• Random

    A Picnic that Felt Like Childhood Again

    April 26, 2026

    We are really making the most of the time while our cousin, Ate Laarni, is here in the province. Since everyone is together, of course a picnic by the river had to happen.

    I honestly thought everything was already prepared before we left. I imagined we’d just light the grill, cook the food, and enjoy eating by the river.

    Apparently… I was very wrong.

    Some of us kept going back and forth to the house because we kept forgetting things. One minute someone needed cooking utensils. The next trip was for another ingredient. Then someone realized we forgot something else again. I honestly didn’t know whether to laugh or just shake my head.

    It was such a funny sight.

    We are all grown-ups now—most of us are already in our 40s—but for a moment, it felt like we were little kids again.

    The whole day reminded me so much of the picnics we used to have with my dad. We’d gather by the river, grill food, cook rice over the fire, and eat together surrounded by nature. Those memories came rushing back as we prepared everything.

    It did not feel like decades had passed.

    Now, the difference is that many of my cousins have children of their own running around while we prepare the food.

    As for me… Well, I am still the single one.

    One of the highlights of the day was the fresh tilapia. The fish they caught were cleaned right there by the river—gills and insides removed, washed carefully, and then cooked two ways. Some became a warm fish soup, while the others were grilled over charcoal. We even cooked rice there, just like the old days.

    To make it even more special, Dad’s youngest sibling joined us too. Having everyone there made the picnic feel complete.

    Looking back, I realized I barely took any photos of my cousins or my nieces and nephews. Normally, I’d be walking around with my phone, documenting everything.

    This time, I simply forgot. And honestly, I’m glad I did.

    Instead of looking through a screen, I was fully present. I enjoyed the conversations, the laughter, the delicious food, and the peaceful sound of the river. Sometimes the best memories aren’t the ones we capture in photos—they’re the ones we simply live.

    I do not join family outings very often, so this was a nice change. It reminded me how important it is to say yes once in a while because these moments don’t happen every day. Some memories are not created by expensive plans.

    Sometimes, all it takes is a river, freshly cooked food, people you love, and a day that quietly takes you back to your childhood.

    I’m really grateful I got to be part of this one.

    Read More
  • Future Letter

    To the Man Still Finding His Way to Me

    February 14, 2026

    Dear You,

    Maybe we’ve already crossed paths without realizing it. Maybe you’re living a life completely separate from mine, unaware that somewhere, someone is quietly hoping you’ll exist exactly as you are.

    Or maybe you’re still becoming the man I’ll eventually meet. I wonder what your days look like.

    I wonder if you’ve had your heart broken too. If you’ve questioned your worth. If you’ve stayed awake at 2 a.m. wondering why some people leave without saying goodbye.

    I hope life has been kind to you. But if it hasn’t, I hope it made you gentle instead of bitter.

    Before you came into my life, there were days I questioned if love was still meant for me.

    There were moments when I thought maybe I was simply someone people visited but never stayed for.

    I waited for messages that never came. I replayed conversations in my head. I wondered if I had said too much… or not enough.

    Slowly, I learned that waiting for someone else’s attention is a lonely way to live.

    So while I waited for you—even without knowing I was waiting—I started learning how to choose myself.

    I built little dreams. I found comfort in writing. I learned to enjoy my own company again. I laughed at things that once made me cry. And piece by piece, I became someone I was proud of.

    I hope when we meet, neither of us is looking for someone to complete us. I hope we’re simply two whole people choosing each other every single day.

    When life gets busy, I hope we never stop checking in. Not because we have to. But because we’ll always want to know how the other person is doing. I hope we become the kind of couple who can sit together in complete silence without it feeling empty.

    The kind who laugh over the smallest things. The kind who still hold hands years later. The kind who choose kindness during arguments. The kind who remember that it’s us against the problem—not us against each other.

    Please don’t disappear when life becomes difficult. Tell me you’re overwhelmed. Tell me you need time. Tell me you’re tired. Just don’t leave me guessing. I promise I’ll do the same for you. I don’t need perfection. I don’t need expensive dates. I don’t need grand romantic gestures every day. I just want consistency.

    A “Drive safely.” A “Have you eaten?” A random hug in the kitchen. A smile from across the room.

    Someone who stays. Someone who means what he says. Someone whose actions make me feel safe.

    If you’re reading this someday beside me, I hope you know how grateful I am that our stories eventually found each other.

    Thank you for arriving when the timing was finally right. Thank you for not making me chase love. Thank you for reminding me that healthy love doesn’t feel confusing.

    It feels peaceful.

    And if today we haven’t met yet… I’ll keep living. I’ll keep growing. I’ll keep becoming the woman you’ll be proud to love.

    Take your time.

    I’ll be here, building a beautiful life—not because I’m waiting for you, but because when you finally arrive, I want to welcome you into a life that’s already full of hope.

    Until then, I’ll save a little space beside me.

    Love, The Woman Who Can’t Wait to Meet You

    Read More
  • Future Letter

    From Your Future Healed Self

    June 5, 2025

    Sometimes the weight gets too heavy, and the silence too loud.
    This letter isn’t just words — it’s me reaching toward a version of myself I don’t feel yet, but hope to meet one day.
    She’s stronger, softer, and no longer breaking.

    This is for her —
    and for the me who is trying to get there.

    Hey Self,

Remember where you are right now.

I remember the ache that sat heavy in your chest every morning.

I remember missing him so much it felt like something inside you broke.

I want you to know — you didn’t do anything wrong. You loved in the only way you knew how: fully, honestly, quietly. That mattered.

And even though it hurt like hell to let go, it was an act of self-love you didn’t fully understand at the time. You were choosing peace, even before it felt peaceful.

I won’t lie to you — it took time. Some nights, the missing came in waves. But day by day, your heart softened. You stopped reaching for his name in your notifications. You stopped needing his voice to feel like you mattered.

You found you again. Not the version of you that waited for messages, but the one who smiles without needing a reason. The one who loves softly, but never forgets her own worth.

I'm proud of you. For every tear, every word you wrote, every day you got out of bed. You made it.

And when you're ready, love will find you again — the kind that stays, and meets you where you are.

But for now, just breathe. You're doing better than you think.

I’m here.

Always, Self

    If you’re reading this and you’re hurting too — you’re not alone. Some losses don’t come with closure. Some love doesn’t get to grow. But healing isn’t about forgetting — it’s about finding peace in remembering.
    And maybe one day, we’ll look back at this moment and whisper to ourselves: “Thank you for holding on.” 

    Read More
  • Personal

    That Ride I Thought Would Be My Last

    June 2, 2025

    Today gave me a real scare. I was on my way somewhere when suddenly the vehicle I was riding started swerving. Not just once—but several times. It felt like we were seconds away from tipping over. It was going way too fast for comfort, and I could feel my heart pounding in my chest.

    I froze. My hands were cold, my heart was racing. I looked out the window, and for a moment—just one moment—I told myself:

    “Lord, if this is it… don’t bring me back. Just let it be quick.”

    That thought scared me even more than the ride.

    I kept looking at the driver, trying to make sense of what was happening. There was nothing on the road to avoid. No sudden obstacle. No sharp turn. That’s when it hit me—did he fell asleep? He didn’t brake. He didn’t swerve to avoid anything. It just… happened.

    I tried to stay calm, but I could feel my hands shaking and my breath getting shallow. That kind of fear—the kind where you realize how quickly things can change—really sticks with you.

    What really made it worse is that I am solo in this country. No family, no familiar faces to run to if things go wrong. That moment made me feel how vulnerable I really am here.

    And you know what? I could have said something.
    I could have asked the driver what the hell happened.
    I could have scolded him for risking our lives.
    I could have demanded an explanation.

    But I didn’t.

    I just looked at him and said, “Thank you.”

    Not because he deserved it.
    Not because I wasn’t angry or afraid.
    But because in that moment, I was just grateful to still be standing.

    Read More
  • Poetry

    When I’m Heartbroken

    June 1, 2025

    When I’m heartbroken, I start to write,
    Not for the world, just to feel right.
    I don’t plan it, don’t make it neat,
    Just pour out thoughts I can’t repeat.

    Journals, blogs, and poems too,
    A place to hold what I’ve been through.
    If I don’t let it find its way,
    The weight gets heavier every day.

    Some lines make sense, some just bleed,
    But writing gives me what I need.
    A quiet space, a softer tone,
    To speak the things I feel alone.

    It doesn’t fix the pain I know,
    But gives it somewhere else to go.
    And sometimes that’s the only way
    To make it through another day.

    Read More
  • Personal

    When I Chose Courage Over Silence

    May 31, 2025

    Dear Blog,

    Today, I did something brave. Or maybe something emotional. Or maybe both.

    I sent him a lot of messages… like, five long ones. Yeah, I know — a lot. But when your heart feels heavy and full of things left unsaid, sometimes it just spills over. And that’s exactly what happened today.

    I told him I miss him. That I’ve never really stopped caring, even when things went quiet. I just couldn’t pretend anymore that the silence didn’t hurt.

    So I said what I needed to say — that I don’t want us to drift apart without at least knowing how he feels. Not knowing is a kind of ache that lingers in the background, and I guess I was done carrying that alone.

    At one point, I even asked, “What did you do to me?” Not in a bitter way, just… wondering how someone could leave such an imprint on me without even trying.

    It was vulnerable, raw, and maybe a little too much — but it was real. I told him that if he sees my messages, I hope he won’t ignore them. That if anything I’ve said still means something to him, even just a little, I’d appreciate hearing something. Anything.

    Because silence doesn’t always feel like peace — sometimes it feels like being forgotten.

    And in the last message, I gave him something softer. I know he’s cautious — careful with his heart, with his steps, with people. But I reminded him that life doesn’t always wait for us to feel ready. Sometimes, we miss good things because we’re too afraid to take a chance on them.

    I don’t know if he’ll respond.

    I don’t know if it reached him, or if I just poured my feelings into a quiet void.

    But I do know this: today, I spoke from the heart. And no matter what happens, I won’t regret being honest.

    Because caring isn’t weakness. Sometimes, it’s the strongest thing you can do.

    — Me

    Read More
  • Poetry

    It Was Almost Something

    May 29, 2025

    It wasn’t love—
    not the kind with promises,
    not the kind that stays.
    But it was something.

    A glance that lingered,
    a message that made me smile,
    a voice I wanted to keep
    like a favorite song
    I wasn’t ready to forget.

    For a while,
    it felt like we were building
    something quiet,
    something real.

    Then came the silence—
    not loud, not cruel,
    just slow.
    Distant.

    And I didn’t know how to hold on
    to something slipping
    without a sound.

    I miss you.
    Not because we had everything—
    but because we almost did.

    And sometimes,
    it’s the almosts
    that hurt
    the most.

    Read More
  • Future Letter

    Dear Self

    May 29, 2025

    I wasn’t sure if I should share this. It’s personal. Raw. Still a little tender.

    But maybe someone out there needs to hear it — to know they’re not alone in the quiet ache of a connection that didn’t become what they hoped.

    Dear Self,
  
I know how you feel, and I am sorry for causing you this pain.
  
We’ve been very cautious these past years, guarding ourselves, healing, slowly learning how to trust again. But this time… we let someone in. We gave him a piece of us — a piece we’ve never shared with anyone else. It was real. And it mattered.
  
But now here we are… heartbroken by how things unfolded.
  
The connection was there. We felt it. We weren’t imagining it. But somewhere along the way, it started to fade — slowly, quietly. And we were left trying to understand a silence that never gave us answers.
  
We don’t know exactly what changed. Maybe he pulled away. Maybe we leaned in too much. Maybe it just wasn’t meant to grow.
  
We can’t blame him, not fully. Maybe he didn’t know what to do with the kind of love we were ready to give. Maybe we misunderstood his warmth and gave meaning to gestures that meant something different to him than they did to us.
  
And that’s okay.
  
What we gave came from a pure place. It wasn’t foolish — it was brave. Loving, even in uncertainty, is never something to regret.
  
So now, dear self, I know you're hurting. I know you’re reliving moments, re-reading messages, and wondering what if.
  
But I promise you: this pain won’t last forever. One day, this won’t feel like the end of the world. It will feel like a chapter that helped you grow — and soften — without breaking you.
  
You are still whole. You are still worthy. And you will love again.
  
With patience, Me

    Healing doesn’t happen all at once. It’s messy, slow, and often silent. But writing this helped me start to move through it — to remind myself that loving fully, even when things don’t last, is still something to be proud of.

    If this letter speaks to something in you, I’d love to hear your thoughts. Or just know you’re not alone — even if you don’t say a word.

    Read More
  • Random

    Where We Met, Where We Drifted

    May 28, 2025

    We met in Dark War Survival game
    Through an alliance lost to night.
    Yet memories of our firsts remain,
    Playing side by side, through joy and pain.

    You reinforced my base with care,
    A quiet trust was in the air.
    We moved alliances, then it drifted apart,
    You moved on—I stayed, with a hesitant heart.

    Should I have followed where you went?
    A question I’ve often quietly spent.
    You moved again and called me near,
    But stayed for another week.

    Now we share the same alliance once more,
    But the bond we had is not as before.
    I’ve deleted Dark Wars, closed that door,
    Yet in my heart, I still want more.

    Read More
  • Personal

    Just Me, Being Real

    May 26, 2025

    Hey Blog,

    Here I am again.

    Just wanted to write and let a few things out. Lately, I have been feeling a mix of everything—busy on the outside, but lowkey messy on the inside. You know that feeling when life keeps moving but your emotions are kind of stuck? That is where I am at.

    I have been keeping myself occupied—doing things I need to do, trying to stay productive. On paper, everything looks okay. But inside? There’s this weird heaviness I cannot shake off.

    Jealousy.

    Yeah, I said it.

    I do not usually get jealous—not in a loud, dramatic way. But I have been feeling it quietly, deeply. That kind of jealousy that does not even show, but eats at you a little. And it is not even about wanting to have what others have… it is more like wishing I did not care so much.

    I see things. I notice the closeness. The way someone lights up when they talk to other people—and suddenly, I feel like I’m just… there. Not invisible, but not chosen either.

    I hate feeling like this. Because I know it makes me seem weak or insecure, but that is not it. I just care. Maybe more than I should. And when I care, I get affected. Simple as that.

    So yeah. That is what I have been up to— trying to look fine while quietly dealing with feelings I did not really ask for.

    I am not mad. I am not even sad all the time. I just feel… a little off. A little left out. A little too much sometimes, and not enough other times.

    But maybe that is okay. Maybe this is just part of figuring life and emotions out.

    Thanks for being here again, Blog.

    You are my quiet space when I cannot really say things out loud.

    — Me

    Read More
error: