Paper On The Wall

even though it doesn't really help much, but at least yeaaah my wills are written so i have a concrete goal. there they are my room's wall full of sticking papers, which use to be motivating me, myself. and so my mom is able to know what i want hehehehehe




if those wills haven't come true, it's maybe because i haven't tried my best.
i'm limited and so does my ability.
but as long as the sun hasn't exploded i still have a chance, don't I? ;) you do too

hey :)
you know the feeling when so many choices are up to your face?
actually, it's confusing and terrifying. both.
now, here i am, in the beginning of my seventeen thinking about my future, which path do i have to take? will i fit in? can my parents afford it? do i want it?
there are so many question marks flying in my head. maybe but definitely i am not the only one who'd been suffering. tons of teenagers out there feel what i feel, this is the time to plan and plant our future. sometimes i had an argument with my parents. okay, it's always. but we know my ability, i'm neither bright nor dumb, i'm just average. i regret myself giving up to be an average girl, it's really common.
me and my parents already have a deal which is written in the air, i continue my study to psychology of Padjajaran University (please, pray for me).
i wish i hope i pray i can be accepted.
my struggle continues.....
now i have to choose another university and another faculty for my next choice. it's quite frustrating.

teenagers never have a simple life
but we have to loosen the tied-up string
and start sewing our own canvas

there's something 'bout the way
the street looks when it just rains
there's a glow of the pavement.....

Taylor Swift - Fearless

WONDERFUL SINGER, EVERYBODY!!!!

hi folks! here is Imammanda Budiartha one of the best singer in Indonesia, i beg y'all to watch and LIKE the video below, because it can make his dream really really come true. he joined a kind of singing competition which the winner is decided by how many viewer and like on its video. I guarantee you won't regret to help him. he's really talented in many ways. so please, click click and like like ;)
FYI, he sang 'Serba Salah' by Raisa, it's Indonesian song

Lily Allen - Never Gonna Happen

Kristin Chenoweth - Broadway Medley (Maybe This Time & I Could Have Dance)

A Year Older

hi folks, last tuesday i turn seventeen. i didn't expect anything happen that day, i was hoping an ordinary day without any this and that. but then when i reached school, the weird sign appeared when my class' door that usually opens it suddenly closed that day, and also i heard noise in there. yeah bang! they (my classmates) brought me a cake with i don't know how many candles on. they sang, they cheered and i was just so speechless.
school was school in the first and second period, then i didn't know it's coming (i should've known) my biology teacher asked me sooooooooooooo many question which really dragged me on the corner of thoughts which i finally found out it was my friends' doing.
pass to 7th period, i got another stinking unexpected thing, it's my teacher, the math one. goddamn it! curse you LQI! she said i had to solve all maths problems in the whiteboard, of course 100% don't need to ask i begged her not to punish me with thaaaat. it's the first time in 3 years SHS i really talk to my 'Mrs. Math' teacher, she was so shut, i doubt she knew my name before.
fine, don't you think it's the end.
the second break was a disaster, one of my friends brought a hedgehog, it's kinda cute if the hedgehog is looked like Sonic and his siblings. but this... lemme call it A RAT. i run as fast as i could, then i run away to the next class, it's my junior's.
before home, i threatened every single of them to not do anything more. yeah, 'threat' or trick, you got all of that when you have your birthday. a bunch of them threw me with water and flour in the parking lot, i turned to be a white bear on the way home. answer: Horrible.
i sat on my room replying thousands birthday wishes on all of my account, when suddenly my friend texted me to get out because the cake that i left before, no one wanted to eat it. completely innocence, when i walked out from my front door then something flying. it's water and egg. okaaay, they wanted a war, i brought them flour threw it all to them. that war woke my neighborhood, people just came out watching me bullied. it's mean --"
finally the war's over, i asked 'em to come in, we talked MUCH, laughed MUCH.
i was so grateful to have that day.

thanks to my mom who helped me cleaning all the evidence of those war
thanks to my family to keep me stand still

and huge thanks to LQI, and the best to:
Ade Lismi Rohaya - you'll got the revenge, baby!
Adhi Prasetyo Nugroho - thanks for making me miserable enough
Atika Dina Khairina - you're clean on my day, you shouldn't be in your day
Dwi Rendra Pramono - thanks for the ketchup
Gisella Arden Samudiono - wait your turn!
Henda Febrian Egatama - i know your house, you should be aware
Johan Sutanto - you owe me a topples of snack
Rika Widianingtyas - your words melt my heart
Voila Devi Evandhani - you will pay!!!
Wahyu Anditya Prathama - you will have an egg on egg mister
Imammanda Budiartha - next time you bring an animal, i'll bring you bazooka




ps: one of my wish in my new year's wish is already come true

I Am Fine

I feel like I should remember the first time I came close to committing suicide, as if it’s something along the lines of a first kiss. I guess it should be one of those things that produces a rush of sensory imagery with the slightest trigger. You’re meant to remember some soft noise humming in your ear, a faint trembling of the body, a detailed image of what was around you—even though your eyes were closed. It should be one of those moments, the kind that remains vivid even as the rest of your past blurs and fades away; it’s the kind that you’re supposed to remember, right? I don’t.

I can only talk in generalities, what it was like every time I felt like this. There were always tears—lots of them—my shirt wet as they seeped down my cheeks, paused at my chin, dropped to my chest. I would be sitting on my bed, fixated on a single point in the room, my eyesight transitioning in and out of focus. At times I saw everything—my face smiling back at me from glossy pictures on the walls, the days on my hanging calendar, days I never wanted to face—at others, only my thoughts. There was always some reason to feel meaningless. Most importantly, it was always night.

I played out scenarios in my head. My knife was on the top shelf of my bookcase, my fourth-floor window could be easily opened, my roommate wouldn’t be back for another hour or so.

Eventually, I would begin to turn the knife over in my hand. It provided no guarantee. What if I didn’t do it properly? I wasn’t looking for a cry for help, I was looking for a way out. I would open my window, delicately balancing so that my torso leaned precariously near the tipping point. Then came the painful deliberation.

“All I would have to do is tilt a little farther forward.”

“The fall would feel nice.”

“But it’s only the fourth floor, what if it doesn’t work?”

“Am I really that worried about the pain?”

“What if I regret my decision just before it ends?”

It was this last question that saved me. Somehow, my lack of confidence in the future both made me desire to end my life and prevented me from doing so. Feeling all the more inadequate, I would turn on the shower, remove my damp clothes, and sit on the cold tiled floor. A thousand more water droplets washed away my own.

There were many nights like this. No matter how many times I reasoned my way out of it, the darkness always washed over me once more. I could not prevent night from falling. Tears, glossy pictures, misery—these are the things that consumed me. Without any faith in life beyond death, I saw no point in prolonging the inevitable. Why continue to exist?

For a number of reasons, returning to campus at the beginning of this year was very difficult for me. The end of freshman year had left me feeling abandoned by those I had considered to be my closest friends. I filled my schedule with clubs, activities, and classes to avoid the isolation I felt when I was idle. When you’re running from one meeting to the next, it becomes easy to forget how alone you really are.

But while I could fill my days with meetings and work, I had little control over my nights. It’s hard to escape the truth when you are left alone with it. It was a reality I continued to run from.

Terrified of being by myself, I spent all my time with my boyfriend. We ate meals together, took classes together, did the same activities. He was there for me every single night as I cried for no reason other than sadness. He gave things up, knowing that I would break down at the mere mention of most social events. He took the knife out of my hand. He picked me up off the shower floor. He was the one constant in my life.

I can only describe the feeling as physical, all-consuming. Any moment my mind began to idle, thoughts of suicide would consume me. Looking out of a window, I tried to feel the fall. Swimming laps, I would imagine fluid filling my lungs.

The worst part? I felt guilty.

You’re not supposed to attend Harvard and get depressed. You’re supposed to attend Harvard and take advantage of opportunities. Opportunities. “Isn’t is amazing being there? There are so many things you can do!” “You go to Harvard? That’s so wonderful, you must have so many options.” “There are just so many things to take advantage of there.” You’re not supposed to complain about the fact that you go to Harvard. It’s the dream. You are supposed to go to Harvard and do things, make the most of it.

“Yeah, it’s a great place. There are so many possibilities,” I would usually say.

But it wasn’t just the outsiders who made me feel ashamed. Even at school I was surrounded by thousands of other students—all of them able to manage the same difficulties that had rendered me hopeless. They wrote papers, chaired activities, networked, partied, all with an air of ease.

“Hey, how’s it going?” “OhmygodIamsoooobusyIhavethreepsetsandtwopaperstowritetonightbutitistotallyfine.”

Effortless perfection. I was the exception. I was the one who was incapable of handling all the wonderful opportunities that Harvard presented me with.

At least that’s what I thought.

One day, I decided to talk to someone. Not as in talking to a professional, I had tried that already. I mean, I had an actual conversation with another student at work. Instead of joking about lack of sleep and 20-page papers, I opened up. For the first time, I discussed what was really going wrong in my life. I told her about what had happened, the constant physical pressure that I felt on every inch of my body, the apathy with which I now looked at every aspect of my life. I told her I wanted to die.

In turn, she opened up to me.

Here was someone with whom I sat in an office every single week yet knew very little about. Who else might be feeling what I was feeling? Who else might feel like they are the only one? I started talking to more people. I started to ask questions and I stopped accepting “psetclubactivitypaperNOSLEEP” as a response. The things I learned both allowed me to share what I was going through and helped me to realize that what I was experiencing did not warrant feelings of shame. By the time finals period came, my nights didn’t seem so daunting.

J-Term provided me with the time necessary to complete the process; leaving Harvard allowed me to reevaluate what I wanted out of my four years here. I strengthened ties with friends who were positive influences on my life and cut ties with those who weren’t. I built the support system I needed to face the veneer of effortless perfection once more. The pressure was finally starting to fade.

But returning to campus wasn’t easy. There are still days when I feel trapped by emotion. There are still days when I’m not sure if I can face other people. But there aren’t still days when I pick up the knife.

Harvard isn’t always the glossy ivy-covered utopia that many conceive it to be. There are moments of that place, yes. Walking past Memorial Church in the fall with reds and oranges on the ground around you, the first warm day in the spring when students on blankets adorn the Yard. Brochure Harvard does exist. The reality of the situation, however, is that this is not the Harvard that many students must wake up to and battle every single day. It is not always a place where conversations about mental health are necessarily encouraged. On a campus where the need for assistance is too often perceived as a flaw, the student body has a tendency to rely on variations of “I’m fine.” And, at a college where so many students already have far too much on their plate, it’s understandable that most don’t press the question further.

I’ve learned the importance of doing just that. I have also learned to cut back—on friendships, on extracurriculars, on classes. By concentrating my energy on the people and activities that I care most about, I have gradually begun to get past all Harvard has taken and realized just how much it can give. The most important opportunity I’ve found here is the opportunity for happiness, though the place that lies between night and Brochure Harvard holds a happiness that can be hard to find.

found here