English · My Chaotic Philosophy

me, my incapability to control my emotions, and my limbs who seems likely have their own minds.

i dont know how long have been i stare at this google sheet, yet my work hasnt been done. for these 4 or maybe 5 hours, im not even sure what is exactly ive been doing on that spare of time, because i cant get anything done.

the same case goes for my personal projects too. i put them on hold for somehow feels like just a week long but it actually happened around 3 weeks long and before i know im getting late on everything and catches up for everything. yet i cant manage to catches everything up, i just cannot seems able to.

the merely friends that exist in my life seems like just my very dear workmate friends. not that im not happy tho, but living in this age where everyone seems to have their life altogether and getting out there with their own life, it feels very lonely tho, but as i stare on my phone, im surprised to the fact that i am the one who shut myself out from any form of social contacts because i cant bear to talk to anybody. phone calls? video calls invitation? friend’s wedding invitation? asking for hanging out? chats? on whatsapp? on my ig dm? on telegram? too much, too noisy. i cant bear. yet i cant bear to be alone also. confusing.

this is not the kind of slowing down that the therapist, or any people in that matter, suggesting. this slowing down phase that not do the body and soul good. this the kind of slowing down because you are, in any way, rusted and broken, not because you intent to giving yourself some rest.

body, get up! no.

body, write that shitty captions RIGHT NOW! no.

body, just, please, working out! no.

brain, for once, please make yourself useful! you bet.

well i should get my job done, i paid for it, i have to be professional. guess what? no. my brain freeze and my body seems to refuse anything that i order to. i might not be as professional as before. and all i want to do in my life is to do nothing. lying in my cold, dark bedroom, and questioning all the wrong thing that happened in the life itself. who cares if my job doesnt meet the end?

i think something is broken and lost inside of me, and by that, also my willing to living the life.

English · My Chaotic Philosophy

Of all the things in the world, i love stars the most.

“A warrior dont have a victim mentality.”

I read that verse everytime i open my notion homepage. And i open my notion more than 5 times a day. And its written on the top of my homepage. But believe it or not, that affirmation wont diffused into me, at all.

Actually, im not sure anymore. Maybe tho i affirm myself as a strong person, or might pretend to be strong, i actually have a victim mentality deep down inside of me.

I know i find comfort inside chaos, sadness and depressed feeling. And now i know thats not because it feels good, but it feels the most familiar. Im more familiar with sitting in the middle of a dark tunnel all alone and questioning whether im doing right or wrong, whether the world doing me fair or not, whether God doing me good or not. Happiness, sunny day, and ease, im not familiar with that.

“I want to lie down in the middle of a meadow. Watching stars in the night sky.”

Everytime the night getting late and works getting slow, those underlying things i tried to cover up with works slowly come crawling in my head. The things i tried so hard to swept under the rug and covered with loads of to-do list to keep me busy.

And as they crawling, all i can think about as an escape is just stars, a colorful constellation in the night sky. I might as well stargazing at least once in my lifetime, so that i can believe there are always a light i can hold on to, even in the dark. Because now i cant believe in anything anymore.

Not people. Not time. Not dreams.

I believe stars is where i belong. My home. And im tired of feeling things. I wanna go home.

English · My Chaotic Philosophy

a letter for my father.

i often watching a movie or listened a story about a kid who hate his father so much and never even deign to seeing him again right until the day his father die and he come home with miserable feeling seeing his father for the last time.

i dont want that happen, not in my life, neither for my siblings too. But why am i feeling we’re marching so close to that story, ya?

i can accept everything on you, good and bad. not that i dont have an option tho, but growing up more and more mature everyday brings me to the conclusions that everyone fought their own battle and their own traumas, even as a parents too, and that’s okay. i dont know if there’s really something called the perfect mother, or a perfect father, because, since i’m a child, i already know mine are not perfect. i dont even take you, my parents, as my role model tho, but i feel okay with you afterall.

but this thing, that already happened maybe for a half of my 27 years living, is unacceptable. infidelity is unacceptable at all. im not okay with this.

growing up watching disney movies, barbie movies and other heartwarming animes, i believe that father is a daughter first love. i reaaaaally love that idea that a father is a hero figure to his children. hence unconsciously i act like that is the real thing for me. eversince i understand all the thing that happened, all the things that you do, i deny that reality away, i swept it under the rug, i hide it behind the door, because what i want to believe is a perfect figure that i can look up to.

i used to lie to my friends about you. i hide the real you and present them the different version of you that i want them to believe. not that everyone care, but i want ME to believe it is. i lied to my own feeling and my own reality tho.

everytime i caught you doing that, it feels painful, so painful till it reach the point that i cant breathe and all my world is spinning. i didnt know why im feeling that at first, but now i understand of course it painful because i feel betrayed. i feel you betrayed me, my mother, brothers, all of us. it so painful that a teenage me, a 14 – 15 years old me, try to overcome this feeling by not feeling it at all and act like nothing happened, like it’s not even real. and i burried all the traumas in my subconcious mind, i did it so good because i cant even remember anything to the “why” questions that my therapist asked me back in 2019.

i really working on it. on forgiving. people said it is easy to forgive someone you love no matter how hurtful they make you feel, and i love you so much. but i wondering, why you made it harder everyday? why you’re not even try? you have enough. this house is enough. my mother should be enough for you. me and my brothers, we are not a perfect children, we not winning nobels or making a unicorn startup, but we are growing as a decent and respectable humanbeing, we should be enough for you.

i wondering why you cant even try to put your happiness on us. like all the fathers in those movies does. the one who take care of you is us. I am the one who always tries to makes you happy and healthy. not that person that you betraying us for.

i wonder how many enough is actually enough. i wonder how much hatred and contempt is actually tolerable. i still remember when i have this casual conversation with my friends, one of them throwing a topic “what is your worst heartbreak?” i cant answer that without lying. because, the truth is, my worst heartbreak is not involving boys and a romantic relationship. my worst heartbreak is you, the time when i finally understand that you betrayed us. its never easy because i sincerely love you but undeniably hate you at the same time and it tearing me down.

i hope this letter will never find you, because it is too dark and no matter who of us die first, i still dare to wish we will die with peace and love for each other.

English · My Chaotic Philosophy

I must learn to rest.

As I supposed to working by now, I write here instead.

Pandemic supposed to makes us live a slower life, in my initial opinion. With the #StayAtHome habit that forced to us and anything. But how come it feels and becomes faster and faster for me?

It’s like i’m running with a heavy baggage on my back, dragging a burdensome thoughts all along. For what? I wonder. No one knows.

I catch out breath, i need to stop and think. Or maybe merely to sleep. A full 8 hours sleep.

Came to office with the unsure thoughts. I’m not even a fan of bad-ending, let alone bad news. I. CAN. FUCKING. FEEL. PEOPLE’S. EMOTION. That’s one of my curse. Either i’m an empath or i’m just emotionally traumatized. That, and multiplied by my sensitive premonition.

When i senses something bad will happen, that feeling comes in the form of quiet anxiety that crawl inside my head, in my chest, on my hands. My heart quietly pounding faster terrified by something i dont even know yet. My palms will feel funny as if there’s something cold and hot and disgusting on it, it makes me goosebumps. Sometimes i can even feel where that ‘something bad’ will come from. Either from people, human, sky, trees, winds. And I hate the time when it appeared to be true. It’s like a curse and a gift at the same time. The horror is unbelieveable, but as a gift, it makes me more cautious than the rest of people around me, maybe. Whichever it is, i wish i never feeling it, nor that i ever try to tell someone about it because, what for? We’re living a hard present life already.

I must learn to rest. To filter my thoughts. To control the velocity of my own pace. Though no one will allows me to do so.

I can’t. Too much to think, too much to do. Every minutes I think in sequence. I wil do this and after that, i will do this, then this, then this, and just that, every seconds of my life becomes a sequence of to-do list orders that hiding behind the mask of “Time Efficiency”.

Well, my life surely becomes much more time-efficient, but am i sane still? I dont think so.

I’m still clueless about what kind of music i should listen. A relaxing, sleepy one like Gymnopedies by Erik Satie, the one that i always play when i have anxiety or panic attack? Or the sunny, up-spirited one like SPYAIR? Or a lo-fi, aesthetic one to makes me works more efficiently? Or a electro-dance, singalong-able by BlackPink that keeps me having fun while running errands? Or an emo punk by Linkin Park, MCR, SUM41, Good Charlotte, that I actually memorized all the lyrics and give me nostalgic, young feeling?

The fact is, I dont even know what i need, nor what i should do, hence let alone choosing the song as a backsound.

All the hustle and bustle, the juggling and struggling that we all going through, what for? To make us ourselves happy? Our parents happy? For money? For financial independency? For the position and social status? To help somebody else or to prove somebody else? What to prove?

I’m tired. I wanna sleep for million years ahead.

Bahasa · My Blabber Side · My Chaotic Philosophy


Biasanya kita pulang dengan membawa banyak sekali tambahan emosi dan perasaan. Entah punya kita sendiri atau bukan. Satu berisi gula-gula dan parfum bernama bunga daisy, satunya lagi berisi mata besar merah menyala-nyala dan petir yang menyambar-nyambar di kaki.

Tapi anehnya, hari ini aku tidak merasa keduanya terasa nyata. Jauh, jauh sekali. Ah, sepertinya aku sudah menjadi cukup kebal, ya. Terlalu banyak tambahan gelembung-gelembung isi emosi sampai jadi mati rasa.

“Baguslah,” aku bergumam. Baguslah kalau memang sudah tidak terasa apa-apa. Aku bisa simpan energiku untuk hal yang lainnya. Pun kau juga begitu, kan?

Lalu kita berjalan, berjalan, berjalan, kadang berlari, lalu lanjut jalan lagi sampai mencapai ujung jembatan. Tidak sengaja bertemu dengan orang-orang lainnya yang anehnya banyak bertanya, seolah-olah kita bisa tahu semua jawabannya? Seolah mereka sendiri sudah selesai dengan permasalahan hidup mereka saja?

“Jadi bagaimana?”
“Lalu kapan?”
“Mengapa bisa?”
“Haruskah begitu?”
“Lantas mengapa tidak begini?”
“Apakah kau mengerti?”
“Sudahkah kalian pelajari?”

Kita saling berpandangan, mulut berdiam seribu bahasa, kebingungan.

Apakah mereka sudah selesai dengan semua masalah mereka? Bagaimana bisa masih ada tempat di meja sesempit itu untuk mereka isi dengan piring-piring yang bukan milik mereka sendiri? Banyak sekali ya mereka punya waktu? Daripada mereka tanya-tanya kita, yang jelas tidak tahu apa-apa, mendingan mereka bikin seminar saja kan, lebih berguna.

Begitu kita berpikir seraya saling berpandangan. Ribuan tanda tanya yang tak kunjung lenyap dari dalam kepala.

Tidak adil, benar-benar tidak ada yang adil. Lalu jawabannya memang bisa kita cari ke mana? Jalan di belakang jauh sekali lho. Berkelok-kelok seperti labirin, kedap dan gelap seperti di ruang hampa udara. Bahkan untuk sampai titik ini pun aku harus jalan kaki ribuan tahun, dilanjut lari sprint ribuan tahun pula lamanya, lalu terpaksa menyelam ratusan tahun setelahnya padahal aku bahkan tidak bisa berenang. Itu, dan aksi-aksi absurd lainnya yang mungkin telah kulupakan karena saking banyaknya.

Saking anehnya tinggi dinding di ujung jembatan ini, aku hanya bisa tertawa sendiri. Aku menoleh dan kau pun ikut tertawa pula. Mengapa sebelumnya dinding ini tidak kelihatan? Kalau sebelumnya kita tahu, kan, kita tidak usah jalan ke sini sekalian. Tapi terlambat, jembatan di belakang sudah lenyap. Dibakar oleh entah siapa. Ah, mereka itu lagi kah yang tiba-tiba ikut campur? Kenapa ya orang-orang jadi banyak bicara?

Bahasa · My Chaotic Philosophy


Tidak adil. Benar-benar tidak adil.

Kenapa kita manusia diberi batas waktu yang sempit sekali? Digonggongi ribuan gambar ini dan itu, hanya dalam waktu bagai seperempat kedipan mata saja. Kalau tidak sampai, aduh betapa mengerikannya pandangan mereka. Aneh. Tidak adil. Titik mula kita semua berbeda, tapi kenapa kita semua dipukul rata sama?

Harus mulai bergantung dan mengakar, padahal di saat yang sama harus membuat cabang tinggi sampai ke luar angkasa, kita bahkan nggak tahu harus mulai dari mana.

Aku benci ulang tahun. Rasanya seperti hitung mundur menuju kehancuran. Menuju sebuah batas waktu di mana bukan kita yang tentukan. Kenapa bukan kita yang tentukan? Kenapa kita diikat oleh aturan dan batas kewajaran, tanpa seizin kita sebelumnya?

Mereka bilang aku hampir menuju batas waktunya. Aku dikejar, diburu seantero kota yang membawa besi tajam dengan obor membara-bara sebagai penerangan. Seakan aku sebentar lagi mati saja. Ini, itu. Ada daftar temu. Padahal aku bahkan masih sendirian. Buta. Luntang-lantung. Kadang berlari sampai mau menabrak mobil di depan. Kadang berjalan pelan sekali seakan tidak punya tujuan. Kadang tersaruk saruk merangkak seperti tidak punya nyawa lagi. Aku bahkan nggak tau apa yang aku lakukan.





Padahal aku masih tetap hidup dan bernapas saja sudah luar biasa. Kenapa mereka bisa melihatnya? Kenapa aku tidak? Aku sudah berlari compang-camping, dihancur-leburkan luar biasa mengerikan. KAU juga paham, kan? KAU juga sudah lihat, kan? Lantas harus bagaimana lagi? Aku harus bagaimana lagi?

Isi kepalaku mulai ribut, kalang-kabut. Banyak sekali jenis suara, entah punya siapa saja. Berisik. Berisik sekali. Pusing. Rasanya seperti dunia berputar-putar, mau mati.


A Little Update: Preparing My First Final Collection

A little update about my life… Oh let’s not talking about my real life, shall we?

Instead, I feel like talking about, my Fashion Show Collection Project!

This first time I’m choosing a fantasy story about stars, because I always feel connected to stars, space matter, and solar system. Here! Take a look of my little teaser!

And to tease you a little bit further, here some sneak peek of the works behind everything.

English · My Chaotic Philosophy

What is The Definition of Safe Place, Anyway?

I remembered few years ago, I wrote here that family is the only safe place to stop and pause from the on-going life. A sanctuary.

Now I thinking back of it and laughing hard.


Well, true, at that meantime. But now that my biggest problem actually come and rooted on family (and I never realized it before!), I just so so relieved that was my thought back then when I face that-hardest-3-years phase. I mean, come on, if i’m not feeling safe both in home and outer world, then where should I be? At the jail???

Nah, kidding.

English · My Chaotic Philosophy

On the note of loving myself.

When I sharing about my dream car and my ambitions to obtain it in the near future, a friend (is she even a friend, I doubt it) asked me:

“Oh you’re so ambitious. But then, when will you get married? And having children?”

Normally, I would find it very offensive. Not only I take it as a personal choice and personal life, it also one aspect that we human can’t control. But that time I decided to not answer and instead I think about why I feeling that way. Well, I think about that question so long until I came to this conclusion of why and how.

I’ve been hating myself for more than 20 years of my life. Yes, for more than 20 years, I am my own enemy. Now I’m I finally able accept all my flaws, all my good and bad side, loving myself wholeheartedly. And I’m so in love of being in this state. I love being the center of my own world. This is a peace that I finally reach after so much wars with myself. And with another humanbeing. And with God. And with the life itself

People said being a Mother and having child means you’re not the same person anymore, and that tiny human becomes the center of your world. No. I still want to pour all the love for me myself. I still eager to ambitiously chase the world. I still want me, for myself. Hence the thought that I have to share this so big love and peace I gather through sweat and tears to another human, and to have a little human being a center of my own world, I am not ready.

Different people means different way to live the life. There’s so much path to choose. There I said that.

English · My Entrepreneur Obsession Side

A Place to Dwell


This might be an ode post to celebrate the birth of my workroom. My own working room.

Main Story

Ever since pandemic and we forced to keep all of our business at home, including my office work too, everyday I started the day with a question ‘Where should I work today? My room? The balcony? The dining room?”

Now, 10 months later, I got myself all the new things that I didn’t knew I would need to be in my house.

This laptop fan, for example. Small but oh makes so much difference. The 3-types-of-light desk lamp might be the first thing I bought for working-from-home needs. the printer ink that seems ripping my whole monthly expenses but I know I really need those and don’t have any other option. Those, and a 10 month later, I bought a working table in light-colored woodply, then I have the whole vacant room downstair to used by myself.

A freaking working room.

Do it sounds serious enough? Do I sounds grown up enough?

For a person who uphold privacy and independency so high in the sky, it goes beyond my excitement. I feel like finally able to draw my own territory in this house for my own professional needs.

This is my first day working in this room. Still needs to be reworked here and there tho. This wall, for example. This green walls that hurting my eyes and making odd reflections to my skin and all the things inside (who’s in this home had such a weird idea of painting the walls this weird kind of green??) I need to paint it all white. But anyway, this is my own room to work. And sew. And I love it here already.

No, no photos at all because this green wall actually super embarassing. Someday, I promise.


Wait. why suddenly I write this domestic?