It feels unfair that some people have discovered what love is so early in their lives. No, not family love—the kind that’s expected. Families are supposed to love you; it’s the bare minimum. They’re the souls you’re placed on earth to be with, and I have that. But I mean the kind of love that has to be built—the kind rooted in a deep connection, where every small detail matters. Whether it’s the way someone’s smile breaks or how their mind wanders over a simple question—anything, really, that makes you think: This is my person.

Some people find that love long before their first paycheck, their college degree, or even their first phone. And the really lucky ones? They find it so early they barely recognize it as luck. It’s a long journey, they say, growing together while growing apart, navigating arguments, misunderstandings, and miscommunications. A long journey before you realize the person beside you is the one you’ll walk with forever.

The lucky ones rarely see themselves as lucky. But I do. They don’t know what they have—or what others lack.

Those of us who are less fortunate find love in other places. In the cracks of bad luck, in corners of ourselves we never expected, or by simply waiting, hoping that life will bring it our way. I’ve been all of those—floating from feeling to feeling, chasing whatever brings comfort in the moment. They say the love within ourselves is the true purpose of life, the one path to real contentment. And maybe they’re right. But even so, loneliness has a way of creeping in, toppling that self-love when you least expect it.

I guess God is fair. No one gets it all. The lucky ones might find love early but lack in other ways, while the rest of us thrive where they stumble. Maybe that’s just how things are meant to be.

I'm back here again, not that it's a bad thing. I suppose lonely nights have a way of bringing me back to my thoughts. It's a Friday night, and honestly, I'm living my best life at the moment. I have a great job that I excel at, and I regularly spend time with my friends. However, solitary Friday nights always affect me, especially if my plans for the night fell through.

Nevertheless, these lonely Friday nights have made me ponder. It occurs to me that certain people, whom I used to think about so often, may not think of me at all. Who are these people? Well, I don't know exactly. Perhaps those individuals I believed would never forget me due to the way they mistreated me. Despite convincing myself that I am unforgettable and the best thing that happened to them, the truth is, that's a falsehood.

In reality, they will likely find someone better than me—someone kinder, softer, more gentle, and more understanding. Someone who aligns more with their preferences, someone who simply isn't me. I continue to be the girl who was left behind, remaining hurt and perhaps in an even worse state. But regardless, I stay true to who I am, left and gutted. 

If evidence ever surfaced proving the existence of a higher power orchestrating the balance between good and bad, fate and hope, then my life is that proof. The moment arrived when positivity finally knocked on my door, ushering out all the negativity. The phone rang, its tone carrying the promise of hope, and as I answered, a wave of anticipation swept over me. Memories of anxious days, tearful nights, and the constant worry of unemployment flashed before my eyes. I clung to the phone, yearning for this call to be the turning point in my life. Miraculously, it was.

I've never been particularly religious, though I believe with all the sincerity and faith I can muster. The practice, however, has felt burdensome, especially during these past challenging weeks. I found myself resenting the fact that I only sought solace in God during my darkest hours, even though, in reality, turning to Him should never be a burden. I prayed, perhaps not as fervently as I should have, but I prayed nonetheless.

Then came yesterday morning's phone call, a divine proclamation that whispered, "I am here, and this is for you; do not forget me." I never intended to craft a narrative that sounded sanctimonious, but in these moments, my faith in the higher powers resonates loudly within me. Gratitude, thankfulness, and an abundance of faith flood my being. I secured the job I longed for—the very one I fervently prayed for, shedding tears to the heavens. The opportunity presented itself, radiating in all its glory, and now my new life begins.

Suddenly, the bad days lose their sting, the dark times appear conquerable, and every fiber of my being trusts in the trajectory of my life.

I promised myself I wouldn't write about temporary people, especially those I know will only be a fleeting presence in my life. But it's a promise I've never been able to keep. So here I am, wide awake at 4 am, putting my thoughts to words about you. I've been trying to distract myself from this, but every time I see you, I can't help but feel a deep longing. I want to know you better, open up to you, and have you in my life in some way. I'm well aware we've been through this countless times before.

I can't deceive myself by claiming there's no one else like you out there. In all honesty, I'm sure there are many who share your way of thinking, speaking, and responding. But after each encounter with you, I can't help but want you all over again. This feeling has persisted since the first time we met, even when we were both seeing other people. I doubt I'll ever get to express this to you directly, but at least I can share it here.

You strike me as someone with whom I could spend hours conversing, or simply listening to your thoughts and stories. Your perspective on the world, your insights into how it should work, your tales from 10th grade, and your nuggets of life advice, despite your youth, all captivate me. I'm not typically drawn to younger individuals, but there's something about you that's different. I can't say for certain what it would be like if we were together, but I'm willing to give it a try.

– ⚽

Seeking Inspiration

It has come to a point in my blogging journey where I find myself in need of fresh ideas. I'm currently at a creative crossroads, which is surprising considering I used to make a living out of writing blogs. It's a bit perplexing because I can't quite pinpoint my niche anymore.

Embracing Spontaneity

I've evolved into a more spontaneous writer, allowing my emotions and passions to guide my words. While I understand that this isn't a full-fledged career, it still holds immense personal value for me. There's an undeniable sense of gratification that comes with expressing my thoughts and feelings, even if it feels like no one's reading.

The Pitfalls of Overthinking

But the moment I start overthinking and exerting too much effort into finding the right words, that's when my content takes a nosedive in quality. It's disheartening to admit, but I fear this very post might be headed in that direction.

The Ominous Silence

The process feels increasingly monotonous, and my mind seems eerily silent. Some might argue that this silence is a form of peace, a chance for introspection. Yet, I see it as nothing less than writer's block, an obstacle I must overcome to rediscover my passion and creativity.

I don't talk about October enough, and I apologize to myself. Life has been tough on me, something I mention in every post, tweet, caption, but October has been so kind, and I'm eternally grateful. Unemployment has felt like the weight of the world on me, but with October, it didn't feel that way.

October 5th - Sabrina took me out for lunch at Tujoh in PJ. The food wasn't the best, but the company was.

October 6th - It was my last day of work. I was loved. We went out for lunch with the team, and the girls even bought me a custom cake to send me off. A core memory for real. The night of, I met the loves of my life, my friends. They surprised me with a dinner. When I had a new job, I had planned to eat with my friends, but that fell through, even the job. But these lovelies planned it all together, and I felt loved for the second time.

October 14th - I met with Megat. We went for a cheap lunch, went to a cafe, took hundreds of pics. God bless Megat for dealing with me trying to find the right angle, and spent the rest of the night eating a good burger and enjoying a live band.

October 21st - I went out on a date with a guy I really thought was the love of my life. He isn't, but it was still a good time, one to remember.

October 22nd - Dyed my hair. RIP hair, but it looks good.

October 26th - Celebrated Mush's birthday with karaoke with Aida and Thira, ending the night hanging out with Alip.

October 28th - Spent the night with Harith.

October 29th - Finally met up with Any. We caught up and it still felt like nothing changed. I ended up at Harith's again that night.

And in between, there was a lot of "me time" that I appreciated. Nights of movies, series, and music, catching up on my sleep. I love October. The best month so far.

I looked back to what I wrote in November 2018. As usual, I was sad over a boy. I honestly don't remember who it was about. 2018 felt like years ago, and that feeling is something I don't remember anymore. But I assume that when I wrote it, I felt the weight of the world. "Would I go back to you? If I spend too much time in the thoughts of the times we spent together, maybe I would. Would I want to? I'm not so sure." Like, okay? Who hurt me this bad? It's so funny to read back on it. Not just this, but every painful feeling I had before this, especially the ones I don't remember. When people say, "this too shall pass," I guess they were right. It passed, but my God, did it hurt. But I got over the hurt. I'm not exactly hurt at the moment. I don't know what I am right now, but this too shall pass, right?

I wish to look back on my entries and feel something, I assume. So here goes an endless stream of written words about my life that ends here. The useless piece of information or the gut-wrenching confession, it's all written here. As of now, it's just the mundane life of being at home 24/7, saying only 5 words per day, and only to myself. I sleep through the day, waking up only to reply to emails and staying up all night following up on said emails, discovering movies I never knew existed. Five days a week and repeat, hoping that one of these days that would change.

Every few days, I get to see familiar faces, and those days are tomorrow. I get to see Amy and Mimi again. The band is back together? It's hard to tell. I guess a little backstory for my future self reading this wouldn't hurt. Amy, Mimi, and I drifted apart due to what we adults called life. We simply stopped seeing each other. Of course, there's more to that, but let's not get into harsh details. But when we used to spend every waking moment seeing each other's faces, I guess it was a time I didn't appreciate enough. There were bad times, but there were definitely good times. I remember having the worst heartbreak I've ever felt in my entire life. They don't know this, but being surrounded by them stopped me from not wanting to be alive anymore. I couldn't actually drown myself in pills when there's no private time. And that isn't a bad thing. We had good times, and tomorrow we get to see each other again, hoping the feeling is the same.

As much as I try to avoid writing about you, I find it impossible to resist. Please, don't flatter yourself. Writing is in my blood, and it's my way of processing my emotions. So, once again, this is about you.

You may never know this, but last week, I made a conscious decision to stop writing about the people I love, those who've left their marks, whether sweet or painful, on my life. I resolved to focus solely on you. I considered you my ultimate source of inspiration; there wouldn't be another muse. Even if there were, I wanted you to be the one I remembered forever, the muse I could speak highly of.

However, that plan fell apart in less than a week when you made it clear that you wanted no part of me. After all, what's an artist without their muse? So I erased everything – you, the past, the emotions that felt so real. Maybe they were, but you made it seem like it was all in my head, as it always had been. I deleted those words, as if they never existed, as if I never felt them, for you and everyone who came before you.

But this isn't the point of what I'm writing now. I've decided to write, endlessly, about you, anyone from my past, or anyone in the future. I won't stop pouring out my feelings until they dry up. That's a decision I've made on my own.

Whether it's about you or someone else, the emotions I experience in any given moment are as real as they can be.

So, with that said, here's to you.

Surprisingly, I don't hate you. Truth be told, I got over you rather quickly. Well, nothing compares to the pain of rejection from a company, but that's a story for another day. I was sad, I must admit. I experienced the usual heart-dropping, tear-inducing feelings that always accompany such moments. I couldn't be alone that night, and you reminded me that I have good friends. Thanks for that, by the way.

You also showed me how mature I've become when it comes to handling my emotions. No more impulsive decisions or foolish declarations of love for someone who clearly doesn't want me. Although it did take a night of knocking on my friend's door with bloodshot eyes, I consider it progress. I accepted what you told me; it was difficult, but I made peace with it. I don't hold any hatred for you.

Were your lies necessary? No, they never are. But that just revealed that you're not perfect; you never were. The idealized image of you in my head shattered instantly, and this time, I'm the one doing the breaking. The thought of being with you no longer occupies my mind – it never should have in the first place. I simply craved love.

This isn't a love letter or a letter of rage; it's just a blog entry.

– ✈️

What exactly takes the pain away? Here I am at 12:41 am attempting to put my pain into words once again. So what does take the pain away? Some would agree it would be death, since life is sometimes just a series of pain over and over again. One might feel like death, but sometimes it might hurt a little less than before. But death isn't an option right now. I don't know why, honestly. Do I feel like it? Yes, but is it wise? Not really. I know deep down I have so much to live for, so much to do, so much to offer to the world. And that, I assume, is in the future. But what about right now? What will it take to alleviate how I'm feeling, right? Friends? Family? Therapy and a two-month prescription for drugs I have to live with for the rest of my life? A feeling that I can't exactly point my finger at. Anger? Betrayal? Loneliness? All of that, and because of what? So many unanswered questions, so few answers. The people in my head better be paying rent because all these thoughts are truly unnecessary.