuse-related-things.

So what can I do when I want to cry? I write. I write about someone else crying, I write about someone else moping, sobbing into their pillow, tears running down their cheeks. Not mine, them. But it is not the same, you know. It is not the real thing. Sure, I can describe how the crystal-like teardrop slowly pacing their way down to the cheekbones, how the green eyes look glassy filled with water, how their breath are hitched, how their face are flushing and red. But, again, it is not mine. It is them.

I believe there is some time when you can just solve the problem with crying. I believe crying is actually a good relief. I believe that crying is actually important. I believe I can cry.

But after all this time, I cannot. I wonder why. I didn’t remember that this cannot-crying-ability bothers me this much. Is that mean the older you get, the more you need to cry out your feeling? I don’t know. I don’t know. I don’t fucking know.

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+ posted on 20170804 at 23:12
Kantong Plastik Segitiga +
To the person I used to love,

Perhaps it was no love. It was just some water to my thirst of attractive face, talent, and beautiful voice. I never really knew you; I barely hanging out with you in general. Perhaps I was just seeking for a replacement, a substitute, for what I also couldn’t get in the real life. So I choose you.
Maybe it was also me searching for some truth in myself. I like you, I fancy you, just to compare my feelings toward you to my feeling toward someone else. It was my fault in the first place that I used you as a try out. Eventually I fell for you as well.

It was just a silly game, a sweet and sour game of youth. I didn’t regret the feeling I had to you before. It gave me experience, harshly speaking; it gave me a sip of human sample in general. I blamed myself entirely of that; why did I tell my friend, why didn’t I just shut my mouth. However, if I didn’t tell my friend that I liked you, the rumour and the story would never exist. The unknown link that I’d sent you in your birthday would never be sent. The secret voice messages that your classmate sent to me would never happen.

Yet, I would be lying if I said I didn’t looking forward to see you in the future. When my friend randomly sent a picture of you hanging out with her one night, I would be lying if my heart didn’t skip a beat. I still like you, but I will be happier if you are with someone else and not me. To love you like that, I have learn that I actually care about someone else a lot. Not you. And it even leads up to the point where I actually say it to the person.

But, to the person I used to love,

It was nice to know you, really. Yesterday, I was just a new, sleek plastic bag that hadn’t been used. Then you filled me with a lot of things; with know-hows, with hatred, with loves. And, like how your long, slender fingers folded the bag after you threw away everything inside it, I am now the triangle-shaped plastic bag; still me, but in different shape.


Oh my god, why did I use plastic bag as the reference.








Jogja,
31-07-2017

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+ posted on 20170731 at 19:55
Blurp +
The older I am, the crazier I become. Or, the older I am, the lamer I become? Last night I tried to cut my hand again but I somehow cringed at the fraction made between the blade and my skin. Laughing out loud, somehow I felt like a shit because I used to do it back then in secondary school? I even excused from a sport activity because ‘I accidentally got my hand sliced’ (but I heard someone didn’t buy it and accusing me as ‘a mad kid’ because they knew I cut my hand on purpose. But I don’t care any more.).

Why I cut again? Well, why not (nervous laugh). No, wait.
I got this crazy thought yesterday, when I lied down in my bed, couldn’t sleep thanks to my toothache. Then suddenly this slipped into my mind: what if I make another pain so perhaps I will focused on it more than this shitty pain in my mouth? Let’s try!

I didn’t have a blade, so I borrowed my room-mate’s instead. But then I got shaky hand? And I just managed a small, a very very small scar? And I felt like a freaking coward? Laughing out loud, thinking about it now, it is ridiculous enough to think that I am a coward because I can not sliced myself open by myself.

But, anyway, the pain got distracted. And I started to think that this is kind of a good idea as long as people don’t find the thin red line on my left arm. And, plus, it wasn’t that deep. I am still a chicken to actually make a deep, more painful wound.

Perhaps if I am on some point in the future and I looked back, the future me will yell at my ears ‘why don’t you go to the freaking doctor?’. Well, the one-minute-future me already shouting it everyday, though. The thing is I don’t have any spare time right now. Maybe I can go next week, but now? Not really. Got a lot of stuff happening and exam week is approaching. Maybe this is the best solution I can find right now? (nervous laugh)

Anyway, I am not depressed or such. And back then when I was in secondary school, I thought slicing up myself was fun. Ha ha ha ha, don’t look at my blog like that.
Let’s just pray for this week’s exam.

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+ posted on 20170506 at 10:45
Guess what, +
Dwell yourself on a hole of destructive and sceptical thought every night is not a good habit to have; either people will blame you for ‘over-exaggerating’ or ‘over-reacting’ or people will come to you and cry with you. It does not matter which one, it still a bad thing to keep. Men* if you do not have anything to do except staring at your plain ceiling in the dark and wondering how to lose your weight fastly, you do not have much choice.
Halla**, this is me being a weeb*** with my limited Norwegian vocabulary just because I am currently watching a Norway TV show.
Special post, because tomorrow is my birthday (I am typing this on Sunday) and my homework are somehow already done.
Anyway.
I can not help but think, when I was walking to bathroom earlier, that birthday is bringing us a step closer to a possible devastating future. We aged, and along with it, people will increase their expectation on us, and eventually we will just live to pleased other people. Those optimistic people will say that pleasing people actually can please our-self as well, but, hey, I do not want to be a doctor just for a job. If I am a doctor, it means that I love it, I like being one with those bloody organs and I think that every detail of human vein is beautiful and interesting. I am a doctor not because people tell me to do so. In short, I want to do something because I like it, not because I have to and forced to do it.
But the thing with future and such things in my country (and perhaps other country as well?) that they have some kind of standard. You are good if you are a doctor, or engineer. You are good if you enrolled in this school. You are good if you are smart at mathematic and science. And blah, blah, blah, I think this issue is familiar.
Back to birthday.
Birthday; birth and day, and according to my own definition is: a freaking particular day when everyone celebrate your birth at the same date when you are born. It is important, for some people, and they will throw a party and congratulate the person who is having their birthday.
When we are older, people expect us to be more mature. It is the time when a number is suddenly so important and settling all of our behaviour. If you are twenty five, most people will raised their eyebrows if you buy a large set of Barbie house. It is suddenly wrong if you play under the rain, all wet, when you are thirty years old. You act like a child, they will say. With this examples, I feel like aging up is n-
MY LAPTOP JUST TURNED WHITE ONE MINUTE AGO AND I CAN’T TURN IT OFF FOR GOD’S SAKE I HAD TO OPEN THE BATTERIES AND FORCED IT TO TURN OFF SHIT I SHOULD GET THIS SHITTY LAPTOP TO THE SERVICE CENTRE ISTG-
I feel like aging up is not fun. You will meet a lot of restrictions, a lot of do nots, a lot of weight put in your shoulder.
The reason why I write this in the first place, actually, is because everyone around me is not acting like themselves. Not that I know the true them, though, but being with them now is not that fun any more. There will be a saying in some point that ‘you are older now, Alice, so you have to this and this and realise that this is this’ and other shits.
Yes, I realise and understand that being older mean more responsibility. I know that. This is contradict to what I have said earlier but it is incorrect to say that I do not realise that. But I want to be me, I still want to play under the rain when I am thirty. I do not want to act like I like wearing tight blouse and stocking when what I want to wear is just T-shirt and a pair of shoes. Well, with a pants on, please.
I know that I have bigger responsibility, bigger problems to solved, bigger goal to achieve. But age is just a number. You can be a super star in sixteen years old while the sixteen years old me is mastering nothing.
And I do not want to change. Like people around me. I hate change. I do not know why. Perhaps it is just me being a coward. Perhaps it is just me being lazy. I do not know.
So. Congratulate me, I do not mind. But I just do not understand the meaning behind that greeting any more. Maybe if you ask the fifteen years old me, maybe I will just say ‘thank you’ to the people who wish me a happy birthday. Ah, and I am sorry. These days I do not really mean the birthday I said to people. It is just a requirement, it is what people usually do.
Or you can see it like this: the congratulation is just a warn, from everyone who wish you one. A warning about what? It is only you who can interpret that. Unless the person had said it clearly (like, “Happy birthday, I hope you get your grades higher this year.”) the meaning of the wish is limitless. Happy birthday, today is your unlucky day because you are an accident. Happy birthday, today is the day when you will get bullied because it is your birthday. Happy birthday, because I love you. Happy birthday, because you are closer to death now. And hundreds more meaning behind the word ‘happy birthday’.
Aside from the birthday topic, I have realised that I can not write straight. This writing is already out of tangent. The thesis statement is not clear; heck it is not even there at the first place. The connection between each paragraph is not good. Hell, I need to fix my formal writing.
Lastly, I am sorry if this writing is offending you at any level. And if you do not understand the point that I wanted to show here, do not ask me. If you do not understand, just get out from this blog and do not comeback, okay. You will not miss anything interesting. This is just a ramble, after all.
Ha det.**** See you later if I feel like updating this blog again.





*Men: But
**Halla: Hello
***Weeb: Google it. Urban dictionary knows.
****Ha det: Goodbye

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+ posted on 20170416 at 23:40
My Birthday is Two Weeks Away (i ramble #5) +
My birthday is two weeks away. Not exactly two weeks; it is one week and five days away, to be exact. I don’t remember what did I want at my last birthday, but this year’s wish is actually very simple. It is simple yet it is complicated. I can not really do it, but, I can wish for anything in my birthday, right?
I want to go home. I want to go back at my secondary school days; the time when I ever cried at a short story in front of the class, the time when I can bring myself to cut my flesh open, the time when I thought I was crazy, but I am now is, actually, much crazier.
I want to go back and see you, next to my classroom, sitting on your brown desk, not looking up at me because you don’t realise me there. Perhaps I will patiently wait for you outside, until someone notice me and tell you that I am here. No, no, it will be too cliché, it’s cheesy as fuck, it’s not happening. Let’s change the situation.
I want to go back and see you, in front of me, laughing, with our circle of friends, whatever which one it is, and nothing bothered you except your maths exam, probably. The day when we were still under the same school was the time when problems were not as big as today. Nothing could be worried of except our grades, or how we get to colour our hair without being noticed by the teacher, perhaps. We would talk about nonsense in our chat-room; talking about weird animals, the latest memes, weirdest medical case that got viral, and maybe, it ever happened one time, sharing ghost stories.
But now everything bothered you; I wonder why I never see you happy in the chat-room any more. You talked about difficult exams, a weird, over-exaggerating friend, or-
Wait, I just scrolled down our chat-room and I think you are okay. For now.
Still, be happy, okay? Not for me, but for yourself, and because smiling and laughing are healthy. You can talk crap about your latest activity; the most boring one, the most happy one. This chat-room is for everyone inside it to released their pressure, to share about their day, to refresh ourself out.
And, to be honest, this is not what I intended to write.
My wish for my birthday is that I can turn the time, back to the day when I was still younger, a foolish teen girl that thought everything was going to be okay with not telling. I want to tell you, sooner, that I like like you, and value our day together for still being in the same school. Perhaps I can make up my mistake for encouraging me to go to that school; instead of going with whatever choice you want. Perhaps it will change everything.
If I can turn back the time, I will choose that moment, when we were in the final grade, not for studying harder for getting into the same school with everyone, but to make up my mistakes; the one that you even don’t realise and the other things that I have in my head.
But nothing can be came through at crying over spilt milk. I am here now, and you are miles away from here. I am typing in front of my laptop, without internet connection, and I don’t know what are you doing in this exact minute. Sleeping, perhaps, but I’m not sure.
And because I can not turn back the time, I really want to lie down in my bed, at my birthday day, not attending class and such. I just want to rest my body on the bed, staring up at the ceiling, with the noise from the fan playing in the background. My phone is in my hand, with internet connection, and I will stare at the messages that come through my chat-room one by one, sending me a merry birthday message, well, if someone send me one. The only thing I want to do is talking to you, via chat-room, just talking like usual; about nonsense things, without any pressure on.
But that wish is also can not be done because my birthday is in Monday and I have three important classes in Monday. Screw university life.
Perhaps I can just sneak in. Or not attending class for once. Since I never not coming in Monday classes.
I wonder…

5 April 2017

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+ posted on 20170408 at 21:07
I Ramble #4 +
I am stressed out. Aside from it is actually exhausting, but what I’m doing to repel my stress is even more exhausting. I am becoming the dream me; a not-socially-awkward version of me, sending jokes to everyone, doing something silly out of the blue, and everything I will not do when I am not stressed. But when it’s bed time, I will sigh and think about “why the heck am I doing these things because of my stress”. It is more tiring than just sitting around, making hopeless face, not wanting to do anything, or any other thing that usually people do when they are stressed out. And because of that, people sometimes mistake that as a usual version of me, the normal one, not the stressed out one.

My normal version of me? I will sit silently, headphones on, with sketchbook and or book on my hand, and not talking to everyone. I won’t appear on the group-chat, nor I will send funny pictures repeatedly.

It wasn’t me, who send those silly pictures. It was the stressed out version of me. And it makes me tired, even more than the real reason why I’m stressed out itself.

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+ posted on 20170207 at 22:36
thoughts. +
I was freaking eighteen years old already and I don't even know why I cried at the God-knows-how-many-times I've re-read Harry Potter and The Deathly Hallows. I just finished it a minute ago, and here I am, in my dormitory room --oh, yes, a dormitory-- with puffy eyes and silently weeping because my roommate is still awake.

The thing with children book --is Harry Potters series considered as a children book? I thought it was, but the seventh one? Let's just assume that it was too-- I repeat, the thing with children book is, as you grow older, you have seen much more thing than your younger self, and all the problem in the book; the thing, the facts, the inside jokes, the nasty language; you realize that the book is somewhat left you a message, a deep message that maybe the children can not even decipher.

This freaking book, the very last book from Harry Potter series, had taught children how to not behave badly to get what they want. To love people well. To fight the bad side. To fight for the weak.

But then, did the children actually know and understand about the sacrifices, the dark fear that almost everyone had, the secret behind Hermione's fear of being spelled and all of potterhead theories, the true love in loving someone, all the pride, all the hate, all the joy, how Narcissa protect Harry just for seeing her Draco, the marauder's lively friendship, all the mischief, Sirius's twelve years of waiting, how Ron's fury to Harry on the fourth book, all the pain of Snape hiding his love for Lily, all the shame Slughorn held in his head, all of Fudge's fear for Voldemort, all of Voldemort weaknesses...

And don't forget that bitch Umbridge; even we can forgive Snape and the Malfoys, but not Umbridge.

What I mean is, this freaking children book is amazing. Go search Harry Potter text post on tumblr and you will find dozen text about people scrumming down Harry Potter facts and connecting it with actual science; psychology theories and logical thinking about why this character did this, why was this happening, why wasn't that instead --and even though it is part of the fandom's guess, it is still true, and we can actually relate it to the book. That is why this series is amazing --no, that is why literary work is amazing.

Go read this series for the last time, if you want to. I think if we re-read it with different knowledge of the world, we might get the actual meaning of the writer's intention, not mentioning the deep ones. And maybe that is why we always here in the fandom, until the very last time, because we love this book so much, and also the characters, and the story, and of course the world inside it.

And remember your answer if people ask you if you are still re-reading this book after all this time,

"Always."

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+ posted on 20161226 at 21:28
Update: Headache +
So I finally realized why I have this constant headache - because right now I'm typing with weight on my head.

My sleeping time had reversed from the usual one. I mean -- I usually sleep at ten or maybe twelve when I have a lot of work to do, but these days I kept sleeping around two or three in the morning and, I don't even know, I think this is developing as a habit. But the thing is, I have a lot of thing to do in the day so I can't sleep.

So basically my body now wants to sleep in the day and awake in the night, like a freaking vampire. Last night I barely closed my eyes and lied in my bed with my eyes wide open, while my roommates were sleeping soundly. And eventually I felt sleepy around five in the fucking morning, and I fucking can actually sleep.
And I woke up around eight to head to uni and finished my assignment.

Not finished, since I'm still doing it right now, and distracted by this fucking headache and I WANT TO SLEEP IN MY BED HELP ME.

I have exam around three, which is four hours from now, but I have to finish this assignment today no matter what -- because this assignment's score will be graded as my final exam score as well.

I am sitting in my uni's bench right now, with sleepy and aching head, and a lot of tabs opened in my chrome, and a plastic glass of iced tea -- does iced tea great for headache? I don't freaking know, I just want to sleep, oh God.

All right.

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+ posted on 20161215 at 11:03
Headache +
I Ramble #3

I had this funny headache since this morning. Maybe it was because of the sudden wake up this morning? I don’t know. All I know is this sickness had been lingering until the time I write this. I had a quick nap around two hours, but the headache was still there. I had to not tie my hair up even though it was so hot in this room, because it made the headache worse.

Maybe it was from the heat? Or the lack of eating? It is funny how not-eating makes you sick all day, and creates a lot of funny things happen to your body. No I don’t think that this is from the lack of eating, because I do eat. I ate my brunch around twelve. I don’t eat dinner, though, but all this time it was fine. It was fine until today. Why the headache choose today? Why not yesterday, why not the day before yesterday when everything was all right.

Oh yes, I am rambling. I wasn’t choosing the title without meaning; by ramble I mean talking nonsense about all the things that maybe it is not actually happening but I feel like it is.
But, wait, this headache is actually happening, I swear. By the time I finish this, I will take a shower and try to cool down my head under the coldness of the water.

Why I had to write this down? I don’t know. I don’t have anyone to talk to so maybe I will talk to Microsoft Word and hoping to it to responds me. What a sad life. No. I like to write down things; it helps me calm down and forget about it for a while with re-explore the details of the event which I want to write down. It works, for me, though. I don’t know how remembering things can make me forget the things. It was on the different line with remembering what-to-be-remembered like my subjects for exam and such, obviously. If it works like that too, I won’t be remembering anything about my lessons.

I don’t have anything to be nibbled on. I wish I have a bag of crisps with me…


Dec 14th 2016

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+ posted at 09:14
tuning out. +
I Ramble #2

It is kind of hard if we are in a situation without internet connection. My roommate ever says that she cannot live without internet, because she needs it. Up until now I haven’t buy a proper data for my phone’s internet (which is kind of a shame because when finally my phone is an iPhone but I have no internet connection in that phone) and she wonders how can I manage to, uhm, continue my life without internet.

In fact, there are a lot of things that can distract you from internet. A bunch of unwatched anime and TV series, for example. I actually enjoy my time without internet, really. I have a lot of e-books, a lot of animes, and I can write with peace.

It is nice, you know, running from your real life for a while and burry yourself in your own world. Locking yourself in your room with a fan on is not a preferable activity for most people, though, but for me it is great. Well, not always great, but it is, for most of the time.

Silent phone –without any vibrations from countless group-chats, or twitter’s notification—is calming. Unless you are expecting an important news, it is pleasant for having your phone off for a month or more.

Like, right now.

Even though I like my friends –I do like you so much, guys—but I still have this funny thing when I want myself to not communicating with them for a while. I am sorry, to be honest. Tuning out yourself from the world is like a drug for me; it’s addicting, I need to do it more often.
But I still like my friends. But I don’t want them to interfere. But I want to get to know them. But I don’t want myself to make the same mistake as I did before. Funny how things can be so contradict in a single person. I think I only making it up, don’t I? I don’t know anymore. The barrier between making it up and the real anxiety itself is very thin; it’s barely seen by a mundane.

Wait, what, why are we talking about anxiety? This tuning out thing is not counted as an anxiety; it’s just a mere bullshits, coming from a confused and angsty teenager who watch too much anime, TV series, movies, and a load of shits that are not real.


The thing is, I have a happy life –that’s what I think. Why I keep saying things like this to myself? Nice, this is what people call an attention seeker, isn’t it? It is horrible, you know, when you feel like there are a lot of eyes everywhere and feel like everyone is watching you wherever you walk. It is horrible, when you keep thinking your friends are talking about you behind your back. What if it’s real, what if actually they do talk about you; the way you walk, the way you move, the way you talk, the way you run from everything if possible, the way you— why am I being like this.

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+ posted on 20161214 at 10:12
When I +
When I locked up my heart, I didn’t know when will I open it again. Maybe tomorrow, maybe later, maybe not. I throw away the key already, I didn’t see where it fell. Someone will find it and return it to me, or something will destroy it, and my heart will never be opened.

When I moved here, I told myself to do a different mindset. Challenge yourself, that’s what most people told us to do. I tried. But, then I felt like I’m faking it. It was not me. It was not Alice. And whenever that personality came up, the same question appeared again and again.

Is this what you want to be? A liar?

When I tried to join the flow, I always asked myself first. Was this okay? Was this sounded fake? I tried to ignore the voices, but, they were always helplessly there. The thought clouded my mind, and, before I knew it, I fell into a dark, twisted, and endless pit of consumption.

What ifs.

What if, what if we run away?

It’s Troye Sivan reference, if you don’t know.

When will I think I survived this life? I don’t know. Probably tomorrow, probably later, probably not. I didn’t want to be the same Alice I did back in high school, but, then, I didn’t want to be the fake Alice I did in high school too.

I laughed but frowned inside. I grinned but cried inside. Even when I wrote it down, it sounded disgusting.

When I thought I had friends, I didn’t. Maybe it was only on the beginning, but, I felt the same pattern I’ve done in high school. Maybe everything will change, maybe tomorrow, maybe later.

Maybe not.

Still, I’m blaming myself for throw away the key. I tried to find it, but I don’t even know where it fell down.

When I locked up my heart, I didn’t think I’ll regret it later. I didn’t want to be like this, but, at the same time I endured myself too much. I didn’t want to be hurt. I wanted to stay in my comfort zone. I was a coward. And always.

When I knew I couldn’t last long with this mindset, I tried to find the key harder. But, tears had blurred my eyes too much. When I tried to wipe it away, it wet my glasses.

When I wrote this, I knew this will be another four hundred words of my useless ramblings.

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+ posted on 20160818 at 14:53
When I Decided to Come Back Home +
It means unlimited WiFi connection, you know? There was a great feeling when your phone connected by itself to your own WiFi.

And, home means cats. A lot of cat.

And, foods. You don't have to think about what's for dinner when you are in home.

The ceilings feel a little bit smaller than before. Maybe it was because you are slowly used to your dormitory.

And, your books! You missed your books too much, weren't you?

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+ posted on 20160811 at 11:23
Play. Pause. Rewind. +
Play. Pause.

You open your eyes, very slowly, and stared to the empty ceiling above you. No, your mom is not there, she is not burning there like the Winchester's do. There is nothing there.

 But, suddenly you realize. Well, you have a sudden realization about yourself, it's great. 

 You was thinking about all those actions you'd make. All those distance you'd create. Suddenly you realize that it was not on purpose. 
Well, it was on purpose, but you didn't realize that it will become like that.

Rewind.

Can you? You can't.

Now you are separated by distance, a real distance, and you don't even know whether is that your fault or not. You blame yourself for everything, like usual.

Wait, you do a mutual conversation earlier, right?

But you don't think it will help?

What a pity.

Play. Pause.

You stare at your phone. Its light is too bright. Mini balloons keep popping up on the screen, containing words and sentences.

 Suddenly you realize that it was all about jealousy. You love it too much. It hurts.

What a hideous word.

You didn't think you will be ignored like that? It is not an ignorance, you, silly. It's all on your head. It's only in your head.

But, still.

You think it was your fault, aren't you?
Ah, as usual.

Rewind.

Can you? You can, but you don't want to.

Was that hurt? Yes? A lot? You did a great act yesterday, then. Congratulation.

Play. Pause.

 Rewind.

Oh, the cassette is broken.

No, no, it is not your fault, really.

What? You can't help it?

But there's no point in blaming yourself for everything and do nothing to repair that, sweetie.

What, I am cruel? Ho, didn't I tell you earlier?

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+ posted on 20160724 at 01:12
I Ramble #1 +
I stared at my cats which were sleeping on my bed. They looked so comfortable, heck, even though they were sleeping in a weird position.
Like they didn't care about anything at all.

I've been thinking lately, about this house. You know about those summer cabin which often appears on novels? Like, when it's summer time or winter break, people in novel will go there and spend the whole vacation with their family. You got it? Good.

I felt like this house is like those house. I mean, my aunt's family in Singapore will always spend their school vacation in here. They will come here at least once a year, before they come back to Singapore and back to their usual life.

Everything here is not changing. This house is not experiencing a major changes. We still own that same radio we bought over ten years ago. And the referigerator too. And the beds, and the TVs, and the wardrobes, and everything!
Aside from the city's upgrade, it is like this house is trapped in some error time machine. Nothing will ever change.

Well, the people in it is the only one who change. I am not the same Alice from ten years ago. My sister is growing up, and now we lost one of this house's inhabitant.

We have new cats here, though. My first aunt was strongly object this desicion, but, meh, we're still bringing these cats in. She likes it, I know it, but she just too thick headed to realize that.

Aside from the cat, I've always think about this house as a large, cold house. There's no warmth in this house. I'm not quite sure what I mean about warmth. Is it the people inside? Is it the comfy furniture?

I don't know.

I've always feel like there's a large hole inside this house and it makes everything here looks colder than it's is, and nothing can stop it.

Fun fact, I lived in my mother's house before I went here. My mom said I need to accompany my first aunt since this house is big, so, when I go to high school I go here.
And when the first time I moved here, I don't like this house. As I said before, this house is lacking its warmthness, so every night I always curled up inside my thin blanket, and thought about things I can do to make my room warmer.

And it's succeed, because I rarely left my room when I'm here.

Now that I get used to this house, I rarely feel the coldness anymore.

Why am I writing this, I'm not quite sure. I was influenced by Rainbow Rowell's Fangirl, which what I read at the moment. It's surprisingly good. Maybe I will read Rowell's other book if I got enough money to buy the actual book.

Done.

This is just another weird ramble.

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+ posted on 20160627 at 21:57
☚ older