Saturday, 22 January 2011

• A: I realized you like to go into deep thought. You’re the kind that thinks a lot.

  Me:  I don’t know. (Well, I do like to space out some of the time and think of something else out of the topic. Maybe I have so many things in mind that are waiting for me to solve them.)

  A: I’m curious what you are thinking most of the time.

  Me: I don’t know. (I too want to know)

   

                  So many things happened in my university life. It’s so dramatic than I ever imagined. There was so much joy, so much sadness, so much conflict, so much surprise, so many unknown, and so many choices.  I want to become stronger, I want to take more challenge, I want to solve more problems, I want to learn managing, I want to give advice, I want acknowledgement , I want critics, I want to become better.

                  The more I learn, the more I see, the more I realize every single thing in life is an opportunity for me to learn, for me to grow, for me to understand. I’ve taken up so many challenges until there are not many empty slots left in my timetable. I feel like my bedtime is getting lesser day by day when I realize time plays a crucial role in this learning process. Life can be so short and meaningful and it can be so long and meaningless.

                  Maybe that’s one of the reasons I spent time unwinding, reorganizing, processing what I have in mind.

   

                  I always tell myself to be tough, be discipline, be good, be great etc because I want to be a role model for my brother and sister, not to make my elders worried, want to influence others telling them this is not hard. But in the end when I’m sad, when I’m pressured, I’ll cry without anyone seeing, I’ll shout without anyone hearing,

                  I tried to continue with my life like normal after something sad had happened. I want others to treat me normally like they used to be. But in the end, it hurts to hear, it hurts to see, it hurts to think. It hurts so much it’s like stabbing a fork right into my chest. I don’t know how to react. I think it’s obvious my expression changed. I still can’t get it over.

   

  B: Can you imagine telling your dad how you do that?

  Me: … (I wasn’t sure who is he referring to but it felt like shattered glass flowing into your heart).

   

  If I’m writing this on a paper, I think no one will be able to read the last line. It will be blurred.  

  I miss him so much.

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