cenotaphized

[cenotaphized]

aku nahkoda dan kita adalah kapal. kau hujan badai dan laut adalah semesta.

tanpa berbekal kompas atau selembar peta, bahtera kita meluncur bersama sebait syair dan kidung asa. tertatih mengikuti irama arus yang konon, semakin jauh dari pelabuhan semakin riuh dan ramai. kau datang dengan awan di saku-saku bajumu, sedikit gugup, sedikit gelagapan. dan aku diam-diam menyukai caramu membuat langit tak lagi bisa meramalkan cuaca.

aku bukan pelaut hebat, perutku masih bergejolak dan jalanku masih limbung di geladak kapal. barangkali kau lebih berpengalaman dan tahu arah mana yang harus kita tuju. atau boleh jadi, kita sama-sama bingung bintang utara mana yang menuntun sebagai buku panduan. tali-temali perasaan masih kusut-masai, melintang dari timur ke barat, menari bersama layar yang kadang salah arah.

aku paham bahwa laut terlalu luas untuk aku kuasai. tanganku yang cuma dua ini cuma bisa menggenggam tanganmu. tapi aku, di tengah porak-poranda langit dan hempasan ombakmu, malah merasa paling hidup. setiap petir yang muncul dari dalam jiwamu tahu caranya menggetarkan aku. badai adalah berkah dan aku dengan senang hati menjadi pelaut yang mabuk dalam nikmat gaduhmu.

malam seringkali jatuh dingin dan lantai kapal tidak selamanya kering. tapi kau suka diam-diam membenahi pelampungku, sementara aku belajar membaca angin yang bergejolak di kedua matamu. barangkali kita mengapung tanpa arah, mengizinkan laut mengantarkan pada tujuan akhir yang masih berwujud entah. barangkali kita sedang menabrak waktu dan menentang takdir. sepanjang kau masih menyodorkan teh hangat dan semangkuk peluk, aku tahu aku belum ingin merapat ke dermaga terdekat.

[cenotaphized]

izinkan aku tenggelam.

sayang, aku tidak pernah pandai soal berenang. riak air acapkali membuatku ragu dan bimbang, khawatir jika nanti tak sempat kembali pulang, lalu nyawaku lenyap dan habis ditelan gelombang. sampai suatu hari, kutemukan diriku menyelam di balik kedua lenganmu, dengan segenap berani yang aku ramu. malu-malu memohon secuil kasih mewah, menelisik segala rindu dan harap, yang alkisah sembunyi di ceruk tulang belikatmu yang megah. aku langsung tahu, aku akan tenggelam. tanpa pelampung, surat wasiat, atau salam. kutemukan diriku menjadi manusia payah, dengan suka cita memilih rebah dan pasrah, menjelma pelipis pengganti ketika milikmu lelah. sungguh, aku bukan saudagar kaya raya, namun gelisah genap mengisi seluruh raga. cemas jika bajak laut mau menculikmu dengan paksa, merampok yang berharga tanpa sepenggal kata. pun, jika besok aku karam dan napasku tinggal satu, maka sayangku, ketahuilah bahwa di situ, aku dengan bangga telah mati syahid, jadi hantu yang dimakamkan tanpa peti dalam dekapmu.

[cenotaphized]

oh, how odd. talking to you make me look forward to see tomorrow (to talk to you again. and again. and again. and again. and again. and agai-)

[cenotaphized]

sandal jepit di beranda masjid

perasaan ini seperti ibadah yang tak kunjung mampu aku tunaikan. sudah sejak lama aku berdiri di depan pintunya, siap mengetuk dengan tangan yang terangkat—hanya untuk sadar bahwa aku datang dengan tubuh yang bergelimang hina, penuh jejak dosa yang tak pantas dipertunjukkan di hadapan siapa pun. aku datang bersama lidah yang pernah meludahi langit, selalu lupa untuk membawa wudhu dan menjadi suci. ribuan kali kucoba mencuci diri, tapi najis-najis masa lalu lekat menempel di sela niat dan kuku jari. kupikir, rasa ini sederhana: saling tatap, saling percaya, saling paham. ternyata ia seperti ayat-ayat langit—yang hurufnya hanya bisa dibaca oleh hati yang terpelajar. dan si bodoh ini bahkan tidak punya sekantung keberanian untuk memahami 1 butir aksaranya. kutantang diri dan kubuka mulut untuk menyapa, tapi kutemukan suaraku ditelan oleh takut; cemas jika lidahku mencemari namanya. kuambil satu langkah mendekat, hanya untuk mundur dan menambah jarak yang kian getir; kuatir jika hadirku mendatangkan gigil padanya. sesuatu sebaik itu, tak seharusnya berdekatan dengan makhluk nista sepertiku; yang lahir daripada doa-doa yang tak pernah diaminkan. maka kupilih untuk diam, tak layak rasanya menginginkan sesuatu yang elok nan rupawan. aku cukup tahu diri, sebagaimana sandal jepit di beranda masjid, paham untuk tak ikut masuk, tak pernah berdoa untuk dijemput. seperti semua yang ditinggalkan, aku pun belajar bahwa untuk dikenang pun aku tak pantas.

[cenotaphized]

the art of loving is knowing when to stop.

love is always romanticized as something eternal—something we were born for. so many movies, stories, and songs teach us that love is about holding on through both solace and storm. but real love—the kind that goes beyond posession—demands something more difficult: knowing when to let go. this, too, is a form of love. this, too, is an art.

love often translated into presence and persistence. we believe it is love when it appears frequently, exist bewitchingly to be the color of our days, alongside the sunshine. and somehow also lingers as sorrow, falling gently with the drops of rain. and love is still there, desperately held by the heart that yearns. we come to understand love as something that must be endured, even though it's painful to possess—we faithfully believe that walking away means failure. but the outcome of love that is rooted in fear of loss or obessession is an attachment.

many stay in relationships claiming they are still fond of each others, play-pretending to share affection and tenderness—while lying to themselves. perhaps out of habit, guilt, or the fantasy of what they could be. they confused endurance with loyalty, and sacrifice with love. but clinging to something that has become one-sided or damaging is not love. it's and act of avoidance of truth.

to love someone is to want the best for them—even if that best mean no longer includes you. sometimes the kindest thing we can do, for them and for ourselves, is not to give and give and give. to be the giver constantly, without receiving any feedback only destroys both ourselves and them. therefore, knowing when to step back, and eventually learn how to let go, is the highest form of love. loving someone doesn't always mean keeping them close; sometimes it means releasing them from expectations they can no longer meet, or dreams that have quietly unraveled. stopping doesnt mean you never loved. it means you loved wisely.

true love must include the self. continuing to love someone who can not—or will not—love us back in a healthy, respectful way, chips away our self-worth. knowing when to stop is not a betrayal of love, but a reclaim of dignity. it's understanding that your heart has limits, and that those limits deserve to be honored—by you, not by them. and there's a bravery in deciding when the chapter of loving them has ended—not with resentment, but with grace. one need to have a big heart to let go and set the love free, while still hoping for their happiness. it's some sort of farewell that says; "i still care, but i can't stay." that moment is a rite of passage in emotional growth. it transform love from a feeling into a conscious act—one that recognize timing, capacity, and reality.

at the end of the day, the art of loving doesn't always mean how much you give to the person you cherished the most. not about how strong you are in holding on despite the pain and wounds they gave. the art of love also formed in the wise act of letting go. real love knows when to stay, but it also knows when to stop—when the silence speaks louder than the words, when the waiting has hollowed into absence, and when peace becomes more sacred than presence. to stop loving, not out of bitterness but out of generosity, is one of love's most profound and difficult forms.

[cenotaphized]

dia api dalam lilin, dan aku api pada hutan

dia api dalam lilin, yang nyalanya mulia, hadirnya dicinta, hangatnya didamba. terduduk rayu di tengah tamu, menjamu sambil tersipu malu. ia hidup dalam aturan, patuh pada pedoman, tak lepas dari kebajikan. dia api dalam lilin yang pendarnya adalah perayaan. ayah dan ibu sering berkata; "nak, jadilah lilin, yang wujudnya bisa temani doa yang berpilin." sialnya, ingin mereka tak ubah dari angan. aku api pada hutan, yang enggan menjadi terang hanya untuk terkurung. aku riuh berlabuh bersama angin yang jauh. aku sibuk berkecamuk di lereng gunung, mengunyah pohon dan daun dan segala remuk. aku api yang lahir dari jatuhnya sebatang rokok dan dendam seorang pemburu. aku tumbuh liar bersama bangkai binatang dan ladang yang mengerontang. aku api pada hutan yang siarnya terlarang.

[cenotaphized]

[a copy of journal entry]

tw: suicidal ideation , depression , hopelessness , emotional trauma , family issues , loneliness.

🔺please read with care🔻

[6/12/24] i really don't have the will to live anymore. i'm waiting for death to come and find me. most of the time, i masked and pretend i'm not like this. it's embarrassing to be sad and depressed when others have it rougher and harder than me. but i really, really wanna die.

[13/12/24] i don't like being alone but i also feel extreme loneliness when i'm with other people.

[22/12/24] life doesn't get any better, the one who getting better was me. life still hard and full of struggles, but i'm slowly learn how to navigate it. maybe i'm not doing it perfectly, i still make mistakes. but hey, the guilt and shame after making mistakes doesn't feel as heavy as before.

[23/12/24] in my dream, my mother is happier and achieves all of her dreams without having to postpone them or sacrifice anything. in my dream, my father get all the live he deserves and has a child who was better than me. in my dream, my siblings get to pursue their dreams and fulfilled their childhood desires. in my dream, we eat together at one table, and no one is fighting against each other. in my dream, we are a little happy family.

[25/12/24] i go places only to realize it's not the wall or the room that trap me. i can go out and meet people and see the sun and hear the birds singing, and still feel depressed and falling apart and broken inside. it's my mind that traps me. and i can not leave my mind behind for i want to taste freedom and inner peace.

[26/12/24] when people ask me how was your day and i want to answer by it was terrible and i feel guilty for being alive but i know they'd be horrified and pity me so i just answer by yeah it was just fine.

[28/12/24] i've realized not everyone have the ability to understand other people, and because of that, also don't have the ability to understand themselves.

[28/12/24] my life has reached the point of peace. it gives me time and space and allow me to grow or to grieve, to nurture and to be nourished. i once prayed to God to make me wise and He put me in tough situations.

[29/12/24] my problems aren't that big compared to other people's, but i've always wanted to die. i have the need to die and feel like my life doesn't belong to me. i was supposed to die years ago. and i feel incredibly guilty for still being alive.

[31/12/24] for once, i want my existence to mean something to someone. i wish i had someone or somewhere to belong to. i wish my absence meant something (in a good way), that without me things would be different and emptier. i wish my presence mattered to someone so much that they'd be afraid to lose me.

[01/01/25] i find it really lonely not to have a partner. all my friends have boyfriends and girlfriends of their own, and at the end of the day, they will choose their partner first (which is very normal). yet i can't help but feel being overlooked and underappreciated as a friend.

[05/01/25] i can't promise you that i will get better, i can't promise you that i'm going to live. i've been detached from the world for so long that nothing feels real anymore. i am not my self—and even if i am, i don't know who i'm supposed to be. i don't belong anywhere and every place feels like a trap to me. nothing is interesting and everything feels so numb. i'm waiting for death to take me. but there's no guarantee that death will end this suffering—which is more frustating.

[19/03/25] i feel miserable. deeply miserable. is it because i don't let my self to feel human? to be human completely?

[15/05/25] dear God, if you don't want to take my soul, then please give me a life where i don't want to end it my self.

[14/05/25] kinda feel like a failure again.

[24/05/25] the love i gave for other people will come back to me—multiplied, gentler, and comforting. and i will cherish it instead of running away.

[25/05/25] if it was given to me, it might have broken me instead of building me and help me to grow. it was a blessing in disguise. i didn't lose it. i dodge a storm.

[cenotaphized]

[cenotaphized]

society hates women who talk about or enjoy sex

sex is a natural, human experience—yet there is significant double standard between women and men. men are often praised for being sexually active (studs, players), but women are shamed (sluts, easy) for the exact same behavior. when it comes to women, sexuality is only acceptable when it's controlled, hidden, or serving men's desires—not when it's expressed openly for their own pleasure.

in misogynistic society, women's sexuality is treated as something that needs to be owned, controlled, and suppressed. for centuries, and even until today, in many ways, a woman's worth is tied to her purity—in marriage, in family honor, even in her right to exist safely. a woman who wants or enjoys sex openly challenges that system, because she can't be controlled by fear, shame, or dependency anymore.

this fear of female autonomy is exactly why society places women in impossible double binds. women are expected to be innocent—but also sexually skilled; pure—but also desirable and seductive; untouched—but also never reject their husband's touch. this contradiction is such a punishment for women no matter what they do. to enforce this system, women are divided into two categories; the "good" women, and the "bad" women. good women are considered as those who are modest, innocent, and wife material. and bad women are reflected by those who are sexually open, independent, and therefore also labeled as "used goods" or "less respectable".

both kinds of women are punished, the first for being boring and naive, the second for being too much.

a wife who's never been allowed to explore her sexuality still expected to magically know how to please a man, keep him interested, and prevent cheating. and when her man cheats, society often blames her for not being enough. at the same time, a woman who openly explores her sexuality gets slut-shamed (labeling women as dirty or immoral), victim-blamed (saying women who dress or act a certain way "deserve" assault), dismissed as easy, and stripped of respect. her choices are not seen as expressions of autonomy, but as moral failures. even in workplace situations, her sexual history or rumors can be used to undermine women professionally, even if it's irrelevant.

meanwhile, men are allowed—normalized, even—to sexualize everything. their infidelity is forgiven, if not expected. they are taught that objectifying women is just "natural" or "boys being boys". they can gawk at a school uniform, a nurse outfit, a girl laughing with friends, and still face little to no consequences. men's lack of self control is always excused, if not barely blamed for. and women are still held responsible for "tempting" them.

this isn't just a simple double standard, it's coming to a point where it becomes a system designed to uphold male power. when men sexualize women, it's framed as instinct. when women sexualize anything, even themselves, it's framed as rebellion, deviance, or sin. men are allowed to consume, devour, and discard. women are expected to endure, serve, and stay silent.

the normalization of male sexual entitlement is so complete that we don't even question it anymore. a man can watch porn and brags about it, and nobody bats an eye. a woman does the same, she gets shamed. a man cheats, and the question becomes "why was his wife not giving him (the pleasure)?" a woman cheats, and she becomes a whore, a destroyer of their household. even violence is excused; when a man assaults a woman, people would ask "what was she wearing?" "did she tempt him?" "why was she out so late or going alone?" his crime becomes her fault. his desire becomes her responsibility. his violence becomes her consequence.

this is how patriarchy survives: by convincing men that their pleasure is sacred, and women that their pain is deserved. it teaches men that control is love, dominance is masculinity, that women are things to be conquered, not beings to be understood.

and when women finally claim their sexuality, when they say "i want sex on my terms, with my consent, without shame or punishment"—it's immediately misunderstood, mocked, or weaponized against them. female sexual liberation often reduced to nothing more than "free sex" or "promiscuity". as if wanting autonomy means wanting chaos, as if respecting their own choices means encouraging recklessness. but sexual liberation has never meant carelessness.

it means freedom—to say yes, to say no, to ask for protection, to demand respect, to enjoy pleasure without fear. it means recognizing that a woman are not vessel for purity or object for men to use—but a person with body and desire of their own.

still, when a woman gets pregnant outside of marriage, the shame falls entirely on her, not on the man who also participated in it. society often forgets his lack of responsibility and questions her character instead, she is seen as foolish and irresponsible, he is excused and even forgiven. even in terms of abortion, single motherhood, and contraceptive access, women are painted as the problem, never the man who vanishes after the act. because in the eyes of a misogynistic society, sex is only liberating for men.

[cenotaphized]

one more year until my frontal lobe finally developed.

thank you for not ending your life, even though there wasn't a single day you didn't think about it. thank you for staying, even when you had no idea where life was taking you. thank you for not giving up, even when the world felt like it was dragging you down. i hope you know you never have to feel guilty toforstaying alive, even if you strongly believed you were supposed to die by this age.

i hope you grow into someone wise, with a kind heart and soft words. i hope you don't become a bitter adult, carrying envy and jealousy in your chest. i hope you receive all the love and affection you deserve—and i hope you learn how to give it back to those who deserve it, too. i hope you get the help that you need without feeling guilty for asking. i hope you find it in your heart to forgive your parents, and love them as they are.

i hope you become more tender and forgiving, without ever breaking your own boundaries. i hope you learn to love and respect yourself. i hope only joy and luck comes to you, and even if sadness and heartbreak visit, i hope you're strong enough to bounce back from them. i hope you never fall back into the dark pit of depression and questioning what's wrong with yourself again.

i hope the world become nicer and gentler to you and keep the struggles away from you. i hope you finally find your place and people, so you finally feel like you belong—so you stop feeling like an alien. i hope you're surrounded by those who can understand you without judgment, and that you, too, grow to understand others more fully.

i hope you won't be starving from anything that should be given to you naturally. i wish you a healthy mind and body. i wish you get the job where you can learn and grow as a person, with good amount of wage, workhour, and workload. i wish you get everything your heart desire without having to beg or break yourself to earn it. i hope you get the inner peace you've always longed for. and most of all, i hope you finally get a life where you don't want to end it yourself. i hope you can enjoy life, not just endure it.

happy birthday, jorge. may your anger turned into love, and love into comfort.

[cenotaphized]

May I know what happened to your account? I kinda miss you

hi there anon 👋🏻 my account is just deactivated for some reason. i'm sorry for disappearing so suddenly and thank you for missing me. i will be back soon, don't worry 🙌🏻

[cenotaphized]

i wish i won't become a cruel adult.

i don't know why adults love to project their problem onto the younger ones. for example, my parents are divorced and almost everyone knew it. and instead of helping me (who definitely suffers from that) or at least easing my feelings and reassuring me, they ask questions like why didn't i try to make them get back together? as if it's my duty.

my parents' failures or mistakes are not mine to fix. my parents are adults and they should've known the consequences of their acts better than me. i have nothing to do with the divorce, even though i'm their child. in fact, i am the victim of their broken relationship. i'm struggling enough as it is, i don't need more burdens to carry. especially not from people that supposed to teach me how to love. i don't even know why adults expect me to be the mediator, the peacemaker, the glue that holds my parents' marriage together. i was just a teen who didn't even know how to be a human completely, and they expected so much from me. that's just straight-up cruel and evil.

did they not realize that children are not an emotional support system for their parents despite being part of the family? it was supposed to be the other way around. i was supposed to be protected and loved and being taught how to love in healthy ways—not in the way where i grow to see love as something harmful and dangerous—and yet, i'm still handed the responsibility to heal wounds that aren't mine while i'm also bleeding. why didn't adults admit that my parents are failing their children for how they are unable to keep the marriage and teach their kids how to love properly? it's as if adults blame me for their divorce and oblige me to put their love back.

what stressing me is that i know i'm not the only child of a divorced family experiencing this. so many children whose parents are divorced are getting questions like this too. i don't even know why adults can't see children from a divorced family as someone who need helps. and when we become a rebel for not getting the guidance, love, attention, and care we're supposed to have, we get the blame for being a broken and ruined child. we became the very example of how other kids should not to become.

we get the blame for mistakes our parents' made.

i did not ask for pity from the adults—or everyone. no, that's not what i want. just a little bit of empathy is enough. adults don't gotta go further to pay for my needs or provide my life. all they need to do is just being thoughtful instead of insensitive of someone's conditions. instead of subtly blaming the child of a divorce, try to ask how they are feeling. that's much much much better than asking them why they don't try to get their parents back together again.

now that i'm the adult my self, i wish i won't turn cruel and even if i do, i hope i die soon.

[cenotaphized]

men are allowed to be ugly and yet loved, while women are not.

this is a double standard that is so normalized in society. it's not just unfair, it's utterly dehumanizing. men can be average looking—or even considered 'ugly'—and yet, still be adored, admired, or even romanticised if they have charm, status, or a good sense of humor. society tends to allow men complexity and value beyond their looks. but women? they are pressured to be beautiful first, and everything else—talent, kindness, intelligence—comes second, if it’s even noticed. and even when a woman is beautiful, she's also expected to have it naturally. not through surgery or other aesthetic enhancements.

it tells us that a woman’s value is her appearance. while a man’s value can be his personality, his ambition, his talent—even his brokenness.

if a woman doesn't meet conventional beauty standards, she's often seen as unworthy of love or attention. even strong, talented, or brilliant women are reduced to "not pretty enough" if they don't fit the mold. a lot of women are taught from childhood that beauty is currency. compliments revolve around how “pretty” a little girl looks in her dress, not how smart or creative or funny she is. women grow up trying to perfect their bodies, skin, makeup, clothes. and it’s not just for themselves, it’s because they've internalized, deep down, that society won’t treat them kindly if they don't fit the beauty standard.

meanwhile, men aren’t just allowed to “let go” of their looks—they’re often romanticized for it. "rugged." "real." "unconventionally attractive." that double standard gives them so much more freedom to exist as they are. in contrast, women are trapped in an entirely different system—one where appearance is not just noticed, but evaluated, policed, and tied to their worth. this is where beauty privilege comes into play. while beauty privilege is real and gives some women certain benefits, it’s actually not as sweet as it sounds.

beauty privilege is a product of misogyny.

beauty privilege sees a woman as being worthy of kindness, support, or even basic decency only when she fits society’s beauty standards. in other words, being treated well isn't a right—it's a reward, handed out to those who are considered attractive enough. beauty privilege might look like power or respect from the outside—people complimenting you, being kind, offering help—but it’s not real, stable empowerment. it’s not because they value who you are as a whole person. it’s because they like how you look. so the treatment you receive is conditional—it only exists as long as you meet a certain beauty standard.

i’m trying to point out the underlying belief that drives all of this: that women are only worthy—of care, love, attention, or even respect—if they’re beautiful. not if they’re kind. not if they’re smart or funny or hard-working. just… beautiful. that’s what society teaches, and that’s where beauty privilege comes from. so instead of true empowerment—where a woman is respected for her full humanity—beauty privilege is a shallow, fragile kind of advantage. it disappears the moment she age, gain weight, or don’t fit the ideal standard anymore.

this system is harmful to both women and men. while women are expected to be perfect and valued by their looks, men are judged by their social statuses and valued by his wealth.

for women, the pressure is deeply physical, intimate, and often starts frighteningly young. her body, face, and femininity are constantly under a microscope. she's expected to be beautiful, soft, but not too bold. attractive, but not threatening. perfect, but effortless. it’s exhausting—and dehumanizing. men, on the other hand, are often valued based on external achievements: wealth, status, power, or how many people "respect" him. he's taught to suppress vulnerability, ignore emotions, and "prove" himself through dominance or success. that’s its own kind of trap. but, the bar is significantly lower for men, especially when it comes to looks and basic decency.

this lopsided standard breeds entitlement. many men don’t feel the pressure to improve themselves emotionally or mentally because society already rewards them for simply existing by as males. they're not taught to question how they show up in the world. because the rules are unfair and much easier on men, some men start to believe they deserve love, respect, admiration—even if they don’t work on themselves. they expect it.

men often don’t try to meet their best self because they don’t have to. some men don't feel the need to grow emotionally, be kind or introspective, question how they treat people. for example, a man might be rude, immature, not emotionally aware, and not take care of himself—but still say:

"why don’t women like me?" "i deserve love."

he thinks he’s entitled to a partner or attention—even though he hasn’t put in the work to be someone worth loving. that’s entitlement.

society gives them that cushion. women have no cushion—only expectations.

[cenotaphized]

there's no answer to "why i am me?"

the scariest question to me is still:

"why am i me?"

other question like when i will get married or have babies sounds less scary compared to this one. perhaps because for other queries, i have the answer and it's rational. it's explainable and people will understand. but to find the answer of "why am i me?', i have to dive deep into my self, meet the very vulnerable side of me that no one has ever seen before, not even me myself. and even that, the only anwer i can come up with is that i am me because God simply want me to be me. He didn't make me to become someone else because my life is created just to be mine and i have to live as i am, not as someone else, no matter how much i envy other people's lives.

the question feels so intimidating because it's not just figuring out who i am, but it goes further than that; asking why i exist in the first place. why God give me the trust to be alive, and what purpose do i have.

[cenotaphized]

precaution:

just a heads up!

i'm about to vent, unpack some heavy stuff, and spill thoughts that have been weighing on me. all of my post may include sensitive topics, so please proceed with care. i'm not necessarily looking for advice, but if you want to discuss i'm always up for it.

read only if you have the emotional capacity. take care of yourself first.

before engaging with me any further, do check you are not one of this list.

a zionist, 02 voter & pro regime

any religion-phobic, ableist, racist

a queer-phobic or lgbtq-anti

under 20 years old

problematic (love to engage in unnecessary drama, spread hate & gossips)

acc with heavy harshwords, sexual & nudity scene

acc for sell, gf/bf rent, & roleplay/closed agency stuffs purpose

those who will not engage with me

🔻masterlists: (click on the title to check each posts)

having choices is abundance

i'm an ugly fish from the deep sea

there's no answer to "why i am me?"

men are allowed to be ugly and yet loved, while women are not

one more year until my frontal lobe finally developed

society hates women who talk about or enjoy sex

[cenotaphized]

i'm an ugly fish from the deep sea

every time i meet people, i feel like a fish form the deep sea—strange, ugly, and always seen as odd. i get side glances and whispers, maybe even laughed at for being funny—not in the good way. meanwhile everyone else feels like shallow sea creatures—bright, pretty, always in groups, easy to be around, nice to look at.

social interactions comes natural and easy to them, lik ebreathing underwater. while i have to learn (taking mental or literal notes of it) and i'm struggling to follow along because, oddly, everyone has this some similar wire in their head to control how to think, how to act, what to want in life, what step of life needs to be done, and who to become. to be accepted in the same society they are in, i have to use the same uniform and play pretend and be like them, which resulting in kind of isolation and lonely feeling to me.

when i look at people, i see there's some sort of template, a default in which everyone goes along with without having to rethink or even questioning it. as if society have unspoken script that others just know and flow with, while i—and maybe some other pepole too—have to consciously study about it. even if i try to follow, it only make me feels everything is artificial. like i'm wearing a mask just to be part of the system and being accepted by them, even though it doesn't feel like me.

not that i'm faking identity or being ingenuine or not loving my self. i think this has nothing to do with self love, altough i do love my self (it's still laughable but i won't talk much about this stuff here). because self love alone is not enough, as self-love are more about nurturing your self, being kind to yourself, wanting yourself to be happy and well. it's a way to take care of your physical and mental being. one got to accept their own self completely (self-acceptance) to love their own self. self-acceptance are more about acknowledging who you are, including things you badly wanna get rid of, without needing to fix or change them to be worthy. but then again, people who already know about self-love and self-acceptance sometimes also dealing with belonged to the world around them. it is when they could accept themself as an individual but struggled to be accepted as part of the society, because that self love doesn't automatically translate to social belonging.

social acceptance. one can love and accept themself, but still not being socially accepted. while self-love & acceptance are about internal needs, social acceptance are about the external. it's the feeling of being included, welcomed, and seen as "normal" by group of society. it means people recognize you as someone who belongs—without questioning, rejecting, or tryingto "fix" you. social acceptance isn't necessarily about who you are. sometimes it's about wether you fit in with the unspoken rules or expectations according to societal standard.

take queer people, for example. a queer person might accept who they are and love their identity. they might feek at peace with who they becoming and there's nothing wrong with them. but if we see queer people through the lense of the society, queer person often considered as "not normal". they still met with jdgement, rejections, even people's effort to fix them. so, there's a big gap between self-accepatnec and social acceptance.

social acceptance is something that we have to earn in society where conformity is often more rewarded than authenticity. conformity means blending in, adjsuting ourselves to fit the mold; that invisible standard of what a "normal" person should be. this mold is a silent pressure to shapes how we're expected to dress in a certain way, talk and think in certain way, and live a certain kind of life. the more somene conforms, the less they risk standing out, and in a society where sameness is safer than difference, being liked often means being similar, not being real. so when you don't fit the mold—when someone is a queer, neurodivergent, emotionally deep or sensitive, culutrally different, or just somene who thinks differently—they might feel the pressure to reshape and adjust themself in order to match the society, or have to face being left out and judged.

all of this makes me feel like everything and everyone is so performative, like we are all acting in some sort of stage play and playing the same character, repeating the same scene over and over again. people talk the same, dress the same, and follow the same life timeline just because that's how their ancestors live a life. as if it supposed to be a default setting and everyone just plugs into it without needing to think about it more thoroughly, wether the kind of life is fit to themselves. there's sameness that makes life feel dull and lifeless. the sense of wonder, whimsy, and genuine connection is no longer exist. as if one day, those things are vanished into the void and remained as history.

trends come and go with each season, loudly guiding how people should look, act, think, and even feel. yet, most people follow along without hesitation and if you doin't join in, you start to feel out of place, out of time. like you've fallen behind on some unspoken timeline. but then again, i realized, perhaps it's not performative to them—maybe they're genuinely enjoy it and like it, and all those things are natural to them. and maybe they are not acting because they are born with script of life in their hand, already mastering it without having to learn and adjust.

but for me, i'd say i'm struggling. it is performative. i've been performing—studying, mimicking, adjusting—just to belng, to feel included in whatever society i'm trying to be part of. and you know, when you have to perform all the time, you started to feel disconnected from everything, even from yourself.

on second thought, i think it's also scary to be the real me and being seen as who i am instead of masking everything. this might sounds odd, but i often find my self wondering if i'm autistic or somewhere on autism spectrum. it's just a genuine question i ask my self because i really want to understand. i mean, if i am, then maybe life would be easier to navigate—at least i'd know why i view life and people the way i do. i was once i ask my friends the same question: "have you ever thought you might be autistic too?" and they look at me strangely and laugh, because to them such thoughts are so silly and ridiculous. i guess to them, autism is a complete disability and not a spectrum.

that day, i learned that not everyone questions their life or themselves on daily basis. i also realized that many people—even my friends—still misunderstand what autism actually is. they probably still picture autism as the stereotypical and narrow image society tend to push, and that misunderstanding often comes with ableist atitude. autism is a spectrum. there are so many different form of it—not just what people assume when they think of being broken or disabled in that pitying or mocking tone. it’s about having a different way of sensing, processing, connecting—or not connecting—with the world. a different rhythm to live a life.

at the end of the day, i don't have exact answers why am i lik ethis or why people like that. but i slowly learning that it's okay to be the weird, ugly sea creature no one understand unless to those who freak about ocean, in a world full of pretty, common shallow sea fishes that everyone adores. someday, i'll find a place to belong in society and i know who i am.

[cenotaphized]

having choices is abundance

i think, having choices (or even multiple choices) is actually a big privilege that people may don’t think it is. people tend to think privilege as something big and visible, mostly associated with financial stability (wealth) or family support (background). but having choices—even as simple as what to eat for dinner—is a form privilege itself.

choices is not just a form of options. it's a reflection of freedom, and even some level of security—something not everyone has. for some people, there’s no “what do i want for dinner,” it’s “what can i afford to eat, if anything.” not having to choose what to eat for dinner may extend to not having choices in education, career, or even relationships. it just came to my mind after seeing how little some families have, that sometimes they really don’t have many choices and have to bear with whatever they have at the moment.

poor people have to learn to deal with the situation at hand (not having options), even though they may want to change it and make it better. and rich people may not experience the same thing because they are secured in whatever they are abundant in.

poor people don’t have many things to choose from, and rich people don’t have many things to worry about.

poor people are forced to adapt constantly, to survive with what little they have, even when they want better. meanwhile, rich people often have the luxury to pause, to pick, to plan, to dream — without the same fear of falling. it reminded me of a quote saying;

“some people live to enjoy, some others live to endure”

we may not see it in others for how much they hide their problem or how well they pretend to be fine, but only when you ‘live to endure’ you realize how easy other people’s life is and how much pain you have to carry on your shoulders. jealousy? maybe. we know so well that everyone has their own problem but you know, sometimes, the feeling of envy towards someone who got to live your dream life is inevitable.

back to the topic, having choices is one of the things that separates those two ways of living. when you have choices, you have space — space to breathe, think, plan, dream, make mistakes.when you don’t have choices, you’re stuck in survival mode — constantly reacting to circumstances, with barely any room to exist, let alone enjoy.

but then again, being poor or in poverty, is not always about monetary things. one can be called poor in time (having to work multiple jobs = no time for yourself), social support (no one to rely on), health (no access to good healthcare = constant struggles), freedom (stuck in systems that limit you), hope (feeling like no matter what you do, things won’t change). there’s layers to it. it’s not just about having no cash — it’s about being trapped in circumstances you didn’t choose, with barely any way out.

while poverty is often measured by societal standard, there is another ‘label’ which is quite similar to poverty, and it’s called as “scarcity”. poverty is more like a fixed condition — a state where you have very little resources (like money, food, housing, etc). it’s usually measured: for example, “living under IDR 10.000 a day” is a poverty line. it’s about how much you have compared to society’s standard.

scarcity, on the other hand, is more like a mental and emotional experience — the feeling of “i don’t have enough.” it’s about how you experience your situation, whether or not you’re officially "poor." one can be poor and feel scarcity every day. one can also not be extremely poor, but still experience scarcity — for example, feeling like they never have enough time, never enough emotional support, or always barely managing bills.

poverty is about external situation (lack of resources).

scarcity is about internal pressure (feeling trapped by that lack).

and — scarcity can happen in things other than money, like time, health, emotional safety. poverty usually talks specifically about material or financial lack. in real life, poverty often causes scarcity, but scarcity can exist even beyond official poverty. both hurt, just in slightly different ways.

poverty shrinks your mental bandwidth — because when you’re busy surviving, you can’t afford the "luxury" of big choices, long-term planning, or self-actualization. it’s not because poor people are less capable — it’s because scarcity itself steals mental energy. when you live in scarcity, your brain is forced to focus only on the urgent needs, because there’s a constant feeling of lack. you’re always thinking about "how do i get through today?" instead of "what do i want to become?"

that "always on edge" survival focus steals mental energy — energy that you could’ve used for planning, growing, creating, resting. people under scarcity (even smart, capable people) make more mistakes. they find it harder to think ahead. their IQ temporarily drops because their brain is overloaded by constant worrying. not because they’re dumb — but because scarcity uses up brainpower. just like how when you’re super hungry, tired, or stressed, you can’t think clearly.

scarcity and choices are deeply connected. because scarcity limits choices, and having many choices is a form of privilege.

when you live in scarcity (of money, time, safety, etc), you can’t afford to pick the best, or the healthiest, or the happiest option —you often have to pick whatever is available, whatever is cheapest, or whatever keeps you alive today, even if it’s bad for you long term.

for example;

if you have money scarcity, you can’t choose healthy organic food — you buy instant noodles because that’s what you can afford.

if you have time scarcity, you can’t choose a balanced life — you work extra hours just to survive.

if you have emotional scarcity, you might stay in toxic relationships because you don’t feel you have other support.

meanwhile, people who are abundant in resources have the privilege to choose: what to eat, where to live, how to work, who to love, when to rest. their life becomes about enjoying, exploring, becoming — because they have the resources to choose paths that nourish them.

in scarcity, you often choose between bad and worse. or you have no choice at all — you endure whatever comes.

in abundance: you choose between good and better. you can optimize your life for happiness, health, growth.

scarcity shrinks your choices. privilege expands your choices.

that’s why having choices is a privilege—not everyone gets the space to choose what’s good for them. some people just have to survive whatever is handed to them.