The Wandering

I cried this afternoon. The days had been bleak, the sky dipped in greysicle. I was talking to God in the darken room. I was, feeling tired.

It's started with going through my list of regrets, things I wish to change. Yep, I regret a lot of things. It's fine. Contrary to my previous belief, I can live with regrets, as long as I'm brave enough to admit them. They weight my heart, yes. And for some reasons, they've been a guidance for me walking through this life. My parents, they are a great provider, not so much of care takers. So then these regrets become ones. I  cannot help but thinking I'm a person with holes, lacking of fundamentals. So then these regrets fill me one by one.

I'm now old enough to accept that not everything I wish for is the best things for me. I, also, accept that what I need is not the best of everything. I need enough, being content in who I am in the past, present and future time. Having said that, there lies inside of me, the wonder. The one thing that I'm pretty sure has pushed me so far in this adventure. It's always started off with a curious thought, "I wonder if..." and the next thing is me jumping on an open door, exciting to continue the sentence with my own experience. 

And I think God never grant my wishes. There goes His plan, letting me running around, sprinkles glitter in the idea of The Great Great Tale of Myself. I know now, the ending is up to me, which doesn't necessarily fit to my personal liking.

There is this conflict within myself, this itch that I can still go further, grander, better. This itch that fuels me wandering like a ghost, empty, lifeless, with no particular goal but fulfilling the thirsty curiosity of mine. This afternoon, I felt tired of it all. I said to the ceiling, fuck it all. I cared, but I want to unlearn being that way. I want to step down the ride.

And I think God might grand my wish.

Spirited Away

I've been living on my own for the last 7 months now. 7 freakin months are lots of day, 210 days to be exact, living apart from my family. It should feel like a very long time. Some nights it does. Some others, it feels like blinking in slow motion: you still get flashes of images before you close your eyelid and open it to a changing of season.

The most frequently asked question is, aren't you homesick? In all honesty, no, I'm not. A moment after that, I realize I have my own definition of home, which resides in the existance of people that are dear to me. I don't miss the city, or an address with a zip code. I do miss my brother and sister, my friends, my cats. I miss moments when we hang out, talking about almost everything. I miss sitting in circle during dinner enjoying food my sister cooked. Or after office hour movie with friends once a month. Or Sunday coffee run when we sit through brunch and afternoon tea.

A home is not a place. It's people who are dear to me. Having them around give me such a security and stability, my little own solar system. We rotate side by side, keeping each other on track. Where I am living right now is such a wonderful place. I meet amazing people. But my people root way back in my life, they carve their meaning to my heart. It's easy to find myself feel lonely without them. Sometimes I just want to retreat and go back to the comfort of home. Yet I know what I'm doing now is needed.

Arriving on a New Decade

 Wow. Can I ever not be surprised on what's life throwing my way? Hahaha.

My last entry was last August. I reread in with a big smile. I can see her clearly from this point, that girl who put everything to get her shit together again, whether it's a newly shaped one or one she loved so much. That girl was me. I'm so proud of her :)

I can continue the story from that time. She, as we all know, is a fighter. She relentlessly tried opening new chances, new doors that lead to opportunities she might have looked for. Something for her heart, something for her brain, something to make her comfortable being herself. She realized she's an ocean, and felt happy to be one. As long as the moon was near, even better, reflected on her eyes. Her love had been cases of letting go, more of her own perfect scenarios, less of the object himselves. She's fine to be the admirer of the moon, as she knew, it watched her on the way home so she never really felt alone.

Then the universe granted one of her oldest wish: she's moving out. It happened swiftly fast, she's not sure she's blinking. But she could tell she's on the peak of happiness. She thought, a new year, a new city, a new job, top it with a new decade she's celebrating in summer. She's a sucker for the grand scheme of the cosmic; everything lined up like a constellation, too good to be true to not be a turning point of something big in her upcoming new adventure. After all, she'd been silently praying for so long. A new door led to opportunities she might have looked for. A new door arrived before her. She's so eager to come in.

Dreams are made of everything sweet and good looking sceneries. She knew bringing a lot of newness on her lugagge would shock her-loves-regular-routines-self. She knew, she'd be stepping into a strangeland, which the last time she did such act was 2016. She forgot how it felt. What kept her going was the knowledge that she's grown up a lot since then. She hoped it's enough to survive the early stage of adaptation. It's the first time she's living far away from her family, she had no idea what would happen being on her own. She hoped what she had in her was enough to survive the early stage of freedom.

Dreams are made of everything sweet and good looking sceneries. But she's not dreaming, she's living. She couldn't be happier to wake up to this new city. She struggled, got sick and had to deal with it alone. She felt lonely, so used of having easy access to her support system. Neverthless, she gained courage to cry herself out. She cried a lot. Over things in the past, over the burnt food, over unrequited love. She cried, she looked herself in the eyes while on it, something she never done before. She cried the goddam river she felt as if she's shedding all her burried scars. She cried, then she slept only to wake up feeling lighter and lighter everyday. She was shapeless, didn't recognize her own self. She thought, am I loosing myself again?

Today, she read her last entry on this blog. Her own words reach back to her. She will never loose what originally comes from within, as long as she has faith. And if she ever strays from her path again, it will be an adventure, not a failure. She might be shapeless, with fresh wound, bad teeth and no one to call a lover. But she counts her blessings and that comforts her to try opening new chances again.

She, as we all know, is a fighter and an ocean and grateful for this blog.