I went out drinking with co-workers.
There were only 3 of us, one Ukrainian guy, and one Canadian girl.

Now, the occasion was ordinary.
It was just an usual out-of-work drinking that I usually do.
Drinking with co-workers is always fun, I get to know some work gossips and get to build some good relationship with my co-workers.
Yet, this one was kind of different.
It actually made me open up my eyes, and allow me to see everything in different perspective, especially on things about my own self.


Three of us went to a bar.
It was early evening, around 7 or 8 P.M.
We quickly ordered some drinks, and began to talk about things.
We talked about work gossips, about funny things, about some arguments.
It was pretty much a typical drinking talks that you could imagine.
But, that night, there were different things happened.
Or maybe, I should say, different conversations.

As the night goes on, the drinks got us; we weren’t drunk, but it was the point where we started to be honest to each other.
And they were mocking each other, and the guy was mocking me something that I can’t quite remember, but the point is, he said something at me.
And I replied nothing, I was just smiling at him.

“You pretty much don’t say anything when I shot at you.”
“Don’t just sit there, say something?”

“Why should I ?”

“Why shouldn’t you?”
“Look, I noticed something about you: you don’t really reply anything back to people when they say something to you. The question is: why?”
“And there’s another thing: you pretty much don’t bring anything new to the table when you are talking to someone.”
“You, my friend, have a bad habit of mimicking someone.”
“Not every single time, but it’s like this: When you are faced with someone that is more intimidating, seems like you tend to really trying to do something to that someone. You are trying to please them.”
“It’s like this, we’ve been talking since minutes ago, and you’ve been saying nothing– all you’ve been doing is just repeating almost the same thing that any of us said. And I don’t know why.”
“But I think, it’s because you have a weak personality.”

“It’s not necessarily because he has a weak personality.”
“Maybe it’s true that both of us have a stronger personality than you, but I really don’t think so. I saw that when we were talking in the office, you’re good, and you’re capable of formulating your opinion perfectly.
“Maybe you’re just intimidated, I understand. Not to mention that he is the head of certain teams in the office. But you need to learn not to do that. Like he said, you might want to impress someone, but it won’t work with us. Arguably, it could only work with people that have lower intelligence than us here.”
“But it won’t work with us. If you do that, you will present yourself as a person with weak personality, or worse, someone with no fucking personality.”

“All you’ve been doing is just fading to the background, man.”

“Let me give you a question: what would you do if, let’s say, you have to present something to four of our top people in the office?”
“I don’t need to give you the names, but I think you know who they are.”

“What would you guys do?”

The girl answered first.

“I would do whatever it is that I need to do to ace the presentation.”
“But I would honestly try to keep my relationship with four of those people. Not necessarily means that I will try to please them all, no.” “Let’s say that one of them didn’t like my presentation, I will say to them: ‘sorry that I can’t meet your expectations, but I want to know why you don’t like it, I want to talk to you after this presentation. For now, let’s carry on.'”
“See that? I was being quite evasive, you could say. I tried to move the pointing out session about why he didn’t like my presentation outside the presentation session. I don’t want the others to be able to find out why.”

“Well, for me, I would say whatever it is that I want to say at that presentation. I don’t and I won’t care in whatever it is that they want to say. If they want to say something, then they better say it.”
“Because by then I will shot back at them with my own argument.”
“Now it doesn’t matter what you do. We already have our own thought that you will try to please every single one of them.”
“And I could see that you will fail.”

“All we’re saying is, show your color.”
“We don’t really care about who you are, really. We do think that you’re a good person, you’re a good friend. I don’t and I don’t think he cares about it.”
“Look, man, even if you’re quiet as hell, I would be able to trust you more and accept you more as a quiet person rather than being fake and mimicking people like this. Don’t do that.”
“Don’t waste your time trying to be someone else, or trying to please everyone, you won’t achieve anything with that shit.”

“Maybe you could say that we’re too harsh on you. But don’t get us wrong. This is a safe environment. Very safe. We are outside work. We are friends. We say these things right in front of you and not behind your back. You could say that this is a psychologically safe environment.”
“We are free to say anything and discuss anything here.”

We paused for a moment; it was already 2 A.M.
I called the waiter and ordered some more drinks.
I sipped my Old Fashioned cocktail, and muttered a word.


They slammed the table repeatedly and laughed out loud.
I guess they were drunk, or maybe they didn’t expect my response at all.

“Now this guy gets it!”
“I love conversations like these. Why don’t we drink to celebrate?”

“We’ve been drinking since 9 hours ago.”

“.. Right.”

Two hours after that, I was on my way back home.
I was thinking very hard on the things that they said to me.
It feels so ironic– I said to her again and again that if all she’s doing is just trying to make everyone around her happy, in the end, she will be the one that’s left with unhappiness.
Yet, I was doing the very same thing to myself.

I heard that people won’t understand and/or won’t even look at the wrong things that they’ve been doing since the dawn of time.
I guess that saying is just pretty much true.

But thanks to that, I now understand what I should do to myself.
I know how to grow myself even more, and be a better man than that day.
Yes, I have a pile of debts that need to be paid.

And the only way to pay those debts is just to sort them one by one, and understand why own faults and pitfalls, and fix them – again – one by one.


Dear Love,

I remember that you were afraid to drink alcohol at that time.
You said you were afraid because you don’t understand what will happen.
But, as you can see, with the right people, right things will happen.
Well, I have to say that I’m grateful that I have good co-workers.
And yet some people – those two people – around me said that I have shitty workplace filled with shitty people– in midlife crisis, one of them said.
With their acute cynicism and skepticism, I don’t have to wonder, though.

Like I said, people will only focus on the bad side of things and usually overlook the good things or take the good things for granted.

Sad, isn’t it? Everything is defined by what it doesn’t do.
We, are defined by what we don’t do– we build our integrity around it.
And we are always defined by what we don’t have.
Humans are stupid– yes, I’m human, and I’m stupid.

Love, after analyzing myself, let me tell you why I’ve been like this.
Honestly, I don’t think that I always try to please everyone.
But like I said, we are usually oblivious to what we subconsciously do.

It’s like this:

Imagine that I am right now being loved by 99% of people from my workplace– from every floor and every division available.
I don’t know if it’s true, but I honestly think it’s possible.
Anyway, suddenly, this week, I decided to just be myself and show off my personality– a social butterfly, a talkative bastard, a very quiet and reserved person, an extremely rude person, an asshole, whatever.
And, what will happen if, it turns out, from all of those 99% people, only 5% of them really like me and love me for who I am?
It turns out, only 5% of those people accept me as I am?

Let me honestly tell you what I think.
I don’t like being the center of attention, but I do like to have a good relationship with everyone, I want people to be nice to me.
And that is why I was thinking on what should I do or what would happen if in reality, only 5% of my co-workers like me for who I am.
I don’t want to be called an asshole.

I do want to please everyone.
I want to make everyone happy, yes, I fucking do, Love.
Here I am now, showing you another part of me– an honest one.
I’m showing you another piece of my hidden Legos.

Don’t cringe at me– I’m being so fucking honest here I don’t think I could say these things out loud in front of you if I were talking to you face to face over a bottle of beer right goddamn now.

I’m not proud of that fact, Love– I do NOT.
And I know that what I’ve been doing only lead me to disaster.
I’ve been trying to change it, but I just don’t know what to do because, like I said, I was oblivious to what I have inside of me.
Moreover, it’s a bad thing, maybe I was closing my eyes to that fact because I was ignoring it because I’m not satisfied with myself.
The more you know about yourself, eh?

And here I think that there are only few things about me that I don’t like left for me to change so I could be the best version that I could be.
I guess I was being overly naive.

Love, I don’t know if you have the same problem as me, but I think you do.
And, well, maybe no one ever points it at you, but I hope someone will. Wait, I just did it at that first sentence in this paragraph.
I don’t know if you’ve been ignoring it.
Or maybe you’re aware of it but you are keeping it hidden with that care-free facade that you put as a mask that you show to everyone.

You know what I honestly think? You need a person that will tell you everything that is bad about you and all.
Alright, whatever, you could look at me now and say:

“Why don’t you fucking do that?”

But I’ve been doing it, Love; I’ve been doing it since.
Yet all that you say to me whenever I point them out is:

“No.” or “Nope.”

I know that you were kidding, but all I was perceiving is that you were actually ignoring what I said and just took it for granted.
Yes, I could be overly serious at times, but I do hope that you won’t take what it is that I said to you for granted that those words goes through from your left ear to your right ear or vice versa.

Love, understand that I am your safe environment.

When all else seems so fake, stupid, and wrong, I’m here for you.
And I will always be real– I will be so real to you it almost feels like my words could pop out of your monitor, or maybe I could even jump in to your room at any given moment because of how honest I could be.
I will and always will say whatever it is that I find wrong with you right in front of you, and not gossiping things about it with other people.
Maybe I might look like an smartass, okay, I understand.
But, like I said, do realize that people – that includes you and me – will usually overlook their own mistakes and wrongs.
And, whenever someone say something to you about you, all that is left is just for you to filter it to determine whether it is true, or not.
Keep an open mind at all times, and you will be perfectly fine.

I might not mock you and all, and I might not say it as harsh as what my co-workers did, or maybe even harsher than what they said to me.
But all I’m doing for you, really is just for you.
I do NOT and I will NOT ever destroy someone that I love.

Remember that I’m here for you.

No matter what.








Yesterday, my co-workers were being noisy about MBTI types.

MBTI is a personality types that founded by someone.
It categorizes people into 16 different personalities based on 4 traits:
Introvert (I) and Extrovert (E),
Sensing (S) and Intuitive (N),
Thinking (T) and Feeling (F),
Judging (J) and Perspecting (P).
Just Google it, I’m too lazy to describe everything here.


I’m an INFP.
I’ve posted this before months ago, and it still hasn’t changed.
I’m an Engineer, and I work in a place where most people are strict Ts.
Which means they think more when it comes to making decisions and solving problems, and I, being a totally F person, would rely more on my feelings for those.
But even though I’m a F person, I still have my T traits.
Of course, no one in this world would make decisions solely based on their T or F.
Even Ts have Fs even if it’s only 1%, and vice versa.

Like I said, bunch of my co-workers were talking about that MBTI types.
They took the tests, and were bragging to each other about it.
When the crowd subdued, I talked to my another co-worker.
It was late, almost midnight, and there were only few people in the office.
And this one guy is always there, working late night at the office.
I talked a lot of things with this guy, well, if you read my previous posts, he was the one that woke up late and missed his early morning train, in which I came and rebuked him that he should took the next train if he really wanted to go.
I said to him that it was a test, a test if he really wanted to go.
And, well, he took my advice and took the next train.

He and I are somewhat different.
We both are Introverted, and both Intuitive.
But he’s a Thinking and Judging type, while I’m a Feeling and Perspecting type.
About this personality type stuffs, if there’s one thing that I want to know, is that I really want to know how a person with Thinking type functions.
I mean, I know that they are not a Feeling type, but that does not mean that they are heartless, aren’t they? They just don’t use their feelings that often.

From what I observe, most T types don’t handle their feelings that well.

I have this another co-worker, a girl with T type.
On one occasion, she told me that she broke up with her boyfriend at that time.
I asked her the reason why, and, well, the answer really didn’t make sense:

“I still love him, you know. But I don’t think he and I will be okay. He has a problem with his father, and he’s not working on that problem fast enough for me to be able to accept him as a life partner. No, I just can’t”

That, was fucked up for me.
Because that was somewhat ridiculous– at least for me.
After we know each other better, I figured out that she was a Feeling type person.
She got hurt so fucking bad in the past, she turned into a Thinking type person.
I didn’t believe that.
I mean, I do, but I don’t think that was the cause.
If she actually is being like that, then I think she’s a natural-born T type.

Another story with another co-worker.
When I first got my job, I met this one senior co-worker of mine.
He’s a generally critical and good guy, that manages several teams at once.
But there was something that I noticed when I was observing him:
He was being a generally grumpy guy that could explode at random times.
At first, I thought it was just because he was being himself.
I thought it was all his personality, but I was totally wrong.
One of his team members told me his story on why he was acting like that.
Turns out, he broke up with his girlfriend, and can’t stand the pressure.
He was frustrated, and, well, only he knows how it actually felt.

I could understand his frustration, I did understand him.
But, that doesn’t mean that he had to lash his anger towards people.

Back to the first co-worker that I mentioned.
We were having a conversation about the difference between T and F people.
I told him those stories, about how T people handle their events related to their feelings, and how they were managing it, from the frustration to the bitterness.
I told him that, it seems, all the T people aren’t really that good at managing their feelings, at how they cope up with the rush of feelings in their hearts.

“I don’t know why, but they, all of those T people, they are always like that.”
“They think too much and too logical to things related to their feelings, all the while knowing perfectly that it’s all about feelings and not about their minds.”
“They seem to be so… Afraid? To things that made their heart ache.”

“I think I know the answer.”

“And what would a completely ‘Feeling’ person would say about this?”

“Imagine that our feelings are one hell of a giant ocean.”
“Doesn’t matter if you are a T type or F type person, it’s still the same”
“At some point in our life, we decided to swim in our feelings, with different kinds of weather depends on the type of the feelings.”
“If you’re happy, it might be an afternoon sea with gentle sea breeze that you could leisurely swim in without any much trouble, and, well, it’s pleasant. Who doesn’t like the afternoon gentle sea breeze with a perfect sunny weather?”
“Another, if you’re sad, it might look like it’s about to rain: violent wind, rough waves, you name it. You could still swim in it but sometimes, the waves will splash on your face, the seawater will get into your mouth and nose and eyes, and you’ll be left with curses coming out of your mouth.”
“That’s what feeling is. An ocean.”

“And what about those two of our co-workers?”
“What about them and their experiences? How would you explain what happened to that girl and her bitterness? And what about that guy and his frustration?”

I paused for a moment and looked outside the window.
I was remembering myself and how I cope up with what happened to me and her.

“They are different. They are people that can’t stand the tsunami, or the maelstrom that came in their ocean at times.”
“Imagine that girl, that particular co-worker of us, let’s say he faced a very difficult thing that stirred her feelings, let’s say, at that time, a maelstrom came to her ocean, and she was so terrified about it.”
“And she drowned– she lost her consciousness.”
“When she woke up, she was stranded on her own beach, she was safe, but the memory, the memory of what happened to her have been haunting her ever since.”
“She’s now afraid of the ocean, well, she might not be completely afraid, she might be swimming at times, at sunny day and even cloudy day.”
“But not on a rainy or even stormy days.”
“At those days, she will take hundreds of steps back away from the beach, back to her safe haven, and she will not dare herself to swim at the ocean anymore. No, she won’t even dare to swim into the depth of her own feelings anymore.”
“Even if, let’s say, someone is willing to teach her to swim and handle the current, to handle the maelstrom or the whirlpool in her ocean, she will still say no to that, because she already understands how it feels like to drown.”
“It was a traumatic event that brought her to her bitterness.”

“And about him? How would you explain the frustration of that guy?”

“He was.. Still swimming in the ocean.”
“He was left at the depth of his ocean by the woman that he loved, and, well, he was still drowning and trying to make his way up to the surface slowly.”
“Or maybe he wasn’t even drowning at all, but he was struggling to face the violent waves in the middle of the ocean alone, he wasn’t ready to be left by the woman that he loved, for they were swimming together once: in that woman’s ocean, he was swimming in her ocean, and in his ocean, the woman was swimming in his.”
“Only, for that woman, he was already swimming towards the beach.”
“Imagine the frustration, the feeling of being left in the middle of the ocean alone, after someone promised you hundreds or even thousands of time that they will never leave you no matter what happens to you.”
“Imagine being so helpless in the middle of a storm in the middle of the sea.”

“And that’s why he was lashing it out on the people around him. I get it.”
“That’s so sad, isn’t it? About how afraid people are to their own feelings that they actually changed their personality into something more logical.”
“I believe that, logical things, for them, are depicted as a more ‘safer’ things.”

“I’m sorry, but I’m the better swimmer here between us.”
“While you guys, Thinking personality people are afraid with the current, I’m still going strong, and fighting up the violent tides all by myself.”
“I’m not going to be someone that is – putting it up to the extreme – afraid to even dip their toes into the water, to the point where they are even afraid to swim in their own feelings because of what happened to them in the past.”

Well, while in reality I can’t really swim, I’m a master swimmer in my own ocean.
Ocean of feelings, with cloudy weather and violent waves almost all the time.
Drowning was painful, I could say that.
The feeling of the saltwater getting into your lungs, while your body is being thrown here and there by the waves was not a very pleasant experience.
If any, I was dragged down to the bottom of the ocean by the maelstrom.
Yes, I survived, but it scarred me– it broke my heart to billions of pieces.

But still, I’m going to say this again: I’m a master swimmer in my own ocean.

Unlike that guy that constantly lashed his anger out to people around him, I was being quiet, I slowly pour out my feelings into the paper, it was like I was grasping for air slowly, but surely.
Unlike that girl that turned bitter because of what happened to her in her past, and it turned her into a Thinking type of a person that is afraid to swim in rough weather, I would and would always dare myself to swim in every weather available.
No, I won’t afraid, and I won’t give up about it.


Dear Love,

I know that you’re a good swimmer.
You told me once that you’re a good swimmer, and I believe you, someone even told me that you’re a very good swimmer that could do even a difficult swimming stroke.
That person even told me that you could swim using butterfly stroke.
I was like, what the hell? With that little body of yours? Butterfly stroke?
It sounded so unlikely– no, it sounded so, so impossible that you could do it.
But I believe that, oh I do.
Because I know that it wasn’t the first time I was surprised about the things that I haven’t known about you– things that, at first, I was skeptical, but turned out to be so awesome– all the things that you could do in that little body of yours.

Yes, I know that you kind of hate it when I say little, but I honestly don’t care.

Like I said, even though I can’t swim in reality, I’m a very good swimmer in my ocean of feelings.
Yes, I am going to brag about it and rub it straight on your face, and I am sorry about that, but I am going to write it, and I’m going to describe it well.
Think of it as me ranting about how envious I am to our swimming skills– about the fact that I only could do a rock-y swimming stroke compared to yours.
Yes, I know I should learn how to swim, but no, I don’t know when.

But, Love, I’m a better swimmer in my own ocean– at least I think I am.
After a series of things that happened to me, I still dare myself to swim in a bad weather, in the middle of the ocean of feelings, with the violent waves and wind and maelstroms trying to put me down to the bottom of the ocean.
Arguably, maybe you could say it’s because I know that they won’t break me more than what I already am– because I am already broken from what happened to us.
But that’s not the case, no.

I only know that, to actually understand how my ocean is like– to completely understand how ocean of feeling is like, I have to swim in it, and I have to dare myself to plunge in it in every weather or condition possible.
And I know that with you in it, it feels like I could face every weather, or even anything– anything that would try to drown me or even destroy me.

All I know that, when you are with me, I’m not afraid of anything.

I know that you might become like that co-worker of mine, who is afraid of dipping her toes into a deeper water a little bit closer to the middle of the ocean.
Especially when it’s cloudy and looking like it’s start to rain.
But, Love, you could just jump in, and I promise I’ll hold your hand.
Trust me, and trust me completely.
I know that people could say whatever it is that they want to say, but you know me and you’ve known me for years– you understand what I would do to my promises.
That I always keep them– I always keep my promises no matter what.

And all you will do is just trust yourself to me, know that I won’t let you drown.

And well, in return, just teach me how to swim in reality.
You could declare me as a graduate later when I could do the butterfly stroke.








I had a discussion with co-workers last night.

There were 4 of us: Me, Sam, and another two co-workers.
If you don’t understand who the hell Sam is, read the previous post.
Anyway, we were talking about love and girls.
It was a cliche and a very ordinary topic, I understand– we understood.
But it really had to be our topic, Sam was and still having problems with that so-called girl, one guy is married, and the other guy was just being a complete theoretical person that seems to know everything about relationship even though he (ironically) never been in one.
And me? Well, you lot know about me and my story.

We laughed, we mocked each other, and we talked.
We took turns in talking about each other.
We talked about Sam and his girl, about his problems, where we actually said that he should just say to the girl if he’s having height problems.
I mean, he got nothing to lose, if that’s going to be a problem for the girl, then there’s nothing Sam can’t do about it.
But he can’t just spend his whole life being oblivious about it without knowing the truth on how the girl really feels about it.
Looking at Sam, now I know why Oscar Wilde said that ‘truth is rarely pure and never simple’– it really is true for me now.

We talked about the married guy, he’s only 28, but he’s happily married and currently happily being a workaholic along with me and the others.
Like me, he gave Sam some advice about how he should do things.
And well, all he did was just being witty almost all the time.
The another guy, the last one, was just being a theoretical person.
Because it was as if he understand things about relationship and gave advices, but in reality, he just never been in a relationship.
And worse, he just never want to make a move to girls that he likes.
I called bullshit for his advices, it’s not that I did not respect him– I do, I just thought that what he said wasn’t make any sense.

And it was my turn– all their eyes were on me, then came the question:

“So, what’s your story? Tell us yours.”
“You seem like you got a lot of experience, that you got a lot of wisdom, that you got a lot of social skill and information, and I know that we look at you and be assured that you have the right mind, or at least look like one, because it seems like you read a lot and have a good judgment.”
“But you haven’t told us anything– you never did.”

I scoffed, and smiled to them.
All the while, in that few seconds, I was thinking on what I really should say to them because I don’t know what should I talk about.
I then decided to say something that’s completely related to me, but I didn’t want to say things about me too much.

“I don’t have any story to tell.”
“I do have my own past, and it’s not all rainbows, fairy-tales or even filled with butterflies flying around inside my life.”
“About social skill, I don’t see myself as an accomplished man in that area– I’m still terribly awkward sometimes and I’m not even sure if I have a very good judgment regarding things.”
“So, well I can’t really say anything.”

“That’s bullshit, impossible. You just don’t want to tell us anything.”
“Okay, maybe with a more detailed and more specific question.”
“Do you actually have girlfriend?”

I shrugged and smiled.

“Do you have someone that you love?”

I scoffed and nodded.

“Then why you never actually say anything about her?”
“People would usually go around and tell the story to another people. I mean, you must have someone that you will go to and tell your story to, right? Seems like every single person in this world does!”
“So why don’t you tell us about her? Well, at least it will actually help yourself in assuring how much do you love her.”
“Whether you really love her, or not.”

I pulled a chair and sat down.
I paused for a moment, looked at them, and said to them:

“There’s a difference between privacy and secrecy.”
“I’m not keeping it a secret that I love someone, I will say it to every single one that ask the question about whether I love someone or not.”
“But there’s privacy, there’s an utmost privacy on how I manage that love.”
“Because love isn’t about continuously declaring it to people, or even outdoing yourself in order to prove just how much someone means to you.”
“For me right now, loving out loud is just so overrated. Especially when I find the greatest gestures of love can be so small, that they are usually taken for granted, for they are easily overlooked.”
“I might not show it, I might not tell it to you guys or to anyone, but it’s the action that matters. I’ll have you know that I always and will always put that single person before myself.”
“And I believe, that kind of action is where true love resides.”
“No matter how big or small the sacrifice that I will make to that certain person, I will always make the very same choice: that in my eyes– that in my heart, she will always come first.”

They laughed and slapped me in the shoulder and said that I was cheesy.
I was being the cheesiest man they have ever head in their whole life.
I smiled and laughed and said to them that what I said was true.
Well, what I wrote was not as lengthy as what I said at that time.
But those were the points from what I said that very night.
Maybe I was being cheesy, maybe, but I just don’t really care if I was.

At least I was being honest and I said what I really feel.


Dear Love,

I’ve said it numerous times– I don’t need to declare my love for you.
At least not for now, not this time, not in front of those people.
I don’t need to tell them that I am going to love you in your weakest moments– and that I am going to love you in your strongest.
That I am going to love you when you’re happy and I am going to still love you the most when you’re sad.
Maybe they don’t understand, but I want to love you, each and every piece of you– with your imperfections as much as I want you for you.

I want to remove the illusion of time from those people and your heart– I want them and I want you to completely understand, that my love can’t be measured by watch or calendar.

I want to run my fingers through the hairs– and through your soul, just so I could understand how you might be feeling.
I want to clean the gorgeous mess you and the people around you created when they destroyed you and put you in your hiding.
I want to turn your pain into poetry, and perform it to your fears, so they could find faith in the future.
I want to listen to the lyrics in your silence, for they confess what’s on your mind, things that people wouldn’t want to listen closely from you.

Love, I might be in bits and pieces, but I still love you in thousands– even millions– or even billions of ways that you could imagine.








Let me tell you a story about my co-worker named Sam.

Sam is a miserable wretch– or so he thought.
He likes to work more than 12 hours a day.
Even on weekend, Sam continues to work, and work, and work.
In short, Sam’s work ethics is pretty much like mine.
The only difference is, I never see him enjoying his work.
If, let’s say, we both are robots, then he never turn himself off.
At least I got to hibernate myself– but not him.

A week ago, I saw him constantly smiling and making small laughs for hours.
It was around 23:00, it was late, and there were only few people at the office.
Some people that knew him, including me, started to wonder what happened.
I mean, we never saw him that happy while working that late before.
He always made this emotionless, robotic face while working.
One of us stalked him by standing beside him quietly and looked at his screen.

Turns out, Sam was constantly chatting to someone while working.

Almost all of us instantly stood up and went to him.
I said almost, because I was still on my seat– I wasn’t interested in knowing.
I mean, okay, whatever, I don’t care about him and his romantic stories.
Those people that went to him bombarded him with questions about the girl.
Who is she, how did he know her, those kind of crappy questions.
Sam knew the girl from one of his friends, and he liked her instantly.
I scoffed, fully understood that indeed a girl could make a man happy and all.
Well, that night, Sam spent his whole working session with smiles in his face.

Three days after, Sam was still being the same strangely happy man.
He was still making smiles and small laughs while working around the same hour.
Again, one of my co-workers stood up behind him and looked at his screen.
But Sam wasn’t texting the girl, he was actually making a call with her.
I, of course, didn’t notice, and most of us were putting our earphones on.
At that time, looking at Sam feels like looking at myself more than a year ago.

And Sam made me realize something that is somewhat unimportant.
That it’s been more than a year since I was genuinely happy because of her.

It’s been that long? God.


Fast-forward to two days ago.
I was working late night as usual, it was pretty much just another Friday night.
Most of my co-workers were gone, well, it was Friday night anyway.
But not Sam.
I took off my earphones, walked to him and sit beside him, and talked to him.
I started questioning things about the girl and about why he was working.
I mean, they should have been outside, hanging out, or whatever.
Sam stared at me without any expression, and closed his laptop lid.
He then made a sigh and started to tell his story.

Sam didn’t actually met the girl before the first time he was texting her.
He knew the girl from his friend, but only through messages.
And few days after he called her, they met each other.
Sam described the girl as a smart girl and with a sense of humor.
He continued to say that the girl was amazing, they were a match and shits.
In short, he was readying himself to get to know her better.
Sam was thrilled by the idea of spending his whole life with the girl.

And here comes the but:
But there was one thing– the only thing that he just can’t accept from her:

The girl was taller than him for about like, 15 cm, or 6 in.

I literally cringed.
Well, I have to admit, Sam is relatively short for a guy.
He’s only like, 161 cm, or 5’3, and he’s way shorter than me and all.
The very reason I cringed was because what he said didn’t make any sense.
I mean, it did make some sense, but, with all the reason that he could came up with, all the reason in this goddamn world that could justify his actions to stay away from the girl: money, looks, social status, religion; he chose height? Really?
Sam continued to say that he was totally embarrassed to walk beside the girl.
Well, fair enough, I could imagine the scene him walking with the girl.
And I could arguably say it would look funny for some people– not for me, though.

I told him that it shouldn’t matter that much.
Okay, height is more than just a number for some girls, I understand.
And I understand that it’s way more sensitive for guys, like, usually, girls would be so self-conscious of themselves about their weight and all.
He said it was okay and all for me, because it does not exist in my reality.
That it would be easy for me because, somewhat for him, he said, I’m a tall, hard-working, successful, good-looking chap that could get any girl that I want.
Honestly, the way he said all of those things was fucking annoying.
Yes, I know that he was mocking me and all because I rebuked him about the height.

I continued by saying that it’s not yet exist in my reality.
Maybe it would, maybe I would face a girl that’s way taller than me.
Although I wouldn’t dare to entertain my mind with the ideas of loving a girl that is way taller than me, because that thing is impossible for me now.
The thing is, it would be okay for me, really.
I mean, I could understand the problem if I were in his position.
But I could also argue that it was all caused by his insecurities.

Sam constantly said to me that he actually is satisfied with his height.
But he was just embarrassed by the fact that the girl is taller than him, and he just doesn’t want to walk beside her if, let’s say, they are going out and all.
I said to him that he does not make any goddamn sense.
I mean, if he actually is satisfied with his height and all, then why would it matter? Why would that one fact, that the girl is actually taller than him would matter that much if he’s satisfied with his height?
I could saw right through him, right inside him: his insecurity.
He started to make excuses about it, that it was not all about him:

He said that the girl WOULD mind about it, that the girl would not want to walk beside him, beside a dwarf, that she needs someone taller than her.
I asked Sam if he have asked the girl about it.
I mean, I know it’s a sensitive topic for him, but at least he needs to know what she thinks about it, especially now that they have met each other.
And Sam said that he haven’t asked her, but he knows for sure that she would mind.
I immediately called that bullshit.
Sam was assuming things before asking the person herself.
And that, was his biggest goddamn mistake about all of this.

I know that there’s always a possibility that the girl actually mind about his height, but, there’s always a possibility that the girl doesn’t mind, too.
I mean, it’s always a Schrodinger until proven otherwise.
But it’s true that I’m not Sam, I don’t understand how it feels like to be a relatively short guy that have to face a world where height is apparently matters a lot for a guy, perhaps because of the goddamn “I want my boy to be this tall” standard that’s been set by most of the girls in the world.
As for me, well, she’s a physically little girl.
She even called me Shrek because she said I have a tall, and huge body and all.
Although I think, it was just because she’s being a physically small girl.

So I said to Sam that it was all his illusions.
That what he thinks about what the girl was thinking– it only exist in his head.
I mean, like I said, he’s assuming things about what the girl was thinking.
I asked him if the girl is still looking for him after they met, and he said yes.
Well, that’s positive enough of a sign for me that the girl likes him.
If Sam really want to know what the girl is thinking, he should start asking the girl instead of assuming things– because those things that he assumed was a projection of his insecurities towards himself– towards his height.
He said he really saw the girl and not himself, but I don’t think so.
I think what he saw or see in front of him is a mirror.
A mirror that reflects all of his insecurities, that made him unable to see the true intentions and feelings of the girl that (might) actually like him.

At this point, looking at Sam, I now understand why loving yourself before loving anyone else is just so important.
I know that your partner or the person that you love could help you to love yourself and all, but, in Sam’s case, he already pulled himself back before the girl even have the chance to say to Sam if she wants to love him or not.
And that, is one of the most stupidest thing in this world.
I rebuked what Sam was thinking numerous times, saying that he needs to ask the girl herself before making any assumptions, but he kept beating around the bush.

I guess he will need some time until he could say it to her.
Yes, he will need some time to break the mirror in front of him that projects all of his insecurities, and see what the girl actually is thinking about him.


Dear Love,

I remember both of our insecurities.
Let me start with mine: I used to hate my own face.
I hated how big my cheek muscle is, to the point where people would say that I’m overweight when they are looking at my face even though I have a completely average or even slightly skinny body; all they did was looking at my face.
That’s why I always hate short hair, and I believe you already knew it.
That state of dissatisfaction with myself also explains why I always afraid that you might slip away from my hands– because I always project my insecurities in you, I always thought that you would slip away the moment you had the chance because you might not satisfied with what I have just like I did.

Remember the fight? Remember the time I always pester you with questions?
Yes, it was all about insecurities, I was so afraid that you might slip away.
I was so afraid that you might hide something from me about another guy.

Sad, wasn’t it? Good thing that it was all in the past– that I’ve changed.

Now, about you.
I still remember that you love to hide something about yourself, even at this stage in your life, at this moment, I believe you still hide things from me.
I know that you’re a great liar when it comes to hiding things.
Although, arguably, I could always smell something fishy when you hide those things.

The thing is, do you remember the time I asked you your address and you didn’t want to give me because of one reason that you didn’t want to tell me and all?
And turns out, it was just because you were so afraid that I might send you stupid things and all, that it has something to do with your past?
And you were still afraid of me, even though I constantly said that I won’t send you stupid things and I won’t do anything about it.
But you didn’t fully trust me about it.
That, was one of your insecurities.

Love, I could argue that yours is all about trust.
It was a ticking time-bomb that you wanted to get rid of but you can’t because you did not actually try to take the leap of faith to trust someone completely.
You were living with fear ever single day, fear that someone could catch you off guard and stab you in the back whenever they have the goddamn chance.

You built your trust as a house of cards, that all it needed was someone to came to you and pull one of the cards and make a wicked smile on their face.

And, it happened– someone did it.

You were too busy to look at the aftermath– to look at all the cards that were laying on the floor– the fragile foundations of what your trust once were.
You even forgot that I was standing right beside you with billions of packs of cards and glues to help you strengthen your trust– to build them once again.
Yes, you shoved me off because you felt like you weren’t able to trust me.
I don’t now which one is sadder: to shove off someone that just want to love you and trust you completely only because of what another person did to you, or being completely mistrusted by someone that you love because of things that you didn’t do.
I’ll let you choose.

Looking at you, me, and Sam made me realize something.
That, when the problem is within us, change becomes one of the most arduous and most heroic things we can ever achieve, for it’s not simple or clean or easy.
It’s the maddening equivalent of sorting through a pile of tightly tangled wires, as we’re forced to examine the behaviors we’re least proud of and what’s below the surface driving them for us, and below that, and below that, and below all that.
It requires that we crack open our whole hearts and lean into discomfort over and over again until we’ve come out the other side, lighter, and in some sense: reborn.

Love, what makes overcoming our most deep-seated, most internal challenges so difficult is that, each of us has got a little army of goddamn demons living inside us that’s fueled on our fears and self-doubt and insecurities.

This fear-driven part of us tells us to resist that which is uncomfortable and unfamiliar, for it coaxes us to slide back into our old and unhealthy selves.
It reminds us how soothing our comfort zones can truly be.
And it gently gives us permission to ignore when something about is unhealthy or spinning its wheels– it’s trying badly to keep us the way we’ve always been.
I remember that you were trying so hard to continue to trust me and people around you when the event happened the first time– I understand.
I remember that you even said to yourself that, whenever we are faced with hell, we just have to keep going, and going, and going– I believe it’s Churchill’s words.
Sadly, that one day made you ultimately stop your breakthrough.
And you pulled back, you pulled yourself back and gave up.

Love, I’ve gotten out of the other side of my insecurities.
There might be some others, others that I still haven’t known yet.
But, as you said before, yes, I’ve grown, and I’ve fully changed.
I have pushed past what I saw as an unfamiliar space, and now I’m here, in a place where everything is lighter, freer, and doesn’t feel like I need to be tamed or controlled– the space where pain and fear no longer govern my every move.

And so, Love, you saw how I changed myself– you saw that I have pushed myself our of my comfort zones and past all my known filthy insecurities.
Now it’s my turn to ask you:

Will you let your courage and perseverance come in when you’re faced with your biggest challenge: to fully trust me once again with all that you have?
Will you let our love won over your fears once again, like that time at the airport, where you hugged me tight like there’s no tomorrow ?
Will you let our love set you free, gives you wings, and make you soar high up to the sky, erasing that love-cage paradigm of yours that you have?

Will you, Love?






Dear Love,


I’m a little bit out of my mind right now.
And so, I’m going to be frank and say whatever it is that I have in mind about you.




A cynical girl who doesn’t see the point of relationship– who took pride in being independent and self-sufficient, who enjoys her freedom and just doesn’t want to trade it for anything– that believes love isn’t even for her– at least not for now– that would look at someone in her self-satisfied manner and says:

“… And what is love anyway?”

I wonder if you’ve just been making excuses to cover up a painful truth that you were weak inside– that you were so, so scared– that you were so hurt and up-guarded that you didn’t dare to dream anyone would ever want to get close to you and really know you– to knock on your door and be a part of your life. Maybe you even doubted that it was possible, for maybe, maybe you feared that being you was being unbearably too much– for your own battle of understanding, accepting and loving yourself didn’t seem to end anytime soon yet.

You showed the world the pretty part of you, and you kept the rest of it all for yourself– hard to contain, tough to see, too broken to trust– or so you thought. You used smiles and positive thinking and maybe, maybe alcohol as the band-aid, not knowing when you would be cut open and break down like an overheated machine– All the while, you convinced yourself that you didn’t need more of those shits.

Maybe it’s true, maybe on some Saturdays or even Sundays, with some people, at certain stage of life, you really don’t mind– after all, most of the times, you got what you specifically asked for and it was fun and fair. But maybe there’s another day that you feel like you had to do something– that you had to look past the easy and comfortable and tell yourself another story.

You don’t want to be weak, or scared, or run away like a goddamn coward; yes, you’re not a coward, you’re strong, and you’re too passionate to live a life of superficiality and mediocrity– maybe that’s the truth that matters a million times more than fear, than tears, than scars, and even insecurities– carefully, cunningly, wickedly– hidden underneath the seemingly unbreakable shell, the bold statements, and the condescending laugh of yours.

True, there might be too much in you, but every bit of that too much deserves to be on fire and wholly loved– to be seen, be known, be touched– not just on the flesh, but deep inside your core– all with one hell of a burning desire. Because I know that you don’t want unsure interest and half-arsed attention– you don’t want kisses that are gone as soon as they leave the lips– and especially, not the kind of touching that makes you feel like you’re only good for your body.




And that’s why, I will dare myself to say this:

I want you back, and I want you to keep coming back.

Back for – maybe – drinks, back for dinner and talks, back for long walks and bus rides and slow kisses under the twilight sky, back for one more night and many nights to let loose and be free with our instincts.

Trust me– let me take off your layers, and then unwrap everything in you– raw, and fierce, and sincerely yearning for your secrets– for your imperfection, wounds, and vulnerabilities– for your ideas, aspirations, and dreams– for a world that only you and me can see– show them to me and go all in with me.

No, Love– you don’t have to be afraid anymore.





At time like this, I always think of the things that I should to to her.
The question of: “What should I do ?” echoing inside my skull.
Because, right now, she’s guarded herself right inside her private place.

With all those high walls, those thick bulletproof windows, and those barred doors.


No, I didn’t know that she’s guarded– not initially.
I thought she’s independent and confident– driven and seemingly content.
Yes, it seemed as thought she was living a big life, yet in that big life itself, is where she is just the most closed– as if it’s a paradox.
It was as if she’s filled all the little spaces with something that she always have.

I am not going to sugarcoat it, it was the fall that ultimately broke her.

It was when she found the truest seeming, most divinely timed, and so evidently fated people around her, only for all of those to turned back against her.
She let all of those burn through her, and left her with nothingness.
Yes, she grasped, and convinced herself that it was just absolutely had to be.
She rested her heart in that one safety: that it was just had to be.
But, did all of those were true? Or was it just an illusion?
Which one was true and which one wasn’t?
No, I can’t even answer the question, and maybe, maybe she can’t either.

But, I would say that she is independent indeed.
I said that because she did just what she needs to do.
Moment by moment, hour by hour, choice by choice, she rebuilt her life.
She built, and built, and built, and built, and just built.
She built until the life around her was the perfect antidote, the perfect cure to what scared her and made her broke in the first place.

It was safe– it was all hers, and not anyone else– At least it wouldn’t wake up one day and leave her– It was what she had, and it is what she has.
And I know that I can’t blame her for wanting to protect it.

Okay, she could argue that she is NOT bitter, that she just knows better.
She could argue that she is NOT cynical, that she is just being realistic.
But, until she knows another reality, the one where people’s intentions are not filled with crappy shits– where their intentions are not just about emptying people out for their own interests– she will continue to be reserved.
She, will continue to be guarded all the time.
Being cautious– tentative– shy– and the worst of all: secretive.

I came up with any myriad of synonyms to describe her.
But, none of those things were labeled as “guarded” by me.
I mean, I found the words that praise her being independent, or maybe the words that described how difficult she is to read and all.
Yet none of them had anything to do with the fact the distance she puts between herself and everyone else, has to do with self-preservation.
With protecting her heart– with being guarded.

Right now, she really is just seem hard to get to know and all.
Maybe, when she meets people, she would give more of little shrugs and starts of stories rather than all out tales with no detail spared.
Maybe, people will think that she is simply more careful, more methodical with her thoughts and actions than a girl who is just less reserved and more impulsive.
Well, I could say that she is, but only up to a certain extent.
Because right now, she is just so, so difficult to get to know and to learn about.
She is calculated with her words and just thoughtful with her actions.
She is being so cautious, tentative, shy (perhaps) and super secretive.
Even to me, the person that she’s known for years that has done nothing to her.

But, I could say that, she could be all of those, she could have those things, and still be a girl – hidden in plain sight – who is guarded.
Because, let me tell you, all of those things, and all of those traits that she has, are an effect of her being so guarded.
They are an effect– an aftermath, of being hurt.
And when a girl is hurt, and hurt enough, she becomes a girl who’s guarded.

I know that loving a girl like her will not happen overnight– I said this again, and again hundreds– even thousands of times to people and to myself.
Because maybe – for a girl like her, a girl who is guarded – maybe she just doesn’t trust love– and doesn’t trust my love to her– and doesn’t even trust loving me.
And maybe, again, maybe, just MAYBE, she doesn’t even trust herself.

Let me tell you that a girl who is guarded, is actually a girl who has loved and loved deeply– who’s put her heart and her soul on the line in the past.
Sadly, she has done all that to most people only to come back empty-handed.
And even sadder, the only thing that she got from me– the love that I gave for her, she took it for granted– she spilled all of those between her fingers.
Yes, she has trust and risked herself for something or even someone, and come back not only with empty handed, but worse, she came back scarred.
She went all in, and instead of coming back with something, she has lost her own.
And she has lost theirs, too, all at once.

Let me tell you that a girl who’s guarded is not incapable of trusting or loving.
She is just making sure she doesn’t trust the wrong someone ever again.

Instead of handing over her heart with no questions asked and with a side of blind hope, she’s making sure that when she passes it to someone, they know how special it is– that instead of leaping without being sure that someone is going to catch her, she makes sure that if she starts to fall, she could catch herself.
That, instead of trusting someone simply based on their words, she’s making sure she fully understand what they mean when they speak, what they do when they promise something– before making up her own mind whether or not to believe them.
That, instead of putting her faith in others, she’s putting it in herself.
And, if you ask me, I’m going to say it’s somewhat a good thing.
Of course, there’s the bad side of not trusting people, or even arguably being overly cautious to things, but being moderately cautious is always good.

For me, I always think that there is something– an element inside her, that which can never fully go away and all, for she might trust me again– and I know that she will, but there will still always be a little voice in the back of her head, telling her and remind her of the things that’s passed:

“.. Remember that time when…”

And maybe, at that time, she will feel as if her world is crushing down on her.

And so I decided that I have to be louder than that voice.
I want to encourage her to be open when she thinks that she shouldn’t be herself.
I want to put her mind at ease when she feels like she can’t trust her decisions.
I want to love her, and love her with all that she have and with all that she is when she’s convinced that she’s utterly unlovable.
And I just want to be there and catch her when she feels like she’s falling.

I’m not trying to tear her walls down and try to build a new life for her.
I’m not trying to dismantle the life she’s built in place of what she lost.
I’m not trying to break through her walls, no, I’m not.

I just want to get in and be the part of her world inside her walls.
I want her to open up to me, and give me her trust.
Because I know, that inside, I will find one of the most beautiful stories I’ve ever had the privilege to read.

And that, is worth more than anything.


Dear Love,

I want to look into your eyes and let you know that you could trust me completely.
Not by words, but through the way I hold your gazes– like I am not afraid to know more about you and just all that you have inside those walls of yours.
I see you, and nothing that you tell me now could change the fact that I do appreciate you for the wonderfully unique individual that you are.
And no matter what time of the day it is, I will make sure you know that you’re heard and understood and never alone, even if it’s all about your darkest secrets.
For I will gaze into your eyes while pulling you close into me, and I will reassure you completely that nothing has changed about how beautiful you’ve always been.
That I do want you just the same– if not more– every day and every day after.

I will look deep into your eyes, and through mine, I will let you see for yourself – now more than ever – a beautiful being who is not damaged or broken, but strong, and brave, and always deserving of love and trust.

Because, little by little, I want to see you, like the first cherry of the spring, open those pretty pink petals and blossom into the extraordinary woman I have always seen in you and believed you to be since years and years ago.
That, with just a single touch from my heart and my soul to yours, even the most jagged, sharpest edges that you have, become tender at my fingertips.

Yes, Love, with that, I’m going to hold on to you.
And I’m going to choose you now, and choose you every single day.





Sonnet 18.

Madness, lunacy, call it what you must,
But I’ll still sit and watch you all night long;
Call it devotion, but do not say lust,
And you’ll wake to birds chirping our love song.
Turn over to me with smile on your face,
And nuzzle your nose at nape of my neck,
For your every movement that’s full of grace,
Made me melt into weak and helpless wreck!
Put your small lovely fingers on my lips;
I’ll hold in laughter as you kiss my nose,
And I’ll lean close and take hold of your hips;
But oh! That is not as far as it goes!
            For I want you here away from the world:
            Our souls, tangled, yet graciously unfurled!




You’ve became the occupant of my mind,
The occupant in my mind,
And the tranquility in my soul.
Yes, I do crave to feel your presence,
I do long to be just by your side,
Just me, and you, two of us– as we should be.



It’s weekend, and I have NEVER been so excited for weekends before.
I know, I’ve had a hectic week, and it’s time for me to finally get some rest.

And I finally have the time to write my things extensively.

Few days ago, she messaged me.
She suddenly said things out of the blue, I guess it was related to my last post.
And she said things about me, things that she.. Almost never said to me before.

She said that, now that I have a big responsibility, then it’s actually a sign that I have successfully grown– That humans, should have grown from time to time.
And she also said, that sometimes, being too happy with what they’ve achieved– being too happy after they’ve grown, humans usually forget about one principal thing that came from the very basic of physics:
The higher they rise, the harder they fall.

She told me a brief story about a human– a random person.
At first, he was standing at the same level with another person in his company.
At that time, whenever the person had difficulties or anything, there were also a lot of people helping him and such; in short, it was peaceful and easy for him.
And suddenly, without realizing it, that person was already one step ahead than the others– he suddenly got promoted, and he’s given bigger responsibilities.
The promotion went on and on, and there were a lot of things going on as the person went up the stairs– the stairs of promotion.
But with all of those things, after he stood up high at the top of the things that he built and the things that he has been given, he finally understood what does “The higher they rise, the harder they fall” actually means.
Yes, there were a lot of people below, people that helped him before when he was actually at the same level as them before he got the promotions.

But, turns out, those people only wanted to help him when he’s on the same level as them, and those people did praise him for his job, but that’s that.
Because at the time the person actually fell, those people ran away; they were scared; they don’t want his rubbles and debris to fell on the top of their heads.

That being said, she told me to keep grow, and grow.
And she told me that no one actually knows when we will rise or fall, that I need to understand the risk in every single thing that I will take.
For even though I’ve been promoted, even though the boards of my company actually gave me bigger responsibilities to lead teams and all, that even though MAYBE I got happiness related to the job that I have right now, I need to remember that there is no such as tan eternal happiness in this world– there won’t be one.
Because, she said, in the end, we need to do whatever it is that we need to do.

And I replied.

I replied with somewhat a wall-of-text.
I said to her that – just like what she already knew – I was like that, too.
I didn’t like to see people succeeded or being happy of their achievement.
I wasn’t able to do anything significant, and all I could do was just looking to the top, and being envious to people’s happiness and achievements.
And I said to her that I somewhat agreed with what she said.
Because, I was like that, too: whenever my friends had any difficulties, I will always help them in whatever it was on the things that they have difficulties in.
But, when they actually reach success, when they actually reach the top, it was a whole another story– a story that I hated so goddamn much.

At our most basic level, we, humans, have our ugliness inside our heart.
Envy and jealousy were just two of so many ugly things that we have.
And just like what I’ve described in my previous posts, Envy was my biggest weakness– the worst of the worst of all the things that I have.
I was so envious to people’s achievements, I didn’t even care who the person was.
But, even more worse was, the people that I helped before, whenever they reached the top, I’ve turned myself hating them– I hated them with all my soul.

Yet it was all in the past.
I learned to understand people, I learned to be happy in other people’s achievement.
I learned to put myself in other people’s shoes, on what does it feel like to be succeed, filled with achievement, and reached the top.
I could even say that I am not the same man as I was years ago.

I told her that she needs to understand, that not ever single person that she knows will disappear from her sight whenever there is something bad happened to her.
That not every person will run away from failures that they see.
Because, the people that she saw, people that were in her reality, people that ran away from her as she fell from her throne, were only a small portion of people from what the world – even the universe – has to offer for us.
I mean, look at me, and look at me closely: I never went anywhere, but sadly, she didn’t put me in her equation and thought that all people are the same.
Well, maybe it is easier for humans to look at something bad inside of them or around them, and will usually take something good that they have for granted.

About happiness, I fully understand that nothing lasts forever in this world.
But for me, personally, as long as I have it for my whole life– during the “short” stay that I have in this world, it’s enough for me.
Happiness that I could get and I could embrace until I die– until the longest range of time that I could ever imagine, is enough– it’s more than enough.

Actually, there were so many things that I could say to her.
There were so many debatable things that I could use to open a discussion with her.
Yet, I decided that I don’t need to message her so many wall-of-text for things like that– related to the topics that she said to me earlier.
I told her that I’m used to verbal discussion, and maybe, maybe she and I later could fight around (not literally) the topics that she told me, that maybe she and I could actually share each other’s opinion.
Now that, would be awesome.

Come to think of it, it happened again.
She made me remember and aware of things that I need to tread carefully.
And, especially, I was having a hectic week, in that busyness, I really need to be reminded of so many things– things that I usually forget to pay my attention to.

Well, her timing just never cease to amaze me, really– It was as if she could stare straight into my soul and immediately understand what I need.
I didn’t even know how she managed to do that numerous times.


Dear Love,

Do you have some kind of magic clock-alarm thingy in your room ?
I don’t know what it is with you and your timing to message me.
It just seems so.. Right and at the point, just in time, and never miss.

Let me tell you something about it without making up anything:
After you said to me “Don’t forget to be happy”, things happened.

Day after you said that, I continued to go through my week just like usual.
And then, one of my friends from Malaysia contacted me, wanted to catch up.
We talked about things, general things about each other’s condition.
And then, well, she asked me about my job.
I answered and tell her it was a totally hectic week with my job and all.
And she continued, telling me that I should really stop trying to kill myself.
And that I should try to be happy and stop working so hard.
That was the first.
You could see her posting in my Facebook wall saying something related to that.

I continued, I went on with my days.
And then, last Friday, as I was playing board games with my co-workers and some people from outside of the company, one of them talked to me.
I know him since months ago, he was the first few guys that I’ve known from playing board games, along with several other people from outside the company.
Just like the first, he was asking me about my work and all.
I said to him that I was having a hectic week and all.
He said to me that it’s good that I’m having fun and all.
And he continued to say that I should have fun more, that I should be happy.
That, was the second.

And then, yesterday, I went out with my friends, some co-workers and their friends.
We went to this certain Mexican Bar, because one of my co-workers is a dance trainer, and he wanted to show us his expertise in Salsa dance.
And, as we were having some laughs, one of them asked me about my job, my hobbies, about the things that I love to do, you know, some basic stuffs about me.
One of them was amazed that I read Shakespeare (I don’t even know if it’s that rare) and asked me about the book reviews that I’ve made.
And one of them said this:

“Now that you were having a constantly busy and hectic week, do you actually have the time to read and review books? I mean, there’s not much people like you! You must have little time to do things that you’re happy with, aren’t you?”

I was dumbfounded for split seconds, and then continued to talk like usual.
That, was the third.

Now, few hours ago, my co-workers talked to me, and asked me about my Saturday.
She was asking about things related to my job, on her marketing division.
I told her that I was having a quiet Saturday with only reading books and writing things, just like another weekend, only with more sleep.
And suddenly, just so sudden, out of nowhere, she said something.
She said that I need to spend more time doing whatever makes me happy.
That she feels like I’m not even having fun, and have too much to worry about.
I constantly worrying things, trying to get a lot of things done, and even forgot to stop and have fun, that I got my attention to my work too much.
Moreover, she said that I care about what people think quite a lot, which is something that is kind of bad according to her.
She said that she might be wrong and I might be already happy and all, but still.
That, was the fourth.

Or maybe with that one somewhat long wall-of-text of yours in between those, the total is already five– 5 times I’ve been reminded to be happy by numerous people.

What. The. Hell.

Now, Love, I don’t understand what is happening.
But when things like this happened, I know that it actually means something.
But, you know, I just don’t understand on how to be happy.
I know that I should do things that I want to– that makes me happy.
Okay, Love, I’ll try– I mean, I’ll try to do it.
I know it comes from the inside and all, I just don’t know how to do it.
People say that, I shouldn’t think too much about it, that I shouldn’t try to be happy, and just be happy instead– but that does not makes sense.
Well, okay, maybe it is. Okay, Love. Okay.

I’ll be happy, I won’t forget to be happy.
I will do the things that I want to do without worrying too much about it.
At least, I promise you I will try to do it.

Love, again, your timing never cease to amaze me.
Things related to you– that actually started from you, are always make sense, and I always got hints related to them– to the things that you said, every single time.
I don’t know if it’s all about Universe or whatever it is that is happening to me, with you always being the very first thing that gave me hints on them.
Maybe it starts with you– all that is good for me right now, all that will actually change me into a better person, a better man– at least for you.
Call me cheesy, call me whatever you want, but right now, after all that happened with you and me, I believe that there must be something between us.
The words you said to me to remind me about my health and all, the song thingy that you sent me, and now these reminder for me to be happy and the warnings.
I don’t know if you feel the same thing or experiencing the same thing, but I really, really hope you do.

And I hope, you won’t get tired of reminding me of things.
I’m still so, so far away from being the person that I want to be, I still got a long, long way to go, and I do want to be a better person day by day.

Love, without you and all the words you’ve said to me, I won’t achieve even half of the achievement that I have and the person that I am right now.
Know that the love that I have for you made me change– it made me grow.
Know that you, realized it or not, changed me completely to be a better person.

Thank you, Love.








A goddamn hectic week.
Yes, I am having one right now.

Long story short, I was assigned to a new project.
The boards saw that I have the capability to lead a team, and so, they put me into a new team with bunch of engineers, and I was expected to lead them.
With the ongoing development process, I have to set meetings with another people.
Managers, team members, co-workers from another domain, CTO, etc.
I was SO overwhelmed by the number of workloads that I have this week.
My schedule from 11 to 9 is full with meetings and discussions.
Yesterday, I even had 10 meetings in a row with only 30 minutes lunch break.

As I was trying to rest myself and looking at the schedule for today, all the while reviewing the work that I had done yesterday, I checked my phone.
It was already an hour past midnight.
I usually put my phone on silent mode, without vibrate.
It’s not like that I hate human connection, I just don’t really want to be disturbed by unimportant peeps while I’m working, especially with trivial matters.

And I saw a message from her.
Again, just like the last time, I froze in place.
With half-shaking hand, I opened the message from her.
And it was a sentence that changed my whole week, or even the whole September:

“Don’t forget to be happy.”


I don’t know what was in my CTO’s mind.
He actually said that he saw a potential in me, and wanted to trust me in something.
Something bigger, and something new, related to the company’s project.
And, like I said, here I am, leading engineers in a new team with new project.
But, I guess, just like what Uncle Ben, Voltaire, Churchill, and Roosevelt said:
“With great power comes great responsibility”
Then I guess those words are applied in my field of work, too.

This week is just the peak of my work.
Last week was bad, too, although not as hectic as this week.
Honestly, I’ve become a machine in trying to keep up with my routine.
Reading books, writing without posting (because I do not have enough time to post all my writings in my book), sleeping, doing my work, just everything.
She said to me once that I should put whatever it is that I want on the stack for the day and start to prioritize things based on that stack.
And it’s working so far, it really is working.

But, like I said just now and days and weeks ago, I’ve become a machine.
Unlike weeks ago, I even rarely go out and having drinks with co-workers.
I said to them that I still got a lot of things that needs to be done.
And, I even stopped playing games with my friends.
Friends that I’ve known for years and been playing game with for years.
Yes, it was Zeus and Hermes.
Zeus actually said it was kind of ironic, because I was so afraid that I would not have time to do other things because of my work, and yet, now that I have the time, what I’m doing is I still prioritizing my work over other things.
Yes, I somewhat agree with him that it’s still kind of ironic.
Maybe it’s true, I forgot to have fun, maybe I even forgot to take a deep breath and look at everything from higher or even 3rd person point of view.

Until yesterday.
I got slapped – not literally – in the face by that message from her.

It actually made me aware of myself.
Think of it like someone suddenly being gushed by gallons of water into their face when they were actually fast asleep– guaranteed to be instantly awake.
It made me ask myself: “What the hell am I doing?”
I stood up, and look around my office.
All the lights, the desks, chairs, whiteboards, sticky notes, monitors, laptops, meeting rooms, talking co-workers, books, carpets, just everything.
I took a deep breath, and look down to my desk.

Everything was still the same.
The books, the laptops, the desk, the cables, pens, paper, etc.
And suddenly, I was fully conscious.
How long have I been like this?
How long have I forgot of my surroundings, and just so focused on my work?
How long have I treated reading as a mandatory thing, and not as a hobby of mine?
How long have I neglected my daily posts, and switched to write stupid, obsfucated words in my book without even fully unleashing my heart from its cage?
I don’t even think anyone has the answer, not even me.

Suddenly I felt so, so, so weak and exhausted.
All those strength that I usually have around that hour – poof – gone.
I put my phone, closed my laptop lid, and stared out the window.
I could saw just a glimpse of reflection of myself in the mirror.
And, while looking at the city lights, I asked myself one question:
“Have you forgotten how to be happy?”
And I didn’t even answer myself about it.
I know that being happy is tied to everything we work for, everything we pray of, everything we live for, or everything that we even dream of.
It is the common ingredient we all lust for– the prize we all hope to win.
Happiness is the implied treasure that awaits us if we’re, lets say, thin, or even rich, or even pretty, or maybe smart, or, well, whatever.
The list just goes on, and on, and on.

Maybe among other things, it is attached to out jobs, or even paychecks.
Maybe it is related to simply winning a game you were playing at.
Maybe it is about getting raise, maybe about our surroundings.
Or even about the clothes we wear everyday, and so on.
Yet, I could say that, maybe they are not a real thing.
Because, those many things just seem to be the placeholder for happiness.
My question was: “if, let’s say we achieve them, is that the prize?”
And usually, it isn’t.
Maybe, with those things, I could say that, I have thought that I was happy.
But in reality, I was not, something was always missing.

I’ve said before in one of my posts that I’m afraid to say anything to her.
I’m kind of afraid that I might disturb her or something.
And yes, I still am, that was why I didn’t even dare to reply “Thank you”.
My thought was, I promised her that I will always be there for her, and I am– I still am, I just don’t want to disturb her with trivial things that she doesn’t need, such as, the reply messages from me.
I mean, who knows, she might not want me to reply her messages and all.

Yes, I know it was an assumption, and perhaps, if she said otherwise– if she said that it was all a wrong assumption, then I know that it was an idiotic assumption.
That with that assumption, I was being a complete moron.

But, with that, over time, fear began to creep in.
Fear began to dominate all aspects of my life.
Because, like anyone else,I wanted to be happy, but it was fraught with so much old anxiousness and fear of pain and risk that might NOT be there that I was paralyzed.
With all of those stupid assumption, eventually, I just forgot how.
I just forgot how to be happy and be open to her like I was.
And sadly, I am reduced to me and my writings when it comes to her.
Maybe I have forgotten how to be happy.
Maybe I am not even actually happy, that I am just going through the motions.
I could say that I am happy to her when she asked me, but maybe, maybe deep down I know that I am just lying to her about my state of happiness.

That maybe, maybe I do have everything that I wanted– good job, good pay, good position, good career, but somehow, there’s still something that is missing.

And I guess we all know what– no, who’s the person that I’m missing.

But, after that one sentence– one magic sentence, I understand something.
People said that happiness is just a matter of choice– well it might be.
But I guess, I guess happiness is just so relative.
Okay, when we are talking about relativity, then everything is relative, but–
But happiness, happiness actually comes from within.
Rumi said: “The soul is here for its own joy” which actually bolster the fact that happiness comes from within the person him/her self.
And for me, I guess I know what my soul wants.

As it turns out – like I have always known – she has always been my wildest dream.
She is the happiness inside the state of my mind and my heart.
She is the constant and the fleeting side of my feelings.
Yes, she comes from within my soul, but through that mere one sentence, it proved that it even comes from the outside of myself.
It also proves that happiness comes from the little things.

If she does care about the state of my happiness, and actually remind me not to forget to be happy, then I think I should treat myself better.
I mean, she rarely messages me, she might even rarely think about me, but she still have the goddamn time to spare her time to remind me that one, simple thing.
One simple sentence, and it worked miraculously.
Is she a miracle? Yes, she might be, with all that she is.

She is the only person that could carve a genuine, loving smile on my face, using simple reminder words that echoes within the skull inside my head, within the muscle inside my heart, and within the tangled space inside my soul– a soul that is filled with my love for her– in which she intentionally enhanced it billionfold.

If that was not a miracle, then I just don’t know what it was.


Dear Love,

Maybe everyone said that our lives should be good, that we should make it like one.
Maybe everyone said that, we need to sort our life.
But sometimes, sometimes I even love to life my life and love life (yes, by love life means that it is ALL about you, and nothing else) the messy way.
Everyone says that life should be like this and be like that.
They pointed out all the success stories and the motivations from other people.
And it’s just the same, even no difference, with love.
Everyone says love should look like it’s been torn out of a romance novel.
That maybe we should ride off together on horses, hand in hand into the sunset, or whatever other shitty movie ending you want to substitute.

But that’s not how life works, and that’s not how love works.

Life is messy, and filled with challenge and things outside our comfort zones.
It’s filed with overwhelming events, and disappointments from other parties.
Sometimes it even doesn’t work on the way that we just wanted because we are supposed to be somewhere else in our life to reach our perfection.
Another one: love is messy, too– and it is even more messier.
Love is vulnerability, and vulnerability means imperfection.
It’s both of us showing the parts of ourselves that aren’t beautiful.
And it means honesty in the ugliness– It means nights that aren’t romantic.
And it also means there’s conflict in it.

And if you ask me, if our love is like that, of yes, Love– yes it is.

But, the thing is, this is the kind of love that I ever wanted.
It will not always be pretty, and will be filled with frustration and error.
It will have arguments and discussion and emotions that aren’t all happy ones.
It doesn’t sound like our favourite pop song– not even goddamn Justin Bieber’s.
Yet, it is also not all about those things, for it helps us in so many aspects in life– whether we fully realize about it or not.
Like the quote from (apparently) Lao Tzu said: being deeply loved by someone gives you strength, while loving someone deeply gives you courage.

You might or might not realize it, but aside from the courage that I got every single day from loving you, that one sentence actually gave me enormous strength.

That because of you, I want to soar, act, thrive and prosper more– I want to move, grow, flourish and further the boundaries of who I am and what I believe I can be.
Know that, with all that you’ve said, you’ve nurtured all of those in me. Conviction and confidence– strength and stature– Determination and complete disregard for the insecurities that was indoctrinated in myself.
With that once sentence, I feel so myself again– I feel so free.

Yes, I was and still am feeling immense love from that one sentence of yours.
And it injected happiness and love inside of me.
I didn’t know what you were thinking when you said that to me, but, I’ll have you know, that with just those simple words, you are making someone that love you so much happy, and it also giving me strength and courage to carry on every single day.
Yes, you’ve changed my days, weeks, and even months ahead of me.

Thank you, Love.

Hugs and Kisses,







It’s getting closer.
And by closer, I mean closer to the day where it all happened.

Maybe you lot or even her could argue that it matters more for her than me.
That I was not the one who was betrayed.
That I was not the one who was stabbed in the back numerous times.
Yet that was not the case– I know that I was not the direct victim.
But it was really painful to see her brought down to her knees and bleeding profusely for something that she didn’t do.
Not to mention that I was powerless, that I just can’t do anything about it.
I was, you could say, totally useless to her.


As much as I’m broken, I’m always thinking on how it felt for her.
People said that, what happened to her is way worse than what happened to me.
It was stupid, honestly.
There’s just no way that people could understand on what other people feel.
They could argue on each other in whatever way that they want.
But they are and will not going to understand each other completely.
It was the thing that I was trying to do.
I tried to get myself inside her shoes and understand how it felt for her.
I was constantly trying, but at the end of the day, I’m not her.
Even thought I argued that I managed to understand her completely, there will always be this part of her feeling that I did not understand.

It was fairly easy at first.
I even said to myself that she was “having a strange chest pain every single day”.
That she might had some pain that sears for hours inside that little body of hers.
That regardless of what she does or doesn’t do at some point in every day, she’ll ended up having her heart on fire that might be begging to leave her body.

Was it stress ?
Was the unbelievable pressure she put on herself and attempt to carry around day after day was finally getting to her that it was actually becoming physical?
Anyone, even therapist, might recommends meditation, drugs, all sorts of breathing exercises, or even trying to switch up her prescription.
But, regardless, at 2 AM, maybe she will roll around, even after all those sayings to calm herself down for hours, the chest pain will stay there anyway.
I said to her and myself that maybe it was because she’s repressing things.
That she should have think more about forgiving those who have hurt them.
That she should have purge herself of things that made her unconsolably sad.
But maybe the chest pain was still there– the kind that not even the doctors, or the shrinks, or even her friends or me are right about why.

Worse, she actually thought that she’s finally given her heart away too many times to people around her that didn’t even understand how to cherish her completely.
And maybe, maybe she thought it was begging her to stop doing it.
That maybe, maybe she thought that was a result of knowing that she had let her guard down when she should have kept it up.
And nothing, not even the most powerful antacid will make her heartburn go away.

Yes, she was heartbroken.
She walked around giving pieces of herself to people who never deserved them in the first place, that made her think that there is nothing left from her to give.

People could argue and say that you can’t die from a broken heart.
But you sure can wake up in the middle of the night and feel it trying to kill you.

The thing was, she refused to let me get close to her.
It was probably the thing that I didn’t fully understand the most.
I was standing in front of her, trying to be a man who inspires within her a love she never thought she would completely feel before.
I was trying to be a man who makes it looks so easy to her in everything, from the dismantling of her worries, the removal of her grit, the dust from her tired heart, the complete bubbling of her feeling, and even the swell of something that she told herself she would never allow inside her bones again.

But, right now, I’m standing in front of her, trying to strip her of her advances, who is trying to take the bricks out of her wall one by one.
Who disassembles years of strength that made her too hard on herself, and reveals to the world the softness of her foundation:
Her spine, her searching fingertips, and her hope.
Yes, I am standing in front of her, wanting to give her the world.
I do not know what she actually feels right now, with all the fact that she actually understand all the things that I am doing right here right now.
And I just can’t stop thinking:

Is she afraid because for the first time since so long, she feels the frost from within her faith starts to thaw? That for the first time, she sees the sun?
That for the first time since so long, she could feel it, warm on her skin, and hot on the back of her neck.
That for the first time since years and years ago, she is unharmed.
Yes, I am a mess, a bloody mess with all that I’ve done.
I’ve made a mess in front of her heart, with all the writings at her wall.
I’ve made a mess of myself with things related to my work.
And not only me, she has made mess for herself and for me, too.

But that doesn’t mean that she needs to be afraid of me,
Or even afraid of anything that I could do to her.
I don’t know, at times, I just want her to get out and talk to me about what I’m doing, and not just closed the door shut, and open windows to other people than me.

Or should I just once again knock at her door?


Dear Love,

In front of your door, now stands a man.
A man that has told you that he lives for you, and that he will never leave.
And you have to believe him– you have to trust.
Standing in front of your door is a man who will help you battle your demons.
A man who will hold your hand while you fight the war against your mind.
A man that will watch you as you open your chest and empty out the monsters and the soot and the names of memories you still haven’t faced.
He will see your baggage, your history, piled in front of him.
He will see the great purging of your very soul, and he will love you anyways.
He will love you anyways.

And he’s thinking if he should knock on your door or not.
With one of his bloody hands up, constantly looking at your decorated walls and door, and with his heart and mind weary, but still blazing with love for you.
And he just want to remind you of things about you and him.

Love, you are not a vessel of sadness; you are not a lost cause.
Do not run away this time– do not flee.
In front of your door, now stands a man who sees every phantom within you, and he has chosen to stay, and he has chosen to fight with all that he got.
A man with reckless abandon, that brings more than what the past was able to give you, that life has not always protected the softness of your heart.
And he, he wants do defend you.
He wants to show you what happiness is meant to feel like.

In front of your door, now stands me.
A man who wants to love you, and love you completely.