20190824; Saturday; 0216
I’m keeping too many secrets from
people around me. I think is very vulnerable to expose myself. Everything is so
embarrassing. New stuffs of my life will be such a very unexpected kind of way
to me. It’s surreal. It’s so surreal that I need a very long time to adapt into
my own mind. My health, my education, my friends, what am I doing in the
meantime. Everything needs a lot of time to settle down and I don’t feel like
telling everyone in recent time. Like, I do update my social media accounts,
but not my current situation. Just my picture. That’s it. Even if I do update
my current doings, it won’t be a clear picture. Maybe just a mug from my
current place, or just a picture of my feet in front of the mirror in that
specific place that I’ve never mention. I mean, what’s the function of telling
everyone the details of what you’re currently doing, or where are you currently
at. I mean, there is no point of sharing every single issue that goes on in
your life isn’t it? I even have a thought of not telling anyone if I’m married.
I’ll just suddenly have kids with my husband and we will go through our life,
jammed pack with us and by mean ‘us’, I mean US. Only US. No one should know.
I used to want to share things. I’ve
wrote the update in my blogs or post my picture and the location along with it,
or tag the person that was with me there at that specific moments. But I become
very secretive and mysterious about everything just because. I don’t remember
when, maybe it was around 2015 when I am so embarrassed to even show my face. I
started to become mysterious. At that time, I even want other people to forget
my face. I even hate my own ‘life resume’ at that time. Then I become secretive
in a way that I doesn’t want anyone to know my doings. Not even my parents. I went
to the hospital and hide everything behind my mom. I got caught one day, but
still I told her I’m not telling her why did I go to the hospital… so yeah. I
struggle alone, the pain. Literally; emotionally and physically. It was hard. I
know.
But I think I’m being reclusive and
wanting to conserve everything. It is still a hard thing for me to tell other
people. What’s my real name, my age, where did I come from, where were my alma
mater and stuffs.
Sometimes I’ve had this thought ‘Why
did I even become very conclusive to myself?’ But I can never find the answer
myself. I mean, sometimes I want to share my happiness, and sadness or
relieving my stress and anger. But then I knew that no one will be there. No
one will want to know or to hear what will I say. And I guess that’s why I
write. Because no one would listen to me. I stopped writing for a few years not
because I found people who listens, but maybe because I’ve lost myself. I
haven’t found myself yet, but I think this is the most comfortable escapism
that I can do. After trying lots of things and finally I’m back to writing. I’m
back to my old box. I’m back to my old self that I want to be so much. I mean,
I’m not completely like I used to be, but I think this is what I’ve choosed for
now and let’s just stay for a while. I may change a little bit, but that’s what
adulthood made me. I’m not yet mature, not even close to any of that, but knowing
how a real life works really hit me hard.
I’m still struggling now. Torn apart
between being a kid in a grown-up body or be an adult with a nine years old
mindset.
Pray for me. Pray for my strength.
Pray for my happiness. I am still searching for what the purpose of living,
what to do, Yes, I still do. One thing for sure, I want happiness to surround
me.
That’s it.
May Allah bless.