rottenrange

[rottenrange]

i couldn't call myself a dreamer

if the future is the only thing that disturbs my sleep

i always feel like i can smell death,

yet the little child in me still has thousands of stars in her head

the fear still lingers

this worn-out shoes never looked so appealing,

until i couldn't lift my eyes anymore

this worn-out shoes never felt so comfortable,

until i couldn't step on my feet again

go back and forth to decide

if i'm going to keep these stubborn flights

until i left it all as a warehouse scratch

[rottenrange]

.˚💫! 2024 rewind goes a little bit sentimental

— kuta beach, bali, circa 2024

2024.

Such an… awesome year for me. Full of tears if I could say. The year I turned eight teen, with such a beautiful birthday date, 24 · 04 · 2024.

I met a lot of things. I found a lot of things. It was peaceful. Past me would have no idea that I was still struggling— until now.

I cried a lot this year. It was unexpected. I don’t know how — still don’t know how the world works. What are we searching for? Can we slow down? Why everything move so fast? Why everyone move on too fast?

Can we go back to where blood and tears only come out when we fall off our tiny bikes?

I still wanted to play with my brother, my cousin, watching our favorite cartoons while touches of laughters filled up the living room — where did it all go?

This year is full of blood and tears, but not from what my six year old self thought.

Little did I know, this year is full of wondering too. How much I’m still searching for who I am. How much I’m craving for such love. How much I dealt with my feelings, my worries, my future.

I always told them, “I don’t want to talk about it.” Not that I don’t care. I care — I care so much until it makes my stomach turn.

Maybe I should’ve been more grateful. Those are the words that always revolve around my heart.

I may have said this year was full of tears, but the laughter’s being carried too. I should’ve been grateful that love is still near.

Oh Mother, I know that you pour all of your heart into me, but deep down I know how much you carried hope for your last child too.

Can we forget those parts and enjoy our shared love just for a little longer? And then you can bear all your hopes for me through your prayers again, and again, and again.

Maybe this year is full of hope too. Hoping everything will goes well even if the path is imperfect. Hoping I can be more aware of love that stays unseen. And hopefully, she’ll never be tired of being proud of me. My dear little self.