I was introduced as the sister of the girl that everyone in the group wanted to see, and you were introduced as the housemate and old pal of my sister’s then-crush-now-boyfriend. And I knew right then and there, that I had fallen in love with your smile.
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Date a girl who writes. She’s the girl scribbling down words on her overpriced Moleskine notebook during having coffee with you. She is the deep thinker, the lover of life, the caring one.
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On January 2010, I decided to make a decision that changes my life forever. But I wouldn’t be here without the permission to actually choose so.
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In the aftermath of the explosion that occurred in Boston on Monday, 15 April 2013, I find myself asking, what does it feel like to be there? I think, it feels like hell.
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Luckily, I’m not an unemployed 30-year-old who needs to cut expenses at all cost and go back from being independent to dependent. Nope, but that doesn’t make it easier.
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Some people I know hate their jobs. Some dread every single time when Monday comes. But sometimes, we do think of ourselves too highly.
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Dear future, I wonder if you’re doing alright.
I wonder when you look back to this particular moment in time, will you think of a period when you have made mistakes and wasted your time, or will you think this as the right passage of growing up?
I wonder if you have indeed published your books, like you have always dreamed of, and whether you have learned the tricks to handle people well.
I wonder if you are already the boss of your own self.
Because right here and right now, you were really not coping.
It’s up to the point where you dreaded the next phone call, just because you knew it’d be another blow to your soul.
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My blog’s crashed, again, for the third time. But this time, I didn’t get any heart attack. The secret’s to drink tea. And keep calm.
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Most often, making a difference means quantity over quality. Most often, making a difference means lending your hand to thousands of others, while the ones near you are left untouched. i don’t want to be that kind of difference maker.
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It’s been three months since I last stepped on Melbourne ground. And everything about it makes me miss my other home.
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