The So-called-Happiness

10 01 2011




I just finished reading Coelho’s “the Witch of Portobello”.  I’m always amazed by Coelho’s pieces. His words are eloquently arranged that they always take me to different levels of understanding or stir the thoughts that I sometimes forgot I have.

The Witch of Portobello talks about several important things in life: definition of sanity (almost like his other piece, Veronika Decides to Die), changes in life, society and its construction, etc.

One thing that provoked me the most was the very concept of happiness. After I read about Athena’s/Sherine’s (the main protagonist in the book) way of finding her happiness and goal in life, I started to think about how people and how I search for happiness.


Everyone has their own definition of happiness. Most people find it more convenient to follow what the society or other people’s standard of happiness. Along the way, the society becomes more aggressive and they condemn those who stray from the value they have set forth: marriage, having children, good career, famous, etc. People who are born in this world are infected by those norms and eventually forget that it’s one’s own sovereign right and full control to define what makes him/her happy. The road to “happiness” may be full of thorny bushes and blaring thunders. But one may argue that happiness can be as simple as raindrops in the middle of the day, warm fire at during cold nights, gentle kiss, friendly hug, a smile, etc. So what makes your heart leaps and scream of joy? That’s where your start to finding happiness.


The Box

7 01 2011




Singapore, Monday, April 6, 2009 at 2:46pm

I distinctly remember what Bree Hodge from Desperate Housewives said to Susan, her neighbor and her best friend when she’s dealing with emotional issues. What Bree usually do is picturing herself putting all of her emotional problems in a box then store the box in a cabinet. After she store them, Bree will act perfectly and elegantly, just like one of those Stepford Wives and pretend as if nothing happened. When she’s not too occupied with her daily activities and can manage to find a time, she’ll open the box and deal with those issues. She’ll open the box, sort the problems, remember them and deal with each and every one of them.

I tried to do that. And it worked. I put aside all of my personal feelings that made me undergo emotional roller coaster and I just buried myself under assignments, paper works, readings, etc. Everything to keep me me busy and stop thinking about my problems. During that hectic time, the emotion and problem didn’t stop bogging me, but my other responsibility kinda overwhelmed me and made the feeling subsided. Last Friday I just submitted my last paper for this semester. I’m free for at least two weeks until exam (well, I need to study, so actually not that free). After I click the “submit” tab, I felt relieved and I think it’s time to deal with emotional issues.

I’m not really sure if now is the right time to deal with those emotions because, well I’m still a bit haunted with the upcoming exam so not really in mood of dealing with personal issues. But I’ve been keeping the feeling for quite some time now, I need to deal with them before I go home. I have a spare time for now and whether it’s the right time or not, we’ll see.

As I opened the closet and start to uncover the box, I felt the rush of feelings. First it was a gentle breeze tickling my thoughts with the happy memories I had last December. Then the stream started to rumble… As I saw that person’s pictures, the messages that person sent to me and also the fact that the person hasn’t replied my message, I felt dead silence filling my room and my thoughts. Silence was filling my head and heart. I’m tired of hoping. I’m tired of telling to myself and my friends that I’ve moved on. I’m tired on waiting for that person to call me, text me, or whatever way to contact me. Tears didn’t fall as I’m contemplating through my thoughts. I just felt tormented, disappointed, ashamed, hurt deeply… All those joy I had, the tears I shed, the laughter that we had, the smile I saw on that person’s face, the decision I made, the farewell, the waiting, the chats, the anger, the insecurity, all the pain! They are all unbearable. Then I stopped. I just can’t do it.

After all this time, I thought two months were enough, but I’m wrong. Now I’m putting the box inside the cabinet again. I put it far at the behind. I will close the cabinet and walk away with scars all over my chest.

Migration 20.11

3 01 2011


The new blog is set. Next step is migrating some posts from my old blog to this new one. So bear with me on this one. You may not find new stuff for quite some time but I guess reading some old stuff wouldn’t hurt (though some post may be a bit depressing).

So let the migration begins.

Men and Their New "Social Struggle"

3 01 2011

Monday, November 22, 2010



Last Saturday I went to my 1st ever male ‘beauty’ pageant, Mr. International 2010. Yes, it was a beauty pageant for guys (even though ‘beauty’ may not be the most appropriate word). And no, it’s nothing to do with bodybuilding. Well, except for those sculpted abs and biceps, as additions to the gorgeous look. I can’t say the event was not interesting at all. I was practically smiling and giggling throughout the show. And when I add the words ‘swim suit competition’, I bet you all will understand.

Aside from the cute guys lining on the stage, half of Jakarta’s metrosexuals apparently attended the event. Some girls were there, but in a very rough calculation, the ratio of girl to guy was around 1:5. Surprising turnout for a male pageant? I don’t think so. If you’re gifted with the GayDar, then it must had been beeping like crazy there. On that night, looking stunning was not only for the 40 finalists who came from around the globe. If they open the stage for a runway show, the majority of the guests can be on that runway. Even though the invitation said ‘Suit’ as the event’s dress code, you would find it very difficult to see guys wearing cocktail-suit. All you can see were silver/shiny blazer and pants, tight shirt with slim tie, skinny jeans and other clothing that screamed “party time at the club!”. Me? I wore my boring corporate-look black blazer and pants, white shirt with blue streaks, and slim blue tie which I’d taken off before the show began.

After I got back from the show, I kept on thinking about how having good physical appearance is a must for Jakartan guys nowadays (it may not be specific to Jakarta). Jakartan guys are in someway forced to go to gym to get their 6-pack abs, wear fashionable outfits that exemplify their biceps, use fancy grooming products and other efforts to make sure when they walk that mall lobbies, girls (and gays) will turn their head or at least glance at them.

I kinda think that the gay guys have something to do with this new trend.It’s obvious on how gay guys are ‘obliged’ to look good. Hey, it’s a tough market out there and we have to make sure that other gay guys can recognize us, their future lover *wink*, easily in this bustling, ever-moving city. But why is it so about physical appearance? If you’re asking that question, perhaps you haven’t been introduced to a species of Homo Sapiens called men. Men is all about visual. That is just how they were assembled in the factory. That is also why women spent millions of Dollars (yes, Dollars) on their dress, make up, liposuction and Botox since guys look at their boobs and butts, not their eyes. So girls, next time think again if you want to buy expensive mascara and eyeliner. You may want to consider buying some push-up bras. Just a suggestion. And when it comes to gay guys, the “visual” nature becomes stronger since they need to attract their fellow species who are obviously all about visual. That is perhaps the reason of why this new culture all started.

Now the pressure of looking good is not only exclusive to the gay community. The virus has spread to heterosexual guys who are battling their way to get attention from the urban girls. Why so? Well men, both hetero and gay, are subject to the basic law of evolution. Adaptation is an obligation if they are to survive and sustain their existence in the fierce urban competition of lifestyle, social status and sexual pleasures. Girls nowadays don’t only look for guys with kind heart, warm smile and pleasant personality. Aside from thick pocket, high-class status and future financial investment, girls nowadays are looking for guys who look great, physically fit and good in bed. These girls want to make sure when they come to a wedding reception, other girls will mumble “lucky bitch” when they look at the guy holding their hand. Not to mention their gay friends who would totally go bitchy and sarcastic when their girl friend introduce her new sloppy-looking boyfriend who happens to have a PhD. Brain? doesn’t sell. So when people say, “Don’t judge the book by its cover,” they’re actually saying, “I’m not attractive and try to make a excuse of being so.” People judge and they do it in split second when you first meet them., thus proving that looking good is just another part of the current social structure.

Well, on the behalf of the gay community I would sincerely apologize if you, heterosexual guys out there, is living under this great pressure of the new social norm. So, just a tip for you, gays and non-gays: just throw away your baggy jeans and forget that messy-out-of-the-bed look. Jakarta is a jungle. And by jungle I mean it in a Lipstick Jungle kinda way where Zara and Top Man determine who deserve to be on the top of the food chain.

The Question of Identity*

3 01 2011


Friday, December 25, 2009

A couple of days ago, I had a chat with a friend of mine. Out of nowhere I asked her, “have you ever hated yourself, I mean really feel disgusted with yourself?” Shockingly, she said yes. “I don’t know, but I often feel that I’m not pretty. My skin is dark and my hair is like this, not really like other beautiful girls.” Just to picture her a bit, she is this exotic-tanned girl with beautiful wavy hair, uniquely beautiful facial features and a cool sense of style. I was kind of surprised to hear her say that because she’s also a smart girl with a personality, yet she doesn’t feel comfortable in her own skin.

That’s very common thing among youth nowadays. Why does appearance make such a big deal anyway? Arguably they do. It is a big part that contributes to one’s self esteem and identity. People are being judged merely from their appearances on a daily basis and that’s not completely wrong because if you don’t want to be considered as something or someone you don’t want to, then appear appropriately. Nevertheless, the society becomes fiercer. You are what you look. Period.

The conditions that we often call as ‘fashion victim’, ‘dumb blonde’, ‘beef stud’ or even to the extreme as bulimic/anorexic may be the results of this classic ongoing phenomenon of not having a clear identity of oneself. In this case, is it because of our own choice to have a bad opinion of ourselves? Perhaps it is, but what if we are left with no choice but to think that we are never good enough? What if we are shaped by the society to think that way? To think that there is always a standard upon everything and when someone doesn’t fit to the standard, then the person is simply wrong?

Having to ponder about this issue for quite some time, I was reminded of a movie I watched in my Asian Cinema class, Raise the Red Lantern. This is a very beautiful typical art house movie with a very strong Oriental touch. Set in China at the 1930’s, the story revolves around a woman named Song Lian (played by Gong Li) who got married to Master Chen as his fourth wife. Even though she was a university student, she finally succumbs to the reality that she has to be married. When she first arrived to the Chen’s family, she didn’t really care about the family’s tradition and also the competition among Mr. Chen’s wives. As time passes by, the scandals, the pressure and all the tragedy that happen inside that confined little world forces Song Lian to fit in and even made her do things that she regretted in the end.


At the last scene of the movie, Song Lian is shown as being a mentally disrupted person, walking around in the house surrounded by strong and sturdy walls. The interesting part of the movie is how it really portrays the social construction in an extreme and vivid way. Even though the story has a strong sense of feminism, but the value is applicable in the general society. The dull and thick walls of the house represent the mightiness of social construction. When I say social construction, I’m talking about all the standards, customs, set of rules, perceptions, and stereotypes that the society possesses and imposes upon its members. Just like the wall, the social construction is built and stands throughout the ages with minor changes in it. Its pervasiveness forces its member to adhere to the construction and whoever strays, has to bear the consequences. In Song Lian’s case, the consequence is to become what the society considers as crazy. That’s the reality in the jungle. Peer groups, media and even parents perpetuate the idea of having a common standard that one must fulfill in order to live in the society. In shaping one’s identity, role models, friends and general images play a major influence. In most cases, lots of young people are being driven by that influence and also the need to be accepted. Thus throughout the process they lose themselves and become someone that they’re not.

Society construction is also about stereotype and paradigm. Every society has its own set of stereotype labeled upon certain groups inside it. The construction forces the individuals to live according to their set stereotype and when a new person is entering the society then he/she will be assigned to a certain stereotype. Assigned and stuck in it for good. This concept became real for me during a national competition to become a young ambassador for a regional association. One part of the selection is an interview with a panel of judges from a well-known governmental institution. The interview aimed to see the personality and quality of each individual and how they can represent Indonesia. I’m a Chinese-Indonesian and surprisingly all the questions asked are about me being a Chinese-Indonesian. That’s it. This was weird, disturbing and ironic because I consider myself as an Indonesian who is a Chinese descendant, not a Chinese who lives in Indonesia. But from the questions, they didn’t see me as an Indonesian. The most annoying part was when I tried to show the other side of me aside from being Chinese, they shift the discussion again about my being Chinese. “You are different because you are Chinese,” was the sentence they said after I tried to show my quality as an individual. I embrace my ethnicity, I love it, but I don’t want to be seen as simply a Chinese.

It really annoys me because this is the reality in the society. If you have small eyes, fair skin and black straight hair, then you’re identified with being stingy, working a merchant, and only goes to a certain university with computer science or business as your major. The very existence of stereotype is certainly a bad thing because it limits a person room to develop him/herself. It also conveys the shallowness of how one thinks of another as if the real quality of a person subsided under the shadow of stereotyping. And just like a legacy, stereotype is being passed down from one generation to another and become a seems-to-be truism.

With this prevalent circumstance, in the surface people seem to be okay, but the water is bubbling. There are people who demand changes in social perception towards its member. I truly believe that everyone wants to be seen as individuals and not living pieces of meat that only act according to what it is tagged. But with the risk of being socially exiled and considered as deviants, lots of people, youth especially, chooses to live under the cloak and mask that they think will make them get accepted and live their live through the construction. Not to judge, but is that what construe as being a person/individual? Does individuality really that bad? Being comfortable in one’s own skin is indeed not easy. With the self-liberty and true enjoyment of life as the price, does it worth it to swim against the current? You be the judge.

* this article was also published in

Cerita Kolam (sebuah cerpen)

3 01 2011




Langit sore ini terlihat mendung. Padahal tadi siang teriknya matahari sampai membakar tengkukku. Mungkin sebentar lagi hujan. Tapi tak masalah. Aku memang tidak suka berenang di bawah panggangan sinar matahari. Lebih baik seperti ini. Sudah hampir satu jam aku berenang. Setiap satu putaran aku berhenti dan terengah-engah sejenak. Memang sudah lama aku tidak berenang jadi wajar bila setiap kali aku sampai di sisi kolam, napasku berkejar-kejaran. Sekarang aku sedang menikmati duduk di samping kolam. Kedua kakiku ada di dalam air sambil kusepakkan pelan-pelan. Kuperhatikan riak yang ditimbulkan oleh sepakan kakiku; tidak beraturan memang. Aku pun berhenti menggerakkan kaki-kakiku.

Kini kubiarkan mataku menyapu seluruh kolam. Air kolam sore ini memang tidak tenang. Ya wajar saja, ada beberapa orang yang sedang berenang. Tidak ramai memang tapi juga tidak bisa dibilang sepi. Setiap gerakan kaki, sapuan tangan dan liukan tubuh para perenang itu menimbulkan riak. Tiap orang seakan menghasilkan riak yang berbeda. Mataku seakan terpaku pada riak air kolam. Ombak-ombak kecil yang bergulung dan tersusun tak teratur seperti gunung-gunung kecil dengan lembah-lembah di antaranya. Satu gunung runtuh, gunung lain bertambah tinggi. Satu lembah menghilang, lembah lain naik menjadi gunung. Aneh, mengapa aku memperhatikan kumpulan massa air yang bergejolak ini? Aneh memang, tapi aku merasa air ini sedang becerita. Cerita tentang orang-orang yang ada di dalamnya. Tentang mereka yang menyentuh air ini, menghembuskan napas di dalamnya dan membiarkan diri mereka dibalut olehnya.

Di depanku, di tepi seberang sana, ada seorang anak kecil yang terlihat ragu-ragu melompat ke dalam kolam. Di dalam kolam, tak jauh dari si anak, seorang lelaki mengulurkan tangannya ke depan seolah ingin menangkap si anak. Kuperhatikan, jarak si lelaki dan si anak memang tidak jauh, tapi sejauh-jauhnya anak itu melompat, tak mungkin langsung sampai ke pelukan si lelaki yang kutebak adalah ayah si anak. Si anak pun melompat sambil memejamkam mata. Lompatan kecil. Riak airnya sampai ke kakiku. Si anak kini di dalam air. Badannya yang dibungkus pelampung seakan berjuang untuk membantu otaknya mengatasi rasa takut dan mencari cara agar sampai ke pelukan ayahnya. Sang ayah dengan senyum dan suara yang menenangkan mengapai si anak dan memeluknya. Ia tertawa sambil memuji anaknya yang sedikit mengigil dan terengah-engah. Aku hanya tersenyum sinis. Beruntungnya anak itu memiliki ayah yang memujinya, mendorongnya untuk terjun dan lebih penting lagi, ada untuk dia.

Tak jauh dari ayah dan anak itu, ada sekumpulan lelaki muda bersenda gurau di sisi kolam. 5 orang, kalau tidak salah. Yang empat di dalam kolam dan yang satu di atas, di tepi kolam. Menurutku yang di atas kolam cukup tampan. Proporsi badannya sempurna dengan bentukan otot perut, dada, tangan, dan kaki yang terlihat jelas. Celana renang yang dikenakannya pun terlihat mahal. Mereknya yang terkenal terpampang di bagian belakang celana renang itu, seakan berteriak kepada semua yang melihatnya. Tak perlu aku membeli celana renang semahal itu, yang aku pakai sekarang sudah cukup. Si lelaki ini tidak sekali pun menceburkan dirinya ke dalam air. Ia hanya bercanda dan mengobrol dengan teman-temannya. Ketika mereka sedang berenang ke sisi lain, ia sibuk melakukan push-up, sit-up atau gerakan-gerakan olahraga lain yang tidak aku ketahui namanya. Mas, mas, apa yang kau lakukan sekarang tak bisa membuat air itu beriak. Sesekali ia memperhatikan otot-otot di perut, dada, atau tangannya. Sombong benar dia, merasa bahwa kemolekan badaniah adalah yang utama. Orang yang picik dan berpikiran sempit. Banyak orang seperti itu, di jalan dekat rumahku, di tempat kerjaku, di SMA-ku dulu. Mereka yang merasa bahwa maskulinitas adalah yang utama, yang merasa diserang bila ditanya mengenai identitas seksual mereka, yang tidak jelas dipakai untuk apa tubuh dengan pahatan-pahatan itu. Biarlah, biar mereka sibuk dengan dunia mereka sendiri.

Di depanku lewat seorang perempuan muda. Ia berenang dengan penuh keanggunan. Bayangan tubuhnya yang kulihat dari atas air, tercetak indah dengan liukan tubuh bak ikan yang sadar bahwa air memang dunianya. Gerakannya pelan dan santai. Ia terlihat nyaman dan tenang. Baginya air ini adalah dunianya sekarang. Tak peduli apa yang orang lain perbuat atau katakan, sekarang ia hanya ingin berenang. Riak air dari gerakannya sampai ke kakiku. Setelah sampai di sisi kolam, perempuan itu segera mengangkat badannya ke atas kolam dan mengambil handuk lalu membalutkan handuk itu menutupi dada hingga pahanya. Molek benar tubuhnya. Iri aku dibuatnya. Tak mungkin aku punya tubuh semolek itu, karena memang aku bukan perempuan.

Sambil memperhatikan gerak gemulai perempuan itu, mataku tak sengaja melihat seorang kakek yang sedang berenang dekat tempat perempuan tadi naik ke atas kolam. Si kakek berenang sendiri. Gerakannya terlihat kaku dan ragu-ragu. Tiap beberapa gerakan, ia berhenti. Satu tangannya memegang tepi kolam, tangan lainnya mengusap wajahnya yang basah. Kemudian ia berenang lagi dan berhenti lagi. Pelan, tertatih-tatih dan ragu-ragu ia berenang. Biasanya seorang kakek berenang dengan keluarganya. Sambil bermain ia akan mengajari cucunya berenang. Tapi kakek ini sendiri. Riak air dari sapuan tangannya sampai ke kakiku. Ketika riak itu menyentuh kakiku, aku menggigil. Ada sedikit rasa takut, rasa dingin yang menjalar dari kaki sampai ke seluruh tubuh. Aku tidak mau seperti si kakek. Sendiri, lemah dan tidak berdaya di masa tuaku nanti. Tiada teman apalagi keluarga yang menemani. Siapa juga yang mau dengan senang hati menemani orang seperti aku? Uang, mungkin itu yang bisa membuat mereka mau menemaniku nanti di masa tua. Tapi buat apa aku pikirkan masa tua sekarang. Usiaku saja belum genap 25.

Lampu-lampu di sekitar kolam kini dinyalakan. Kulihat jam dinding yang terpajang di dekat ruang ganti di sisi seberangku. Jam 6 rupanya. Cukuplah aku berenang kali ini. Aku harus berangkat kerja sebentar lagi. Malas aku berjalan memutari kolam untuk sampai ke sisi seberang. Kuceburkan saja badanku ke dalam kolam dan membiarkan otakku mengendalikan gerakan tangan, kaki, dan tubuh ini. Aku hanya bisa dua gaya: gaya bebas dan gaya katak. Bebas, karena itulah hidup yang kuinginkan. Bebas dari tekanan orang tua, bebas dari gunjingan tetangga-tetanggaku yang sesayup terdengar tiap kali aku melintas di depan rumah mereka, bebas dari segala bentuk pandangan orang tentang diriku. Ini aku, terserah mereka mau bilang apa. Katak, karena bagaikan hewan kecil itu aku hidup di dua dunia. Di malam hari ku jalani duniaku. Dunia yang menyediakan nasi dan lauk setiap hari di meja makanku. Siang hari aku lewati sambil menunggu malam hari. Hidup sebagai diriku di tengah kerumunan manusia di kota yang padat ini. Tak usah orang-orang siang tahu tentang dunia malamku dan mereka yang kujumpai di malam hari pun tak peduli dengan dunia siangku. Tangan terus kusapukan. Kaki terus kuhentakkan. Sesekali napas kuambil dan kubiarkan diriku meluncur di air yang beriak. Tak tahu aku apakah riaknya sampai ke orang-orang yang berenang di sekitarku. Atau apakah mereka juga peduli dan ikut memperhatikan bahasa air sambil ia beriak dan bergelombang di dalam sebuah kotak biru besar ini.

Akhirnya aku sampai di sisi kolam. Kuangkat tubuhku dari dalam air. Sekali hentakan membuat air mengalir turun dari wajah, bahu, perut, sampai ke jari-jari kakiku. Kukibaskan tangan dan kakiku. Kuusap air dari wajah sambil kuberjalan menuju rak tempat tasku kusimpan. Kusambar tasku dan melangkah ke kamar ganti. Agak besar tas yang kubawa karena aku memang berencana untuk langsung ke tempat kerja setelah selesai berenang. Kini aku selesai berganti pakaian. Malas aku mandi sekarang, nanti saja di tempat kerja. Toh aku pun akan berkeringat lagi saat naik bis kota nanti. Kuperiksa lagi tasku. Gaun hitam, ada. Pakaian dalam berenda yang akan kukenakan nanti, ada. Alat-alat rias, ada. Stiletto, ada. Semua lengkap. Kutinggalkan kolam renang dengan airnya yang beriak itu. Riak yang berbicara dan menceritakan kisahnya.

The Ghost of the Past, the Present and the Future

3 01 2011

Friday, September 18, 2009 at 8:35pm

I was just sitting in front of my desk as I watched every drop of water fell from the cap after the jug was filled with hot boiling water. It was still early in the morning and I needed coffee. I was just looking aimlessly to the jug and not a single significant thought I recalled having at that moment. Nevertheless, I felt a surge of emotion swelling up and filling my chest. It’s the same emotion I’ve been feeling for quite some time. I don’t know whether it’s the same emotion I’ve been suppressing or maybe never even faced it, was it a new set of emotion that resembles the old ones, or was it just the caffeine reaction I had from a big mug of coffee. All I know is the pain was pressing my chest again like I used to experience. I felt anger, rage. I felt disappointment and regret. I felt shame and embarrassment. I felt sad and lonely. F*ck.


After I let my mind go wreaking havoc in its own dimension, I cooled down and pondered why these rush of feelings came uninvited? Was it because of last night’s rendezvous? Was it just an anxiety I felt after meeting my professor? Dunno. The reasons, I guess, are all mixed up and every events happened yesterday took part in building the rage and anxiety. At that moment I, aside from cursing, wished that things can just go back the way they were eight months ago. Make it nine considering it’s almost the end of the month. Nevertheless, as it is utopian, things can never go back the way they were.

That is one of the things I’ve finally learned to realize for the past several months. Hearing that sentence makes me feel like being hit by darts right on the scars I have in my chest. Well, I’m not a really a person who lives in the moment. I linger on past and hold on unto the hopes of the future. Thus, when talking about pasts, the phrase that will often pass through is ‘what if?’. I can’t say that I’m not grateful for everything I have now and also what I had in the past, it’s just… I still feel that I’ve lost the best things I had in life. Love, opportunity, knowledge, time, a lot of things. When I made the decision to go, I thought that when I come back, I’ll just have to adjust myself for a while and then things will go back as the way they were. But they never did.

I hit rock bottom several times trying to revive what I had on the past. I forgot that I have a present to live in and future waited to be filled. It was not easy. Nevertheless, I refused to give in, so did my friends. They refused to see me sink in so deep and finally dragged me back to life. I managed to survive and learn that things will never be the same. I learned to realize that the past will always live and become an inseparable part of me but it’s my choice whether to live in it, linger on it or moving on just like life keeps on going. By going on, it also means letting go. Stuffs that I keep inside the cabinet of my life will clutter it in the end if I still cling on them and not allowing the cabinet to be cleaned.

Life can never be the same. The grand memories I had will never come back again. Nevertheless, it doesn’t mean that the present and especially the future are not worth living in. It will be beautiful and full of excitements. It will teach new things, bring new people, and more great experiences. I’m not living the life that has completely changed inside out. The remains of my past will become a lesson to guide me in choosing my future but will never hamper me from enjoying the present. I’m now embracing my present, thankful for my past and can’t wait to see the future.

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