How and Where I Want to Die.

I feel good.

The kind of good that someone feels after reading a book, especially a good book, and I just did. I just finished reading “Words In Deep Blue” by Cath Crowley like thirty minutes ago. I actually have to post a book review on Goodreads and on my new blog site intended only for book reviews and other bookish stuffs, but I spent the last 30 minutes munching peanut butter sandwich rolls(which I made) and THINK.

And I am STILL thinking…

“Words in Deep Blue” made me think, this book did. I won’t talk about what I think ABOUT the book but rather what I think BECAUSE of the book.

There’s this part that sadly, I need to paraphrase to avoid giving spoilers about the book. Here it is:

“He died in a place he loved the most. It was quick, it would have been. And the last thing he did before he died is for someone he loves.”

NOTE: No, the novel hasn’t a tragic ending. And I give all the credit to Ms. Crowley for every part of the book that I used here, and even the mere mention of it. 🙂

Anyway, what have I been musing about after finishing the book?  It’s my Death. Here’s the thing about people like me who have been diagnosed with Clinical Depression, and let’s not forget, Anxiety Disorder: Death is a word constant to us, as constant as LIFE itself.

Personally, death has always been there; at the sideline, sometimes behind me, sometimes ahead of me. the point is, it’s always WITH me. I hate to compare LIFE with DEATH but I couldn’t help thinking or acknowledging the fact that Death like Life is always present.

Death is never absent in my life. (Somebody tell me please, what figure of speech I just used.) Maybe it’s kind of a paradox that have been solved. Life is the absence of Death. And Death is the absence of Life. Yet, they coexist.

Moving on…

Death will happen to me. Intentionally or otherwise, I will die. But tonight I made a very important decision:

I WON’T JUST DIE!!!!!!!!!!!!

I will die in a place I love, doing the things I love, and doing them for the people I love.

But what do I love? Oh I know this since forever. I love Reading and Writing.

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Maybe it’s nobler to say that what I love is making people happy, instead of mere Reading and Writing, but making people happy is something I’ve been doing not by choice, it is something I do, and love doing because it’s in my being. It’s what makes me human. I’d be still be doing it even if I choose to do it, or simply if situation demands.

So Reading and Writing then. It’s okay if I die either of the two. It’s okay if I die while reading the worst book ever written. It’s not the book, it’s reading itself that matters. It’s okay if I’m not writing a masterpiece of Literature while having my last breath, as long as I’m writing.

Ah what a good time to die…

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And where? I think any place where I can read or write is a place I’d love. It would be  a perfect place.

And how, one may wonder, am I doing this for the people I love? Well, when I die, they wouldn’t be THAT sad. As simple as that actually. Most of us know the agony, how hard it is when a loved one dies. Most often we have regrets. A death of a loved one is one of the most severe causes of regrets. I don’t want this to happen upon my death.

Thus, I’ll die happily. It would surely make the people I’ll leave behind sad,  but it wouldn’t be the kind of sad with regrets. They won’t regret losing me if they know I died happily.

I’m doing this for myself as well because I consider myself as one of the people I love. No matter how shitty I often think of myself, I still love ME. I choose to love myself, still.

And maybe I wouldn’t feel this way tomorrow. Maybe tomorrow, I’ll feel shitty again and suicidal. But I don’t to be bothered by that possibility. What matters is tonight. Tonight, I feel good and I want to record it for future use. 🙂 Tonight, I love myself, enough to make a decision, choosing to do something that makes me happy until the day I die.

LIVING HAPPILY,

LILI MARCUS 🙂

 

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Inner Demon

DEMON’s LIES:

‘You can’t do it.’ ‘You’re not good enough.’ ‘You don’t have what it takes. ‘You’re not gonna make it.’

Familiar with those lines? Yes?  Most often, we hear these lines from other people but sometimes, WE say them to ourselves. It’s our ‘Inner Demon’ that makes us say those words.

I’m turning 25 this coming June, and somehow, I can feel the pressure again. I am not getting any younger!!! Yet it seems that I’m still too far to where I want to be.

I want to be a famous writer. And obviously, I’m still not.

Peers, family members, friends and fake friends are now wondering if I really can do it.  The thing is, they’ve been wondering the same thing ever since I dropped the bomb to everyone saying I AM FOCUSING ON WRITING NOW. That was two years ago, and I’m still me, MERE ME.

It’s easy to give in to pressure and get depressed about it but I learned one very important lesson some while ago – the key to one’s success isn’t about proving, or showing, to people that you can, but it’s all about overcoming yourself. Because, at the end of the day, what other people say to me wouldn’t matter, it’s what I tell myself that has great importance.

My Inner Demon is my greatest enemy. For how can I win over others when I can’t even win against my own? How can I prove to others what I can do if I don’t prove myself first of what I’m capable of. How can I show them what I can if I don’t even know what I can, right?

The problem is, my inner demon wouldn’t leave me alone. It’s always there. It’s in my heart, igniting the grief caused by my past failures. It’s in my mind, a pesky, little voice that never stop talking negative, causing me to wallow on self-pity and my self-confidence declining.

Demons are always present. Not just the inner ones. And I’m saying this, not just as a devout Christian, but as a dreamer who is still in this huge endeavor that’s been going on since forever and as a human being who clearly isn’t perfect yet a total perfectionist.

Inside me is this demon I unintentionally allow to dwell. I don’t think I can ever lose this inner demon. No matter what I achieve, and however I did things, this inner demon will always tell me I CAN’T DO IT.

How did I know this?

Because, I know I am not a total failure. I wanted to be a famous writer. I may not be famous (YET) but I am a writer. ALREADY A WRITER. I’m getting nearer to where I’ve always wanted to be. I’ve written several novellas and I have a novel that’s already in deliberation for publication. And i am currently working on a Screenplay (I’ll talk about this in another post). My point I already accomplished something which is actually quite a ‘big thing’ for all aspiring writers, yet does my inner demon stopped talking?

No. There is still this voice inside my head telling me the same negative things I’ve been hearing since forever. No kidding. It didn’t go. Sometimes I wanna yell at my reflection in the mirror so it would shut up. Maybe this is just me talking crazy. I AM CRAZY, by the way!!! But I”m sure all of us, dreamers have this voice in our heads telling us all the negative things possible, crushing our spirit.

I can’t say I made this demon inside my head, that I am responsible for its existence, maybe I do, but the point is, it’s already existing and it will take too much for them to disappear.

But I learned this trick. If this demonic voice decided to stay with me, like forever, well fine. If I can’t get rid of it, I’ll just learn to deal with it in the most effective way I know to intimidate an enemy-SMILING!!!
Yep, I’ll smile. because it’s what I’m good at (aside from writing..lol). I’m that kind of person who deserves the MOST CHEERFUL AWARD in school or in office. I rarely get an enemy. I rarely find myself in misunderstandings. But whenever someone try to annoy me, sabotage, or whatever insecure people do to others, I smile. It’s the most effective payback. It annoys them when they see me smiling no matter what they do to crush me.

That’s what I do with my inner demons, whenever I hear the voice telling me I can’t do it, I’m not good enough or I’ll never make it, I just smile. I’m not befriending them. I just say hi to my demons (inner and the others) and do what I should be doing which is writing.

This inner demon might do and say everything it can to pull me down and crush me, well, it’s best is not enough. Because no matter what happens, I might fall and fail sometimes, I’ll still get back up and do what I was born to do. I’ll still write no matter what happens around me, no matter what other people say and no matter what I tell myself.

Did I already mention that there are more familiar terms synonymous to demons?

DOUBT…and inner demon is SELF-DOUBT.

FEAR, Maybe…

Keep going even though you can’t seem to walk anymore. You can crawl. But don’t let Doubt or fear stop you and glue you in the same place you were yesterday. You may hear your inner demon saying all negative stuffs but can’t listen to it. Keep going, you’ll get there soon.

That’s what I’m doing. I know that if I wait for the demons to shut up before I do something, I will never ever reach my destiny. My greatest fear is to wake up one day, realizing that life has already passed me by. Sometimes, the best way to deal with adversaries is to get used to them, then know their weak point. And then, it will be easier to ignore them as days pass.

No one, not even God, promised that life is beautiful and easy. We have to deal with it in it’s cruelty.

Smiling to demons (and annoying them);

LILI MARCUS

Yesterday, Today, Tomorrow

Yesterday, today and tomorrow are all now.

‘I wish I can go back and change things’

I’m pretty sure we’ve all desired the same thing. Maybe some wished it openly, some kept it to themselves. We all have regrets. We all have a thing or two(maybe more) in our past that we would want to change if given a chance. But the problem is, there will never be a chance to change them. Because no one will ever give us that chance. Not even God. God will and is capable of giving chances but NOT to change the past, but to ensure that the future won’t end up like the past.

We all heard that phrase, ‘Past is past’ and agreed that it is true. But no one really accepted it as easy as nodding. Moving on is one of the hardest things on earth, next to forgiveness, in my opinion. But I want to share this little mantra of mine. I want to call it a mantra, deal with it, friends, please.

Yesterday, today and tomorrow are all NOW!!!

“Another chapter in the book cant go back but you can look
And there we are on every page
Memories I’ll always save
Up ahead on the open doors
Who knows what were heading towards?
I wish you love I wish you luck
For you the world just opens up
But it’s so hard to say goodbye                                                                                                               Yesterday’s gone we gotta keep moving on”

These lines are from I’ll Always Remember You by Miley Cyrus. She sang that as Hanna Montana. And yes, I’m a Hannah Montana girl. We actually share the same age and that’s irrelevant here.

Moving on, the song talks about the past, memories that will be saved in one’s heart. But the singer doesn’t say that she’ll stay with those memories, but will keep moving on, because there are open doors waiting for her.

I realized that memories can stay but WE can stay in the memories. Let me rephrase that: We can choose not to forget our past, the good parts and the bad ones, but we shouldn’t stay living IN those memories.

The song says, can’t go back, but you can look. Going back is actually not possible but looking back is. That’s why I have this belief that my past, my future and my today are all NOW. My present defines my future but it also reflect what my past is.

Since going back is not an option, why not we just look, took a glance on what had been to make sure that what will be will be better than what is. Confused already? I’m saying that we get whatever useful from our past and use it now for the sake of our future.

We’ve been told to focus on NOW and make the most of the time. And that’s right but we should be careful, if we do just that-make the most of the present- we are likely to make the same mistakes we did, intentionally or unintentionally. We should be more careful now, vigilant and wiser.

Once in a while, why don’t we open that door of the past and took a glimpse before we enter into another open door that leads to our future. We should look at what’s inside that door and observe, learn and decide what we should do once we enter another door.

Our Today  should be a combination of our yesterday and our tomorrow. Our past is important because it’s our teacher. We should learn from our experiences. Our future should be a testimony of what we’ve learned from our past and that will depends on whatever we are doing NOW.

Another thing, if we do nothing but focus on now, wouldn’t it be so boring? I say we look into our future, get a glimpse of it as we should do in our past. We can’t get there now, but we can always get excited about it. Get vision of tomorrow and that’s one great motivation. If we’re not excited about tomorrow, about waking up the next morning, then why on earth are we still here for? Right?

I had this teacher in first grade who taught me of spelling because I suck at it. I’m still not good at it. I was about to compete in an English quiz bee and she thought I should be good with spelling too. So spelling was part of my training before the contest. Once, she had me spelled ‘FUTURE’ and I spelled it as ‘FEWCHUR’. I mean, I did know that time how to spell ‘FEW’ and CHUR was kind of easy to spell.

She laughed at me, the kind of laugh that is loving. The kind that mothers give to their little children when they stumble when they’re still learning how to walk. Anyway, instead of teaching me the right spelling, she told me that I can just spell ‘FUTURE’ as N-O-W.

I never understood why she did that until I’m old enough to understand life itself. She wanted me to see that my future is now. And she is right.

Now I have this chance to share something to people and if I’m going to steal my teacher’s style, I’d say, from now on, spell PRESENT as P-A-S-T-F-U-T-U-R-E.

Then, now and forever grateful,

Lili

What I Say When I’m Not Speaking

 

I did it again.

It happens to me once in a while. I won’t speak a word for hours and people can count the words I utter in the entire day. I’m not sure if my family, or friends, notice it but I’ve been battling depression. Maybe they notice I’m acting weird but they will never know why.

I am not speaking anyway. But, aside from I AM NOT OKAY, I want to tell them these:

1. STOP TALKING TO ME

I want to yell. I want to scream. And screaming or yelling isn’t talking so it’s better if I don’t open my mouth at all. When I do, it’s like snapping and they wouldn’t like that. I live in a country where depression is being ignored. I don’t know if it’s intentional but people around me are just judgmental, or maybe that’s just what I see. But if I snap at someone, I know what would they say, I’m a snob and unpleasant.

2. THIS ISN’T MY FAULT

Maybe it is, but that’s not what I feel. Stop blaming me. I want to talk. I want to be chatty like I normally do. But I just can’t. This is not my choice. When I try speaking while not being snappy, I feel like crying. So it’s better if I don’t just talk even if I want to. I can’t control it. People see me as a strong person and look at me as if nothing can break me down but there is.

3. MY BRAIN SUCKS

No one will agree. My friends consider me as their adviser. Maybe because I’m a writer and seriously, writers know what to say every time, in every situation. What they don’t know is that I hate my brain. It’s unfair. I get to say the right words to other people but not to my self. This seems like self-pity but self-pity is easily curable, my state isn’t. It’s as if inside my brain there is an old insecure friend that keeps coming back. Or like an ex-boyfriend who just can’t move on over me. It’s f*cking annoying.

4. STOP TELLING ME I SHOULD UNWIND

I’ve tried that. I grew up in a country and I’ve watched the sunset thousand times, even the sunrise. I’ve watched birds flying under the blue sky and above the blue sea. I’ve breathed the freshest air there was in my place. It’s not that easy. What works for others might not work for me. Unwinding might have just worsen it since hello, depressed people hate life, and when I step out of my room, that’s what I see-Life.

5. THIS ISN’T MIGRAINE

It is curable, they say. Then why am I still like this? I really hope those pills work. Or those blog posts that says ‘ten ways to overcome depression’ works. They don’t. If I would be given a chance I would pluck out that old friend in my brain and kill it. It isn’t easy. It isn’t migraine that I can just sleep it off, or take some capsule.

6. I’M BEING SELFISH, I KNOW

I can’t help it, I’m sorry. When I’m depressed it feels like I just want everyone to understand ME. I hate it that they don’t care. Why wouldn’t they care? Can’t they see? The thing is I know it’s not their fault either. I’m just being cynic. And now I feel like I am not the friend or family they deserve. It’s better to die.

7. I’M TIRED(EXHAUSTED EVEN)

Let me rest. Seriously, it’s not just my brain, my heart is tired, my body is exhausted. I am drained. I don’t know what to do. It feels like all my enthusiasm and motivation are all gone. Know why depression leads to self-mutilation? Because we want to feel anything physically. Because we are so tired inside. Or sometimes, we’re too tired we became numb and we want to feel SOMETHING. I don’t know how to explain this but all I want to do is resting. LET ME REST PLEASE. I AM BEGGING.

8. I WANT TO KILL SOMEONE AND THAT SOMEONE IS ME

I’ve been battling depression since I was young. And it’s a miracle I am still alive. I always feel like my life isn’t worth it. My life is not important. I don’t have a value so what’s the point. I want to stop feeling all these. I want to die. The first time I cut myself was when I was twelve. Luckily, the blade I got was a little rusty and blunt so I didn’t succeed cutting any deadly vein. The scars on my wrists almost faded now, but the reason why I did it, is still very much alive. I want to die.

Please, if you have someone you love who’s battling with depression, make them feel loved and accepted. THEY, WE, NEED IT MORE THAN OTHERS. Give them more attention, a little unfair but it’s not their fault. Depression isn’t something that we can leave at home or keep at our closet. It’s with us, whether we like it or not. It’s like a leech that crept on our skin sometime long ago and never left us. Just sucking every bit of us and it feels like it won’t leave until it sucks nothing anymore. Until we’re dead.

Hope I’m wrong in that last part…

I don’t have a phone number or anything anyone can call when they need someone to talk to. I just stop asking for help a long time ago.

But if you want, you guys can reach out to me. I’m still battling with depression but there are times I’m fine. And like I said, I always know the right words to say to other people but not to myself. So I can give advise. And I think the only people who can understand someone with depression are the ones experiencing it too. Let’s help each other.

SPEAKING:

LILI

Spilled Coffee

liliswordyplanet

What do we do when we spilled our coffee?

I know, it should be spilled milk. But I don’t drink milk so I’m just gonna go with coffee since it has been my companion since I was a little kid. And I am too familiar with coffee stain and it has, somehow, got to do with what I’m going to share.

Spilled coffee and stains. (Haven’t heard of milk stain anyway.)

We all make mistakes, don’t we? We’ve been done wrong by others, haven’t we? But whether it’s our fault or not isn’t the issue I’m going to stress here. Intentional or not, who cares? Instead, let me ask you what you do when you make mistakes?

I often hear that we can identify one’s maturity through his/her decisions. I’m sorry but I disagree. Our maturity shows not on the decisions we make but on how we deal with the…

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Spilled Coffee

What do we do when we spilled our coffee?

I know, it should be spilled milk. But I don’t drink milk so I’m just gonna go with coffee since it has been my companion since I was a little kid. And I am too familiar with coffee stain and it has, somehow, got to do with what I’m going to share.

Spilled coffee and stains. (Haven’t heard of milk stain anyway.)

We all make mistakes, don’t we? We’ve been done wrong by others, haven’t we? But whether it’s our fault or not isn’t the issue I’m going to stress here. Intentional or not, who cares? Instead, let me ask you what you do when you make mistakes?

I often hear that we can identify one’s maturity through his/her decisions. I’m sorry but I disagree. Our maturity shows not on the decisions we make but on how we deal with the consequences of our decisions.

Once, I spilled my coffee in a book I was reading. Worse, it was a John Grisham novel. If you know me, you’d know, I love books more than any non-living thing in this world, and that I love John Grisham because the first novel I’ve ever read (when I was barely eight) was written by him.  So needless to say, that book I was reading is a treasure for me.

And I spilled coffee on it.

I freaked out. I screamed ‘Sh*t’ countless times while my mind tries to process what to do with it. But I just stood there, staring at my book, freaking out and had no idea what to do next. Then my mother came into my room, uttered an ‘oh my god’ and then left. But after a minute or so, she came with two pieces of cloths(maybe they were rags or something). One was wet. The other was dry.

Before I knew it she was already patting the wet page with the dry towel, sapping the excess coffee. Next thing she did was using the wet(slightly wet) cloth, as if to wipe the coffee stain away. She was very careful as she did that part since she knows how I treasure my books. Then she took the book in front of the fan and let it dry. I, then, stopped freaking out.

Good news is the book survived. Bad news is the coffee stain remains until now. I still have the book but I already bought a new copy because I want my books clean. Anyway, what’s with my story?

I was entirely immature. Though it wasn’t my decision that my coffee spilled, the coffee was my choice. If it was milk, I could’ve just dried it off and there would be no stains. Another thing was, I freaked out instead of dealing with it right away. What if I did what my mother did as soon as the coffee spilled. Maybe there would be no stains, or it would be paler. Maybe only few pages would’ve get stained.

Foolish me.

Most of the times, in life, we act like that. We freaked out, sometimes we get overwhelmed with what happened instead of dealing with it right away. We waste time. And time when wasted is forever wasted. And while stalling, wasting time, little do we realise, we’re letting the used-to-be little consequences grew bigger. And thus, they are harder to deal with.

We are all going to make mistakes, wrong decisions, from time to time, we can’t stop people from doing wrong to us and we can never avoid those seemingly unfortunate circumstances that came into our life. But we can always choose to do the right thing once these things happen to us. We can never make things back to what they originally were, but we can lessen the damage.

Mistakes happen so we can learn. When we make mistakes, we don’t have to be hard on ourselves. Let’s think of it as an opportunity for us to be teachers. Only, the students are ourselves. Isn’t that great?

When others do us wrong, forgive. I won’t say forget, because come on, it’s one hard thing to do. And we don’t have to forget the wrong things done, since they are usually the ones that teach valuable lessons. We just have to let go of hatred and all other emotions that go with it. But we don’t forget what happened, it can be our references in time.

One more thing, instead of uttering useless craps (like what I did), why don’t we start using our voices asking for help? We can always find someone who can help us. We are never alone. If you believe otherwise, then you’re mistaken. I’m sorry, but that’s just the truth.

Our mistakes will leave us stains, and sometimes it would be a painful reminder of our foolishness. But if it can remind us how foolish we were, it can motivate us to do better now. To be smarter!!!

DRINKING COFFEE and trying not to spill it,

Lili

Peculiar Storytellers

We all are. So maybe you won’t believe me. We may not be aware but storytellers dwell within us. We all have stories to tell anyway.

I started writing since I was nine. I used to write poems. They weren’t just poems, they were narrative poems. So even then, though I was too young, I knew I was already telling stories. The problem is no one ever get to read those poems.

My stories were never heard or read. And that makes me sad, even now. It was my fault though. I couldn’t just bring my works to be read by other people. I didn’t have a bit of confident about it. I used to looked upon writers, famous writers, and tell myself, wish I’m as good as they are on telling stories.

And man, do I regret it. I should’ve let other people read my stories so long ago.

I was a child, of course I wasn’t as good as those writers. Now, I’m not a child anymore, and still not as good as they are. But do I just keep my stories hidden? No way. I will tell my stories whenever I want, in any way I want. Because this is my story. Mine.

I’m a writer by heart so maybe that’s why I’m romanticising the idea of everyone as storytellers. And it’s easier for me to say this because my dream is this-to tell stories until the day I die.

How about those other people who have never written a single story in their lives?

I have a confession to make. This post was originally for Taylor Swift. The title would’ve been-TAYLOR SWIFT: A Peculiar Storyteller. But for some reason, I changed my mind. But I’m going to make her an example anyway.

I’m her fan. But I’m one of her most peculiar fan. I don’t like her just because she sings great. I love her because she tells her story. (Plus, she won a National Poem contest when she was fourteen.) Anyway, she’s an award winning singer now. But maybe not everyone will say she’s the best. Guess what, she knows it. But that doesn’t stop her from singing her stories. She’d been bashed too many times for her stories(love stories) but she still does it and nailing it, I might add.

What I’m just trying to say is that you don’t have to be a writer to tell your story. You don’t have to be the best to tell the world who you are. If you can, then sing your stories. If you can paint or draw, then draw them. If you don’t know where you’re good at, just speak. Open your mouth, make a gesture, anything you can do just to let the hidden stories inside your chest get out.

Don’t keep them hidden.

Your story could be the simplest, most boring story you know. But other people might not see it that way. For some people, your story might be the best story they’ll ever know. For some people, your story could be the encouragement they’ve been waiting for. Or the lesson they need to learn.

Your story might be the next bestseller. Or the next blockbuster. You’ll never know. Okay, maybe you don’t want your story to be heard by many. Then tell it to a friend, to a family, to a stranger. But do tell.

Or you can tell it to God. He’s the best listener anyway. He’ll be interested in whatever story you will tell.

I have this habit I’ve been doing for three years now. In my closet there is a small round mirror that I personally put there. Every morning, I would look at my reflection while I talk to God. It’s not really praying. Every morning I would tell God what I want to do and accomplish the whole day. It’s like telling God what story I would want other people to hear from me today.

It’s like telling an editor what story I’m going to write next.

And each evening I would look at that mirror again. This time, I’d tell God what happened the whole day. And usually, they’re different from I told him earlier in the morning. It’s like telling your editor, the flow of the story you’ve written changed course. And nothing is wrong with that.

Maybe the stories you’re keeping inside your head and chest aren’t exactly the ones you’ve ever wanted. Maybe you are embarrassed of those stories. Maybe they are bad stories. Or maybe, they’re simply aren’t great stories.

But I dare you to tell them any way. I dare you to step out of the dark and make yourself known to the world. Stop hiding. Stop thinking that no one will listen or read you story. Stop thinking that no one will ever be interested in you.

I get it. You think you’re not as good as everybody else so your story don’t matter. But you, being different than they are, is what actually matters. We are all different. So in any you want, do share yourself. And that’d make you peculiar. And that’s why, someone, if not the whole world, will listen to your story. Stop listening to the voices in your head that says you don’t have what it takes to be somebody.

You matter. Your story matter.

Do tell your story. Do tell your dreams so someone can help you. Do tell your fears so someone can be there for you. Do tell your embarrassments so you’re not laughing alone (that would be creepy).

I can say that this is not my best blog post. Actually, right now, I feel like I didn’t really make my point clear. I feel like I still have many things to say, because actually there are. I feel like this post was forced and not brilliantly. and I want to apologise for that. I’m not a great writer. I’m not the best at sharing my heart.

But I guess, the good thing is, I shared a piece of me to you. Now it’s your turn to tell me your story. Tell me something, anything. I’m interested.

🙂 🙂 🙂

Just told a story,

Lili