The year is coming to its very end and I still have no idea what my resolution is (although the people
around me have been posting and talking about it like they know how to keep track of their lives).
I'm pretty sure that this year has been hectic, with a lot of unnecessary dramas and tantrums here and
there, such as shattering the poor hearts of kindhearted people or terrorizing those horrible ones just
because I want them to stop being so close-minded about things. Anyways. I met completely new
people and befriended them as soon as we clicked, but I've let go of the ones I've hung onto for so, so
long simply because we no longer found chemistry in each other and that our point-of-views have
drastically changed. I wished them all the best even though I don't know if they did the same to me or
not, but that's alright. This year was never about nailing my position on top of the food chain because I
was already flailing and it was a lot harder to pull myself up and gather some sort of vicious guts to start
from the bottom all over again. This is obviously not the end of the story; 2015 will be a lot more harder
and a lot more torturous than this. I know that I've been crashing into this party uninvited and there
are tons of them who are willing to kick my ass off this precious floor, but I won't give in to their
violence. Especially not when I made a promise to myself that I will repay all the mistakes I did this
year with better deeds. After all, the nights are still young and I still got plenty of stars in my pocket to
help me gallop away from this year's misery. Here I am, silently thanking those who are still willing to
walk down this narrow path with this tattered me. I'm thankful for everything that has happened this
year, no matter if they were heavenly or agonizing. See you in the drift!



I went through several
Instagrams belonging to my
friends, and their hundreds
of photo collections fascinated
me. Some of them were
jumping by the beach,
some of them were chilling
out at certain cafes,
some of them were
abroad to study as exchange
students, some of them
were rehearsing for their
next plays, and some of
them were just being
couch potatoes at home,
posing photos with their
lunch meals or their bowls
of decorated ice-creams.
They are all bright people
with positive minds and
productive timelines. Unlike
me, they have interesting
lives and they are nothing
more than just being happy;
as if nothing in the
world can stop them from
being joyous, from being
cheerful, and just being
downright themselves.
I look at their photos
once again, and even if I
am not as happy as them,
I am happy to see
them live happier lives than me.


It's been a while since a grand responsibility is handed over to me. Today's progressive meeting about
our major's very-first national competition for schools all over the nation gave me a serious insight of
how to become part of a job. I glanced at myself from five years ago, who used to shamelessly
underestimate event organizers. I used to think that organizing an event is as easy as picking out clothes
or setting up a dinner table because I was never involved in the organizing process. Being part of the
organizers is definitely not an easy task as I used to believe before, and the intensive debate we threw at
each other tonight sent me chills; the kind of chills which excite me and set me on a certain overdrive.
To be able to directly share ideas and question ambiguous suggestions in the midst of a round table was
quite an experience, and this is obviously new since the context is college students (aka those people
you should never mess with). The discussion rounds make me want to strive harder for a good position
as an acceptable member of this newfound circle. I'm starting to not care if I'm flunking my grades little
by little because of this national event we're trying to organize; I only live once, and it's not everyday I
can get a free pass to pour out my sudden passion towards something as new as this.


And today, I learnt a lot of things. To unintentionally throw away someone who gave me everything
I've always asked for was the worst mistake I have ever done in my twenty years of living. It took me a
couple of years secretly trying to find out how to repay all of the goods deeds that person did for my
well-being, so I eventually vowed that, no matter how many exes I have, I will always support them in
whatever things they want to do. That is exactly what I did today, and when I shamelessly told that
person that I really did gave him my ultimate support, my heart couldn't help but to skip a beat as he
gave me this twinkling look, the obvious "thank you" words left unsaid but whispered through the
breeze. And today, I also expressed a lot of things. It's been an entire decade since I hold an
underground passion for this beautiful skill called writing, and I've been trying to find out ways of how
to make them seem as enjoyable as it is for me towards others. Who said that writing is a boring skill? If 
you cannot find ways of expressing yourself verbally, then how else are you going to express yourself
without writing? Everything I expressed today said it all; this is me, this is what I love to do, I don't care
if some of them would think of being obsessed with writing is cringe-worthy. Nobody can change me.
And today, I even admitted a lot of things. I've waited for two years, three years now, to be able to have
some guts and look at this new person into the eye, just like the obvious strangers we are. But when it
was obvious that we've been stealing constant glances at each other, I just knew that what we have here
is probably just an infatuation. Or maybe it is infatuation. I'd be blessed if it really is something more
than just infatuation, just like how I wished for it to be, but what we have right now is already enough
for me right now. 2014 will come to an end in about two weeks, and I somehow swore that I must be
brave and that I must lit up a spark between us before 2015 falls into our footsteps. I am ready to close
the book I am currently writing, and I am ready to write on a brand-new one. It's about time for me to
proceed with life, grow up, and simply meet someone outrageously new in order to lead me in this life.


Today, I mistook the
word "moth" for "mosque"
and my classmate
bricked my head
for good because he
knew that, as the days
pass by, my brain is
beginning to deteriorate.
I did not even let
him comment on how
forgetful I have been
because I know it
myself. The rest of my
friends try to confirm
my sanity by fishing
my cheerful personality
back, but I felt numb.
A couple of
them gave me a carton
of my favourite French Vanilla
iced coffee in order
to lift me up once again.
I quietly realise that
I've been drowning in
my thoughts too
deep, so when
my senior gave my
shoulder a pat and
a hug that can rival
all sorts of warmth
in the world, I just know
that I am not
alone and that better
days are probably about to
be served on a china
plate just for me.


Everyone agrees that he is a
lunatic; the living epitome of
losing one's mind. He would
crawl on the cold tiles
submissively, wild midnight hair
sprawled in all sorts of directions,
blank eyes bloodshot and
blinking every second, eyelids strewn in
crimson and kohl. His
tanned skin was caressed
by torn jeans and an
even tattered straitjacket, an
alias to his seemingly unstable
sanity. But they were his
props to express his feelings of
being trapped in a
kaleidoscopic confusion; he wants
to be free from the
overdosing amount of possession
he is strained with, but he is
simultaneously addicted to the
feeling of being severely loved,
everyday craving for
more affinity while struggling
to tear the malicious
hunger apart. He is addicted,
addicted, addicted. He wants
to stop but he'll suffocate
if he does. Like the living
Le Sacre Du Printemps he
is, he flung his straitjacket
around his torso once
again before he passionately
pirouettes a call
for a doctor.


Laugh as if
you are the merriest
creature in
this universe.
Laugh as if
you have lost
your mind and
won't bother to
look for it.
Laugh as if something
hilarious is definitely
making your day.
Laugh as if you've
never been a victim
of the world's
sadistic deeds.
Laugh as if you've
never done anything
wrong in the past.
Laugh as if
you are shameless
and you want
others to look at
you laughing so that
they will laugh
along with you.
Laugh as if it
is the only thing
you can ever do.
Laugh as if
your entire life
depends on it.
Laugh as if you
are the only happy
virus who can
even make the
clouds up in the
sky laugh.
Laugh, simply.


Sometimes, it's
awesome to
be reckless.
Doing things as if
you're the
only one existing
in this big
bad world
with no one to
judge whoever
or whatever the
heck you are.
Being yourself
without having to
be frowned
upon as you
learn to
sharpen that one
unique character of
yours. Becoming
someone you've
always dreamt of
being like the
skies are only
a doorstep
away from your
grasp. However,
the big
bad world does not
run that way.
So, either you have
to abide
by the rules or
plummet down
in your fantasy.


I'm Your Girl


My fingers are
unstoppable; they
write, write, write
and soon
type, type, type.
My mind is also
unstoppable; the
wheels and gears
in my head
are on fire and
they keep on
accelerating faster
and faster with
rigorous statements
which are about
to pour out
immediately. There's
only one hope I
can see right behind
my eyelids, only
one way through the
last chance I tightly
clench in my grasp:
"prove them."
I'll tell the world that
I really love
what I am doing
and I must
show them that
this is what keeps me
alive, that this is
what keeps my focus
intact, that this is
what builds my character.
Because no matter
how many times others
would tell me
to stop this
unnecessary passion,
I'd still huff in
dissatisfaction, and still
come back to this exact
same spot and
still continue to
be immersed in
either writing
or typing again.



You can never have too many friends, they'd say.
But I am the kind who never goes out of the
comfort zone to challenge a new environment,
so I look at the handful of the people I am
immensely familiar with, and gaze. We were
innocent and unknowing of what is bound
to happen to us once we connect and never
break away. There were happy moments where
everything was about pointless laughter and
crinkled twinkling eyes, vibes so upbeat
and alive. There were depressing days where
we'd argue and quarrel to the point of ignoring
each other or even talking behind backs.
By the end of the day, we'd all reconcile
with unsaid words of "sorry" hanging in the
air on purpose for we know that the more
rocky our roads are, the more we are able
to comprehend each other and become much
closer than ever. When I look at them
again today, I can't help but to just smile
at them until they'd ask me whether I'm
spacing out again because I've been doing
that alone, swimming in my own thoughts, whilst
they've been busy whining over the piling
assignments laid out on our base-camp table. I want to
walk a long path with them where we can
be together for a lifetime. It really doesn't
matter if my number of companions are not
as plenty as others for I don't really do a whole load
of social media, but if they're still able to live
life with the exact same smiles they are
donning right now, then I'm satisfied. For the
first time in a while, I am thanking them for
being this beautiful thing called "friends", and
I truly wish them very blessed lives ahead.


Good morning, gorgeous.
It's only an hour until noon
basks in through the
hazy windows, though.
What are you doing in those
oversized white cotton jumper
and loose gray pajama
pants? Gosh, look at
those luscious coffee locks
sprawled all over the floor.
Are you tired, baby?
Why are you flashing me
that cherubic sunshine smile?
You must have slept
well last night, haven't you?
Hey, you are not supposed
to roll on the floor; the tiles
are absolutely cold and I don't
want your injured waist to be
flexed forcefully by the
flat surface. But you are being
extraordinarily radiant right
now, so maybe I'll halt the
playful scolding. Oh, why
are you hiding behind the
thin sheets of satin curtain,
now? Does the random act
amuse you? It sure does,
listening at how a chuckle
echoed around the
insipid walls. Come here,
sweetheart. I want to try and
see through the curtain like
what you did, too.
You want to cuddle the day off
on the floor with me?
Sure, my love.


He came in crashing
with bulging eyes and a
gaping mouth, and
she was frozen on
the spot, wondering
how the hell did such
beautiful creature
fall into her steps.
She thought she
never deserves him and the
escapades from his shadows
were too frequent
because he wanted
to catch up with
her; he needed her
like a fresh splash
of colour to fulfill
his bland canvas.
How could someone
be so unique and
so original?
The monomania was
too irresistible, so he'd
hop onto the clouds
and hitchhike a
Pegasus to grant
her dreams.
He never minded her
oblivious self,
so long as the
sunshine grin she
has will never fade.
So long as
she returns the favour
with her heart
in his hands.


Why are you so
wonderful, I wonder?
You'd be there,
flying out of your
four-wheel drive
suavely, that classic
black Givenchy backpack
forever attached
to your either
shoulders. I'd love
the way sunshine
would glow on the
crown of your fluffed
coffee hair to
accentuate some
sort of halo,
though you're no angel
and everyone
knows that. Time would
be guiding you
towards the path
of your dreams,
and I'd be left
gawking at how smooth
your destiny comes.
One day, I'd give
my entire everything
for you to
rub off some of your
cool to me so
that I'll be able
to grow as radiant as
you; or maybe even become
a part of you.


You are not flabby.
What caused
you to think of
yourself like that?
Be glad that
you don't, at
least, look malnourished,
and that you
look healthy with just
the right amount of
slim. I like the way
your fingers have
very strong holds or
the way your veins
would jut out when
you flex them. They're
not stubby and short,
shut up.
You need to
stop that shoulder-patting
habit of yours. Don't
let anyone shove
nonsense about your
seemingly-narrow shoulders
because they are
not; they compliment
your petit figure
just fine. You
may have a baby-like
face which endlessly gets
teased, but you
do know that your
mindset is the
maturest of them
all, don't you?
The amount of
determination you contain
would pour out of
you, as if you'd be
chained if you
don't let it show,
and I love that; it
makes your doe
eyes sparkle and
it energizes your
body like showers of
fairy dust.
No, you need to
stop being so conscious
about your arms
and legs. If
anything, they are
much longer and slimmer
than mine. And if
you're gonna rant
about your height, then
you need to keep mine
in mind for
you are very much a
head taller than
me. You're just right;
you got the perfect
proportions of
everything, and if
this is not convincing
enough for you,
then I'll say all of
this to you again
and again until you
realise how much of a
stunning being
you are and until you
can remember every
single words
by heart.



A whole array of
cupcakes were sold
for a voluntary project,
and each of them
were decorated prettily.
One of them, though,
was a little too petite
and a little too
Your cupcake was
a dark one with no
sugar or fruits slipped
in between to
emphasize your sultry
melting chocolate voice.
The aqua
sprinkles and the glittering
vanilla frosting
reflected your calm facade
which contrasted your
radiant determination and passion.
Since it was the smallest
and the purest
cupcake in the display,
it stood out ironically.
Tons of people would
admire its simplicity for
very long minutes; they'd
praise it, and some of
them were even dying to
buy it from me, but I
told them that they
couldn't have it, let alone
buy it. I told them
that it was mine,
and mine alone. The
beautiful little innocent cupcake
which stood out
on the display
is mine.


Red Light



Take out your
baskets, fill them
up with salami sandwiches
and chopped fruits,
don't forget to
bring an oversized
tatami mat or two
with matching
blankets and umbrellas,
keep your shades
and joy intact
because we're all gonna
go on a
ride and throw all of
the anvils on your
shoulders behind.
Let the kind
sunshine kiss away
those furrowing eyebrows
and the obvious
scowl on your faces,
with the erratic breeze
clearing out all
of the jabbing thoughts
in your mind. Put your
chin up and look!
Look at the vast
expanse of clean blue
in the sky and smile,
smile as if it makes
you soar back to life,
smile as if
nothing can stop you
from everything 
you dream of;
breathe the day 
in, and get wasted.


A food court is definitely not
an ideal place to look for
inspirations, not when your cousin
pesters you to please savour
the damn aging chicken sandwich.
Your fingers cling onto the
ink pen tight, stammering
and itching for some sort of
desperate contact with any
scribble-worthy surfaces.
You think of writing about the
fluffy furball of a kitten you
cooed at by the curb. You think
of writing about the 
gorgeous boy who smiles a
smile which is obviously meant
for your throbbing little heart.
You think of writing about your
friend's outrage towards her
brother who stole her
headphones after she accidentally
stepped on his.
Like a revelation which
descended upon your clouds,
the fact that you are
on a quest to find out
about yourself hits you hard;
so hard until you were
sent gasping for air in absolute
realisation. People turn to
give you funny looks, and your
cousin hisses at your antics.
But you grin instead because the
perspiring watermelon smoothie 
seduces you, and you know
what to write about now.

Strange Fits Of Passion Have I Known

Strange fits of passion have I known:
And I will dare to tell,
But in the Lover's ear alone,
What once to me befell.

When she I loved looked every day
Fresh as a rose in June,
I to her cottage bent my way,
Beneath an evening-moon.

Upon the moon I fixed my eye,
All over the wide lea;
With quickening pace my horse drew nigh
Those paths so dear to me.

And now we reached the orchard-plot;
and as we climbed the hill,
The sinking moon to Lucy's cot
Came near, and nearer still.

In one of those sweet dreams I slept,
Kind Nature's gentlest boon!
and all the while my eyes I kept
On the descending moon.

My horses moved on; hoof after hoof
He raised, and never stopped:
When down behind the cottage roof,
At once, the bright moon dropped.

What fond and wayward thoughts will slide
Into a Lover's head!
'O mercy!' to myself I cried,
'If Lucy should be dead!'

You are tired, (I think)

You are tired,
(I think)
Of the always puzzle of living and doing;
And so am I.

Come with me, then,
And we'll leave it far and far away—
(Only you and I, understand!)

You have played,
(I think)
And broke the toys you were fondest of,
And are a little tired now;
Tired of things that break, and—
Just tired.
So am I.

But I come with a dream in my eyes tonight,
And knock with a rose at the hopeless gate of your heart—
Open to me!
For I will show you the places Nobody knows,
And, if you like,
The perfect places of Sleep.

Ah, come with me!
I'll blow you that wonderful bubble, the moon,
That floats forever and a day;
I'll sing you the jacinth song
Of the probable stars;
I will attempt the unstartled steppes of dream,
Until I find the Only Flower,
Which shall keep (I think) your little heart
While the moon comes out of the sea.