English · My Blabber Side · My Chaotic Philosophy

Happy Birthday, A Clumsy 22-Year-Old Girl


The 22-year-old me is an introvert, an acute one. A random MBTI tests all over internet said either she is 84% or 96% introvert. If it’s true then it’s not a shocking fact as she suffered a lot from her social anxiety. She was even hide in the restroom just to catch a breath at least twice a day during her the first three months of work life.

The 22-year-old me would be a national champion of overthinking competition, if it’s any. She is a B-type which people would called a happy-go-lucky type. So basically her nature is a mix-up. An overthinker B-type, she would declare. It’s quite not easy to live in kind of state of mind which contains thousands of opposite traits and behaviours. She has to dealing with voices in her head that arguing each another everytime. That’s why practical thinking is not her style, hence it doubles up the hardness of life for her. Poor soul.

The 22-year-old me still avoiding phone calls, messages, people; glitching from responsibilities; and escaping from real life. The 15-year-old her was ever composed a song titled “Escapist”, it tells about a person who doesn’t belong anywhere and can’t handle real life, and she still think that song compatible for her personal self even until now.

The 22-year-old me was longing for a perfect romance life, everyday, everytime, tho she never verbally admit it. Being in touch with the other one whom she considered as ‘boy’ or ‘guy’ makes her awkward hence this traits often translated as a ‘cold-and-cool-and-not-interested’ trait by the person she deeply longing. What an irony.

The 22 year-old me was ever felt so depressed that she nearly got her hands to alcohol can in the groceries and even keep eyes on which cigarettes to smoke. She never drink neither smoke before as it’s encounter her principles of life. But that depression almost eat her up to bones. Luckily, she then considered yoghurt and glico pocky tastes better than alcohol and cigarettes, so, well, attempt of rebellion: failed.

The 22-year-old me still speak to her imaginary friends. Yes, she has. And not only one but SIX instead. One of them is a wolf named Pandemonium and one other is Sora from Kingdom Hearts game. People might said that she is a schizoid because she talks to herself a lot as if she actually talks to a ‘friends’. And she refused to called them ‘imaginary friends’. “They are my guardian angels”, instead she replied.

Birthday is not her thing since 5 years ago. She loves a quiet and lonely birthday where everybody forget about it and behave like usual to her. She hates surprise or party or other kind of celebration because spotlight freaking her out and make her anxious.

And this birthday, too. Except she finally leaked it out by revealing her big wish on her instagram account, which her friends apparently recognized and makes it not a ‘quiet-birthday’ anymore. But this time, no problemo.

The 22-year-old me now have become a 23-year-old me today. As the 23-year-old approaching, she anxious a LOT. She hasn’t obtain a big and meaningful thing that she thought every 23’s people has to. “I will be 23 yet I’m still an useless potato, what should I do?!”, she mumbled panickly everyday since April began. But when the day come, peculiarly everything happens just like that. It’s not painful at all. Being 23-year-old feels strangely not different as being 22-year-old.

Being 23-year-old doesn’t mean that she have to evolved to become an extroverted, and stable, and rich, and wise either. I think, she will just stay this way. People change and her, too, will unnoticedly changes. It doesn’t matter the age. Age is just a number. But the process to be a mature person can’t be started or paused right away as if you’re installing a phone app. It happens as the time goes, slowly.

Happy Birthday to her.

She has a lot and numerous cool dreams to give up now so, 23, please be nice to her.


English · My Chaotic Philosophy

I Don’t Need Butterflies Nor Roses

By the time I started fantasize about cotton candy cloud and rainbow bridge, I should zapped myself out of it, immediately. It’s not funny anymore and I’m not a little child anymore. And don’t tell me to grinning like an idiot, because I’m not a little girl anymore.

Warns and precautious spread all over the walls, I have already knew, I just didn’t took them seriously. Oh yeah, we can try endlessly but in the end we are wizards and witches in disguise. We were disgusted and mad and ready to pinpointed the wand on anybody else’s face, but, uh-oh, we ALL have a wand.

Come on, so tired of this game, don’t you too? Why cannot we ended this and pretending you never be a frog and I never be a lizard. We are not a little children playing with play-doh. We are mature witch and wizard with a full-power magical skills playing with each other’s awful emotions.

As it sounds as safe as it never be.

#TheMorningTales · My Chaotic Philosophy

#TheMorningTales 1: A New Perception of Feminism



I write it right from the place in the photo above. It is Tuesday and I came too early than usual and my office still not open yet thus have to refuge to another place, I am.

Another thinking, of all the interesting thing I found in my way to office, I think it’s all worth a story. So here is why, I started to write another new tag, about the tales of the Morning.


Main Story.

I hate morning, I really am.

The sound of tweeting birds and the sun breaking dawn, the colors of violet spreads beetween faded black and the scent of dew along with fresh-brewed coffee.

Sound so romantic. But in my dictionary, it will not gonna happen.

Make it two time if it’s sunny morning. I hate hate hate sun, so morning and sunny day is a bad combination that ever happen for me.

Sometimes in my low self-esteem or post mental-breakdown illness period, I wish I can just be a housewife and stay at home all day. Laugh at me, pals, but I think fast-living is not suitable for my generally-insecure-and-anxious-towards-everything self.

It bring me the thinking, that people and mainly feminists troubled so much with the idea of “Women should be in home while men are out there and having a career path.”

Is it that bad?

Because IMHO, home is the best. It is sanctuary, a safe and sound place that we can end our days to. By being in home, it doesn’t mean our aspirations are killed and decayed. To be contrary of that, the home also can be a palace or castle to gather and build all the ideas before being spread to the fellow folks around.

The world out there is so hard and cruel, that’s why men all out there. Because they have to fight for their women and girls. So by any mean society putting the female in home, doesn’t it mean that they want to protecting us instead? If you are a housewife already, I understand that making home and raising child is not an easy thing to handle, but afterall there will be no risk of car accident or any similar physical hazards.

For anything physical mainly related to male business.

Home life generally more safe than a street life, so if you are not Malala and living in urban modern society, why bother to fighting over this?

By writing this, I’m not saying that women should be in home and men should be fighting hard out there. The world is balanced it’s way already, it have it’s own classifications and requirements.

So if you are as warrior princess as Xena (or maybe a little less of that) and you think you can fight the outer world between men, go ahead and do it. Show the guys that a hot lass can kick off their head too.

Or if you are more to conservative and insecure one (like me, usually) you can settle down in the home while browsing through job vacancy website to find a freelance and offsite job that pays you well.

Because females always want the best for both worlds and who say you can’t have a great career while you are staying at home all day everyday.

Well, that’s my dream though.



A little bonus: kitty’s living seems so nice tho.



My Chaotic Philosophy

If You Want Something, Then Chase After It. Nothing’s Good Comes From Only Dreaming

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Walt Disney not always right, my head said as I sank deeper into my work chair, sighing deeply.

“If you can dream it, you can do it.” he said.

Absolutely incomplete formulas, somehow.

I’ve been dreaming to much lately. Wait, I’ve ALWAYS been dreaming too much. It’s like building our own Mary’s Secret Garden, we have absolute sanctuary on our own. The reality sometime too harsh. Sugars and toxins are blending into grey area in which we are unable to define. Like a wolf trap, it’s unescapable. Then dreaming became such a recovery. It heals everything in just a glimpse.

“Just hold on. Everything will get better.”

“Keep survive the state of affairs.”

“Just be patient now then you’ll get better in the future.”

Thanks, everybody. I can relate all of that. Everybody knows nothing comes easy, everything need process and a clear progress, and it often comes with hardness and brain-haunting matters.

Well, it’s all made sense in the beginning, before it become humbug.

Everything has an expiry date, because nothing is eternal. And so the words itself. While driving, showering, eating, even sleeping, maybe, I can’t stop questioning. Why we have to hold on? Why we have to wait any longer? If a ‘betterness’ that we pursue, why we have to abuse ourselves by being ‘patient’? If heart already say no, maybe it’s indeed time to say no, evidently, to the world.

Today I made a massive breakthrough on my career life. It was based on impulsive intention before I waited for several days, thus that impulsive decision transformed into something more rational and reasonable.

I don’t know what will come next, or in the future. Not that I gambling of my own life, it’s…

Well, maybe gamble, it is.

Nevertheless, as I pressed the “ON” button, I knew it would be a decision that I would never regret. I made it. Whether the next step will be right or left or nor in between, I’ve won the battle with my own self, with the countless fears and numerous “just hold on” advices that people threw to me. That’s what matter’s most.

Because if we wait and hold on any longer and not start making our own steps, we will lose without a battle.

My Blabber Side · My Chaotic Philosophy

#LearnToday 9: Break A Leg

I’ve been stated a Quote that “If you try to sit on two chairs, you will fall between them. For life, you must choose one chair.’
But there are also the times that we not opt to choose and obliged to do it all.
In this case, the only thing to do is prove them that you won’t be fall.
My Blabber Side · My Chaotic Philosophy · Uncategorized

it’s pretty toxic.

I guess, for some reason, being amongst of social media stream is not always appropriate for people with social anxiety. We hurt ourselves if we tend to do that, the thing that every marketeers and branding profesionals adviced: dive and clubbing in the middle of heads all around us.

I guess, this is wrong. Instagram has always been such a Pinterest to me. Like a holy chamber to seek for inspirations or any aesthetical purpose. But since I try to opened up myself in order to be more extravert, sociable, decent, and proper, I allows myself to connect and be connected to some acquaintances, that I actually haven’t any comfortability to. And so this is happen.

I guess, tracing back why I feel like intoxicated everytime I scroll my timeline, is because so many outsiders’s life throws into me, that I don’t even have any intention to accept or even react. So many broken privacy in just short amount of time. It offends me in some how, some way.

We introverts tends to keep our circle small. It’s not that we cannot maintain social interaction, instead because we can’t opened up that easy. Thereby, introverts privacy is a strict region. It’s so fragile that if you break it, you figuratively break everything inside. It’s adequately lethal.

I guess, I will stop using instagram for some time now. It’s easier than breaking all the connections because I’m socially awkward and anxious and it’s cost a lot of my energy.