When was the last time?

I don't believe in "you just know."

What an awful answer that is. "How do you know?" "You just know."

My problem with that is: You never actually know. You could be wrong. Or, you could be right that you do know, but somehow it's not reciprocated.

I don't believe in "soulmate."

It's just a lazy word for explaining how things just work, how compatible they are, and how two people can see themselves willing to tolerate each other.

My problem with that is: If there are soulmates in this life, mine should have been you. But I don't think that we'll ever get any closer than that.

I don't think that we'll ever look at each other in the eye and feel equally relieved that, against all odds, we found each other.

And I don't know, do I? All I know is that I can't remember the last time I looked at someone and thought to myself, will you just look at him?

Because, God.

Your warm smile.

Your intoxicating laugh.

Your sense of humour.

Your mild sarcasm.

Your soothing voice.

Your eyes. On me.

. . .

If there was ever such a thing as soulmate, and how you know that is "you just know" ... Then you are mine. You should be mine. Because I just know.

But you're not, are you?

Friendship, Reflected

People told me that the older you get, the smaller your circle of friends would become.

I don't like to tell people that it's impossible to find new friends when you're an adult, but it's just... you change. You change your idea of what friendship means. You change your priorities. You change your view about someone, because then you realize that they weren't in a phase: it was them all along, and you can't change that. And most importantly, you change your mind. You made up your mind into thinking that you don't need toxic friends in your life. One way or another, you learn that if you know that a friend only brings you headache, you need to cut them out.

Somebody told me that I seem to have a very tight-knit group of friends who are solid. I don't know what kind of image I presented to the world, but I would assume that they thought I have the kind of group of friends like the friends in Friends (yes, that TV show we've been watching for the gazillionth time on Netflix). I guess that's true to a certain extent... I mean, there is not a lot of us, and we do seem to have some certain permanent members.  But in hindsight, I may have had a mild test run on that phase of life filtering out people who will no longer stay in it.

I know I'm not that old, so spreading wisdom shouldn't be my cup of tea yet. But I'm the kind of 24 year old who find enlightenment from her 17-year-old writings and old tweets, so I guess I am Ms. Smarty Pants.

The way I see it (and I did not see it this way before, because I'm an adult and... I change), what makes friends friends is commitment. Surprise, surprise. Turns out friendship does look a lot like romantic relationship, huh?

My friends and I have been though a phase where we did not see each other for a period of time and the humans we see were literally from a certain group of people: co-workers, family at home, clients. Uber drivers, maybe. That's it. And life (I guess) wasn't so bad that way, but it was not a good life. I personally missed my friends, missed our inside jokes, and felt pathetic for not knowing a world outside of people at work that I could not even choose at all.

I guess it worked similarly with my friends that at a certain point, we collided. We decided that we may not have as much time together as we did back then. We know we have different priorities now. We know that being selfish is so teenager/early 20s bitch. So we changed. We began to compromise: with time, and place, and not having the presence of everyone.

The older you get, the more you understand that it's a little too much to ask for someone to be 24/7 there for you. I know that there are all of these songs and movies written about friends who are always there for you, even when it's 2 AM and you're trying to hook up with some random guy, but that just doesn't happen. Sure, some people have that person and it's great for them. But if you don't have that? Honey, it's probably only because real life isn't always like that!

x

Horse Power

If you have not made yourself familiar with Netflix's BoJack Horseman, you should.

It's funny, and at times, can be strangely scary. In a good way, though. In a way that desperate, possibly depressed young people approaching quarter-life crisis would appreciate.

Thank me later.

Coming into terms with... who else?

I miss everyone. I miss my mom and dad. My sisters. My best friends. Even my former co-workers. I miss the routine that I was familiar with in past 3 years. I miss coming home to a group of people with whom I should make proper interaction with, even though we usually didn't (because everyone has a life and were somehow weary of it). I miss every single thing that I had back home. And as to everything else that has ever happened before, I didn't realize how precious they are.

It's probably part of adjusting to a new life, or a mere mechanism that my subconscious mind made when she's faced with very real issues here (friends with wives and kids who go to school, bills that keep on coming and so forth) but here I am, learning to understand myself so hard in order to accept it better.

What that entails: spending most of time alone with myself, listening to my own inner voices, and confronting my deepest, worst fears to tame some parts of me that I haven't made peace with. What I found so far has been kind of... strange.

I feel like nobody should love me.

Self-loathing is so high school. I know that. Still, that doesn't mean that I don't experience it anymore.

And as if that kind of self-loathing doesn't create insecurity and paranoia that aren't crippling enough, trust me, it's so lonely to feel like that in this place. In this country. In this school. With this environment. Nobody actually have time to dwell and indulge in that kind of suffering or whatever self-pity that I'm feeling. 

A Certain Kind of Happiness

It was so vividly true and I can sense your being right there; holding me in your arms, my head resting on your muscular shoulder, not letting me go away. You told me you love me, and this relationship (or lack of official status thereof), though short, is real. That you were glad that we finally confirmed it due to the little guy's arrival; because if it wasn't for him, we'd probably will never take it seriously.

I remember feeling so happy---not shameful, as many would expect me to be. I was over the moon, and I couldn't remember feeling the same way ever. I've been happy these days, obviously. But it's something about this kind of happiness--this particular, certain kind of happiness that fills my heart with so much joy. This feeling that I was loved, and you are the giver of the love, that I was not expecting I'd miss.

In Transit

Hi, everyone.

For some reason, this is an issue that I haven't really discussed with anyone other than that one time, when I was drowsy with a very weird kind of fondness... or affection.

So, yes, the truth of the matter is, I'm moving to Chicago, IL, for school.

Yep, none--and I mean, absolutely nothing--about this change was totally planned at all. I did not even know I would be taking this opportunity up until last March. If it sounds like a news to you, so does it for me.

I'm currently in transit at Narita, Tokyo. For some reason, I booked the second best class the flight has to offer, and so I'm kind of completely #BLESSED with so much leg room, a reclining seat, AND airport lounges in Jakarta and Narita. Wow. I've been flying since I was 5 years old and never have I ever been used to so much fancy like Narita airport lounge, and this isn't even the First Class Lounge.

You know, I rarely write something that just pops out of my head like this. I don't treat this blog like a Twitter (duh). But something tells me that I will be writing more regularly these days--actually, either that, or stops writing at all, but that isn't that strange coming from me. Somehow I think that I will have so much voices inside my head that I can't talk out with just about anyone.

Anyhow.

I will be writing more in the days to come--before my classes start in late August. For now, let me just say that I am blessed beyond belief. And that I feel loved. I feel empowered. I feel strong... even when I'm not really trusting myself to do this.

Hey Jude

There are a lot of issues I need to figure out while anticipating my upcoming quarter-life crisis. From loneliness to future plans, career, love, and everything else in between, something struck out the most; and it wouldn't have had I not been having intense discussion about who I am and how I handle things with one of my best friends.

Jude St. Francis is a character in Hanya Yanagihara's A Little Life who has gone through so much in his past, so bad that it never left him. Nobody, not even his three best friends and Harold Stein, the well-respected law professor he's grown close to, could convince him that he's worthy of something good, just like everybody else. And nothing, not his achievements, not even Harold's respect and love for him, could cure him of his insecurity. No matter what they all did--Harold even adopted him as his adult son--could make Jude believe that he is capable--and deserving--of happiness. The way he saw it, eventually everyone will regret ever loving him and will immediately turn their backs on him. That somehow loving him is a regrettable act because he is a man who is so undeserving of love, that people who love him are either blind or incapable of seeing that he is deeply flawed, and when they found something with him, they'd leave him. Jude loves those people, of course. But he would never be ready to lose any of them, so he'd prefer not to get too attached with anyone so that when these people actually leave, he won't be as devastated.

So with Jude, it's like people could have bought the moon for him, and still he won't believe that he's worthy of love and respect.

But this is not a post about Jude St. Francis.

Over a year ago, I wrote something similar to this post (or at least, what this is supposed to be). I was leaving people who meant a lot to me; perhaps not just people, but the whole routine that we used to do. I remember someone cried while I bid my farewell, and I went home, writing my heart out while trying to hold back some tears, and I thought, God. Why didn't I realise how much they loved me? The feeling, the memory of such melancholia, feel so fresh, even today.

This time, nobody cried. If anything, the day went just like any other day before it: busy, full of surprises, but just a little more cheerful than usual. But then I went home later that night--after a glass of lychee martini--and as I was gulping down cold water due to the extreme thirst it left me with, I felt a tinge of sadness... like there's something missing. It was as if I left something I held so dear; a precious possession that I did not know I had but knew existed.

Starting tomorrow, you won't feel much-needed anymore. You won't hear someone saying that you have half of his brain. You won't hear him telling you and other people point blank what a heartbreaker you are. You won't hear him saying how it's his loss that you're gone, and that it was his privilege to be someone you look up to; someone whose opinion of you, mattered to you. You won't easily name someone who simply respects you, despite what you believe yourself to be.

But you also won't hear him making strange comments about you or anything else. You won't have to allow him to push you into a lion's den anymore. You won't have to push and be pushed anymore; you know how all of these pushing games have been so tiring for you? Don't you remember how scared you are to be put into place where elsewhere, it would have to be someone at least 5 years your senior? Where's all that wounds from the exhaustion you keep getting?

I know that it had not been all great. But it had not been all bad, either. As always, I'm so forgetful and my capacity is not enough to contain everything at once, so naturally it chose to take in only the good ones. I'm still wondering why the sadness feels so tough and even hurts a little...

...but deep down, I always know that it was because that night, a Jude St. Francis was losing his Harold Stein.

Shared Words

Remember when I promised that I will keep everything about you to myself? Because I felt like every single thing about you is a sacred and precious possession that I will never want to share with anybody else? Remember?

Just like I have promised myself--a million times, indeed, that it's started to lose its meaning--that I will never produce a single word of you ever again, I have very recently told somebody else--another soul--about you. I was very subtle and careful--not a single mention of your name or any other clues that will enable them to find out about you--and the way those words came out of my mouth...

...you have no idea how I have never, ever, said any word about someone that gave my heart chills and warmth as much as those words did.

I stood by my stance: You are too precious for anybody else to know. My memory of you--short and perhaps irrelevant now--is something that I have kept locked deep inside my heart for years, and ridiculous as it is, I am never letting go.

A Lonely Wanderer

When I was younger, whenever I went traveling with my family or friends, I like to look at some of the solo travelers who has their eyes fixed on a book or phone monitor all the time. They are usually the same: minimum baggage, small or simple cabin items, and an aura of complete independence. Sometimes when I look at them, I wonder where they are coming or going to; what makes them alone in a busy, bustling airport; why they are alone, why they're not with friends or family; what it feels like for them to actually be alone in the middle of a crowded place like an international airport; and more importantly: is it nice, being alone in a flight to a foreign place?

Now, a few years from then, at 24 years old, I no longer have to wonder. Here I am. Right in the shoes of those people for whom I have a lot of questions.

Disclaimer: This opinion is based solely on a solo business travel, not a literal solo traveling for soul searching, fun, adventure, etc. So no, I'm not speaking for every solo travelers out there and yes, traveling solo is still in my bucket list. 

BUT, even though I cannot speak for everyone and all of the following narrative are based on my personal experience, what I want to tell the younger me this:

First of all: It's not what it's all cracked up to be.

I like being on my own; some people might even say I like solitude a bit too much. But to travel alone, regardless of the purpose, is a moment where you are completely face to face with yourself. I don't know about you (well, I know... I was you) but as much as I love myself, there are still some pieces of me that I haven't made peace with, and those pieces can suddenly resurface when I'm alone with my thoughts--case in point: being alone waiting for a plane in an airport where everyone is a stranger; or even in the plane alone itself, when you don't really have that much to do and the fact that the cabin crew spent so much time flying but still manage to have full make up on with 100-watt smile annoys you so much.

Second of all: It's just plain... lonely.

You know that excitement when you find something new in a new place? Like a McDonald's menu that's only available in that country or a certain quirk that's considered a mundane object in that place, but very strange to you. And I know that you're young, so the thought of you traveling alone in an all-expenses paid journey, enjoying the kind of indulgence you otherwise wouldn't spend some money on is just unthinkable....

But spoiler alert: all of that, you're gonna enjoy alone. 

I know that you're not the kind of person who mind being alone (nor do you think that it's such a bad thing to die alone with cats) but trust me... you'll wish you can share all that excitement with someone else; someone who would understand what it feels, even if they can't actually be there with you.

Presence

I know I had a little too much wine before bed.
But it felt real.
You were there, sleeping next to me in an empty bed that's too comfortable for me.
I felt the warmth of your breath and smelled the stale aroma of your aftershave.
Your presence have warmth.
You were almost real.
You always were. An almost.

Cheaper by Two Dozens

I like birthdays. I think birthdays are great; it's a way to remember that you were once a baby who only lie there in someone's arms and boss people around, when those are also the people who had to fight tooth and nail to bring you into this world and (hopefully) to raise you, up to the point where you actually deserve to boss people around. I say deserve because I hope you'll get there... but once you're there, you really don't have to.

If you are reading this, chances are, you are my friend and you knew already that I turned 24 this April. If you did send me birthday wishes, showered me with love and gifts and threw me a celebration, THANK YOU. I cannot thank you enough. You know I'm a bit of an attention whore and therefore I could always use a day where I'm the star and people would think and behave in my favour. Yep. I'm not a #GirlBoss. More of a #BossBaby kind of gal.

The truth of the matter is I was kind of nervous turning into this age. I realise now how closer I am to all the stories about growing up that adults always told me. I don't actually believe in the 'quarter life crisis' but for some reason it does look real. I don't know if it's a very millennial thing to do, but I like talking about adulting and how it feels like a challenge most of the time, but also, as one by one those stories become true... I'm scared.

Inner circle getting smaller and smaller: Check.

Less and less knowledge of what's up-to-date: Check.

Feel the need to do some exercise due to body not getting enough work out: Check.

Attending weddings which invitations are not addressed to mom or dad: Check.

Witnessing friends building a family: Check.

Paying bills and taxes: Check.

I could go on, but the list will bore you to death, so, here's what I wanna tell my 24-year-old self:

You're not Kylie Jenner. You're not 19 years old and have the whole teenage population of the world watching your every move and every breath you take on Snapchat. In fact, nobody actually gives a shit about you. The ones who do, they actually want to do it, so help me God, please, give a shit about them. You are important, yes. But you're not the most important person. Cherish every person who cares and loves and gives a shit about you. Every person who hold space for you. Every person who, even though they don't treat you the way you wish they do, actually only have the best of interest for you. You know they are there in your life. Not by a lot, but they are there. Give them some credit. Love them, care for and about them. Stop thinking like they will regret it. They won't. They want to be here. You didn't push them for it. You probably didn't even invite them. Can't you see how lucky you are? 

Oh, and please... stop being a baby. 

A Strange Impulse

But, why?

Something Just Like This

Why is it that we could very easily forget the very thing that we wanted the most?

I used to wonder why people need to be constantly reminded to follow their dreams; to never let go of them, to continue pursue them, and never, ever, give up. I used to think that if someone is no longer pursuing their dreams, it probably means that they simply don't want it anymore; they probably want something more, bigger, or just something different. But, I was young. Boy, was I young.

The truth is, I lose sight of my own dreams very easily. I didn't give them up--not necessarily--but I just... settled. When I found my life to be acceptable, I wouldn't hesitate to agree to settle. But it wasn't my dream. I do have my dreams. It's buried somewhere between my acceptance of the things I have and the things I would be okay if I will never get.

The truth is, the world can make you a better offer. If you don't accept it--if you choose to be happy with the ones you have already accepted, you will never be able to go far enough to reach closer to your dreams. You have to make way for nice new things to come into your life and challenge you, motivate and raise you up. You are only as good as the choices you make--so choose wisely.

Burnt Candles

So, how's the first 3 days of 2017 been serving you?

It's too early to tell, but perhaps it's the right time to start projecting your hopes and fears and dreams for the year.

I was on the cab back home this evening when I stumbled upon this post by TIME Magazine, and, within the relatively short 10 minutes of me reaching my destination, I almost cried.

This article gets me.

Other people don't.

I myself don't.

Apparently, science does.

For a good part of 2016, I spent my days smiling because someone thought I was doing awesome, when really, (because I hate myself) I was just doing what I thought was the way it's supposed to be. But later on, a couple of months nearing 2017, I found myself losing sleep because my brain just won't shut up. My body, on the other hand, can feel that it no longer has the energy. I've drained myself out of any life during the day that, at night, when I'm alone in the darkness of my room, I should've just fallen asleep. But instead, I was wide awake; trying so hard to fool myself to fall asleep that, when I do, it probably would've been well past midnight.

Come 2017, I want to be more grateful for what I am. I want to learn to accept myself and see it the way other people see me. I want to know that I'm strong enough for everything that comes my way. I want to know that I can always get better, and a smooth sea never make a skilled sailor. Maybe then, that post wouldn't kick my right to my gut the way it did today.

Maybe.

I hope so.