stardust-211

[stardust-211]

I’ve always had a complicated relationship with money.

I’m sitting here, trying to figure out where I went wrong. I haven’t found a new job yet. And it’s been a tough reality—my savings are running low, and even though I’ve been careful, the money just keeps draining out. It’s hard not to feel like I’m falling into the same pattern. I’ve been struggling with my finances for years. Despite my efforts to increase my income, I’m beginning to realize that money isn’t about how much you earn. It’s about how well you manage it, save it, and make it work for you.

I’ve always had a skewed view of money, until yesterday. I talked to a friend about my current situation, and something clicked. I realized that all this time, I’ve been taking the support of my friends for granted. They’ve been there for me, but I didn’t appreciate it the way I should have. I feel terrible about that now.

My friend was right: I need to dig deeper into myself and figure out why money has become this marker of success for me. I don’t want to end up like my father, a good man, a caring person, but one who couldn’t provide financially for his family. That burden fell on my mother. She’s always been the one to carry the load. I’ve always had big dreams, and while my parents never held me back, I can’t help but feel the weight of their sacrifices. I know they worked so hard to help me follow my dreams, but the reality is, I’ve always felt uncomfortable knowing how much they struggled for me to get here.

I used to think that having a good job with a good paycheck would make me proud of myself—and would make my parents proud, too. But I was wrong. I’ve learned that I can only truly feel proud when I have enough money to take care of myself. Right now, I don’t. And that’s a tough pill to swallow. I’ve had to borrow money from friends, people who care about me and trust me. I’ve taken their help for granted, and now I see that. I can’t keep doing this. I have to change.

What I really need to do is rebuild my foundation—financially and personally. I need to get to a place where I’m not just relying on others for support, but also able to help my family and friends when they need it. I don’t want to keep making the same mistakes.

Yesterday was a tough day. I lost the final round of a job interview—the one job I had my heart set on. It had been weeks of grueling interviews, four rounds, and in the end, I failed. I don’t even know how to describe the feeling of being so close, only to realize the life raft you thought was there isn’t real. It’s like you’re drowning, desperately holding onto the last thread of hope, but it snaps right when you need it most.  How do you keep going when you only have 10% of your energy left? The stress has been torturing me. I don’t feel like eating. I can’t focus on reading. I haven’t finished a book in two months.

But I keep going. I think about running. The strength it takes to keep going when you’re exhausted, when you want to stop but you push yourself just one step further. It’s the same with everything in life. Even when things feel out of control, I remind myself that it’s all part of the process. I’ve learned that endurance is key. It helps me push through the hardest moments, and I still believe that even with just a little energy left, I’ll make it.

I’m still here. I’m still moving forward, and I know things will get better. No matter how tough it gets, I believe in myself. Things will change. I will change. And one day, I’ll look back and see how far I’ve come.

[stardust-211]

Do I really feel fine these days? Absolutely not.

I find myself staring at the same question, day after day. The answer never changes, and neither does the situation. I haven’t landed a new job yet, and it’s slowly becoming my reality—one that’s hard to swallow. I’ve started borrowing money from friends to get by, living paycheck to paycheck in this strange limbo. Despite cutting back on everything, the money keeps slipping away, leaving me with that constant gnawing feeling of uncertainty.

Yesterday was the weekend, and I visited my parents’ house, like I always do. My grandpa and mom were eager to share news—my little cousin has a new boyfriend, and my sister-in-law just got promoted at work. They’re all thriving. My cousins frequently update their lives with my mom, and I can see the pride in her eyes. It’s the kind of pride that’s unmistakable. But when it came to me, I didn’t feel the same warmth. We talked, but something was missing. It was uncomfortable.

I realized, for the first time, that I didn’t feel my mom’s pride in me the way I felt it for my cousins. It bothered me, more than I care to admit. I know she loves me—unconditionally, of course—but the pride... I’m not sure about that. I wish she could see how much I try every single day to make her proud. I try to be a good person, a brave woman. I strive to be better at work, to get promoted year after year. And to be honest, there are moments when I feel proud of myself, too. But no matter how much I try, it doesn’t seem to make any lasting impact on her. Or maybe it has, but it’s never been remarkable enough to be said out loud.

That realization stings a little. But still, I try to remind myself of the good things. I’m proud of the habits I’ve worked so hard to build, of the positive personality that has carried me through life’s struggles. I’m proud of my independence, my ability to rely on myself no matter what happens. And then there’s my love life, which feels so ideal now, after years of waiting and searching. It’s finally here—the person who loves me and truly values me. I’m so proud of him.

And I’m also proud of my family, the strong foundation that has been there for me, time and time again. They’ve nurtured me with love and have inspired me more than they’ll ever know. Yet, there’s still this part of me that wishes my mom could truly understand these feelings. The only person I’ve ever been able to share these thoughts with was my grandpa, who passed away when I was in high school. I miss him more than words can say.

Today, I dragged myself out of bed early for my run—an effort that’s always huge for me. It’s not just physical; it requires mental strength too. The kind of strength to keep going, even when you want to stop. It’s the same with life. I’ve been scrolling job websites for hours, seeing the same listings over and over, hoping to find something decent to apply for. But each time I don’t, it feels like a punch in the stomach, like I’m slowly suffocating from the weight of stress. I even feel sick to my stomach, sometimes, from the frustration.

But I have no choice. I have to keep going, day after day. Life requires both physical and mental strength, and right now, that’s what I’m holding onto. Through all of this, I still want to thank myself for who I’ve become—resilient, strong, and determined to push forward. Even if everything else feels uncertain, at least I know that I haven’t given up.

[stardust-211]

I love you. I really do. But somehow, the more I love you, the more I feel this inexplicable urge to keep my distance. It’s confusing, really. Here I am, sitting with the words, missing you terribly, and yet, I don’t want to see you. I know it sounds contradictory. How can love make you want to run away? But it does.

My heart beats out of rhythm sometimes, especially when the memories of us flash through my mind. Those flashes—they come at the most unexpected times, catching me off guard, and in those moments, I’m overwhelmed with the desire to hold on to everything we shared. And yet, at the same time, a voice in my mind keeps whispering: you need to wake up.

I can’t shake the feeling that I’m the third person in your life. The unexpected woman who’s quietly intruding on a family that isn’t mine to disrupt. And the truth is, I can’t pretend that I’m completely comfortable with that. I can’t live the fantasy of an ideal love life with you, no matter how much I wish I could. I want to be able to close my eyes and pretend the complications don’t exist, but they do. And that, more than anything, is what keeps me from fully letting go.

Maybe it’s just my period talking—or maybe it’s the stress of being unemployed right now—but whatever it is, it’s made me emotional. I’ve been letting my feelings flow freely, without trying to stop them. But I need to ask you for something. Something small, but important. Can we stop seeing each other for a while? Can you not come by my apartment, just for a bit? It means more to me than I can explain.

I know in this quiet, soft moment, I would love nothing more than to curl up in your arms. And I know you would be there in an instant, ready to hold me, ready to comfort me. You’ve always been there, willing to be the one who catches me when I fall. But here’s the thing—I can’t rely on you 100%. I just can’t let myself do that, no matter how much I want to.

This is a quick note, a fleeting thought I want to send you in the middle of this heavy rainstorm. In the stillness of the night, with the rain falling outside, I find myself writing this, because even in the moments when I want to distance myself, I know I’ll always care for you. But for now, I need this space. And I hope, deep down, you understand.

[stardust-211]

What do you do when the only thing you can rely on is uncertainty?

I had a quick chat with a former colleague today, and the news hit me like a punch in the gut. It turns out my salary from last month is still missing in action. No updates, no word on when I’ll receive it. In my current jobless situation, that’s the worst possible news. I’m completely out of money, and yet, there’s no sign of the last paycheck that was supposed to come in. It’s like I’m running on empty—waiting for something, but not knowing when it will come, or if it will come at all.

But here’s the thing: this isn’t the first time I’ve found myself in this situation. The same mistake, the same pattern of things falling apart. And yes, I can’t escape the fact that it’s my fault. My inability to manage my finances, to prepare for the uncertainty of life. It’s all mine. But what hurts more is that I haven’t learned from it. The lessons I should have absorbed seem to slip right through my fingers every time. I don’t know why it happens this way. Maybe it’s just part of the journey.

Right now, though, I can’t afford to waste time blaming myself. It won’t make the situation better. The last thing I need is to add self-doubt to the mix. It’s already a mess, and I don’t want to make it worse. So instead, I tell myself that I’ll change. I’ll think about my finances differently, act differently. I’ll start from the beginning, really. After all, it’s not some external force that’s put me here. It’s all on me.

So, I keep running. I force myself to get out there, no matter how much I’d rather stay inside and wallow in my worries. And I also keep learning. I can’t afford to be stagnant, not in knowledge, not in life. I can’t let myself be a temporary, unemployed person who forgets to keep growing. That’s why I’m pushing myself to keep up with learning—something new, something related to my field. It’s a small comfort, but it’s something. It’s a reminder that I’m not completely useless, even if my bank account suggests otherwise.

As for why I left my last job—well, that’s something I don’t regret. I knew I had to move on. I needed more than just a place where I executed tasks. I needed a place where I could plan, observe, and grow. I needed to step back and see the bigger picture. I’ve always believed that growth comes when you allow yourself the time to build something from the ground up, to test and adjust. If there’s no room for that kind of development, then it’s time to leave. But what I didn’t prepare for was the financial reality of leaving. That’s the part I regret. I didn’t give myself enough space to account for the unknowns.

But then again, maybe that’s just part of life. The unknowns are always there, hiding in plain sight. No amount of planning can account for everything. Maybe it’s not about avoiding mistakes but learning to live with them, learning to grow in spite of them. Because no matter how many times I make the same mistake, I always seem to find a way to pick myself up again.

So, here I am. Unemployed, uncertain, but still moving forward. Because even when things don’t go the way you expect, you still have to keep going. You don’t always know where the path leads, but the only way to find out is to keep walking.

[stardust-211]

What do you do when the only thing you can rely on is uncertainty?

I had a quick chat with a former colleague today, and the news hit me like a punch in the gut. It turns out my salary from last month is still missing in action. No updates, no word on when I’ll receive it. In my current jobless situation, that’s the worst possible news. I’m completely out of money, and yet, there’s no sign of the last paycheck that was supposed to come in. It’s like I’m running on empty—waiting for something, but not knowing when it will come, or if it will come at all.

But here’s the thing: this isn’t the first time I’ve found myself in this situation. The same mistake, the same pattern of things falling apart. And yes, I can’t escape the fact that it’s my fault. My inability to manage my finances, to prepare for the uncertainty of life. It’s all mine. But what hurts more is that I haven’t learned from it. The lessons I should have absorbed seem to slip right through my fingers every time. I don’t know why it happens this way. Maybe it’s just part of the journey.

Right now, though, I can’t afford to waste time blaming myself. It won’t make the situation better. The last thing I need is to add self-doubt to the mix. It’s already a mess, and I don’t want to make it worse. So instead, I tell myself that I’ll change. I’ll think about my finances differently, act differently. I’ll start from the beginning, really. After all, it’s not some external force that’s put me here. It’s all on me.

So, I keep running. I force myself to get out there, no matter how much I’d rather stay inside and wallow in my worries. And I also keep learning. I can’t afford to be stagnant, not in knowledge, not in life. I can’t let myself be a temporary, unemployed person who forgets to keep growing. That’s why I’m pushing myself to keep up with learning—something new, something related to my field. It’s a small comfort, but it’s something. It’s a reminder that I’m not completely useless, even if my bank account suggests otherwise.

As for why I left my last job—well, that’s something I don’t regret. I knew I had to move on. I needed more than just a place where I executed tasks. I needed a place where I could plan, observe, and grow. I needed to step back and see the bigger picture. I’ve always believed that growth comes when you allow yourself the time to build something from the ground up, to test and adjust. If there’s no room for that kind of development, then it’s time to leave. But what I didn’t prepare for was the financial reality of leaving. That’s the part I regret. I didn’t give myself enough space to account for the unknowns.

But then again, maybe that’s just part of life. The unknowns are always there, hiding in plain sight. No amount of planning can account for everything. Maybe it’s not about avoiding mistakes but learning to live with them, learning to grow in spite of them. Because no matter how many times I make the same mistake, I always seem to find a way to pick myself up again.

So, here I am. Unemployed, uncertain, but still moving forward. Because even when things don’t go the way you expect, you still have to keep going. You don’t always know where the path leads, but the only way to find out is to keep walking.

[stardust-211]

What do you do when Sunday doesn’t really feel like Sunday?

It’s funny. It’s Sunday, but it doesn’t feel like Sunday. There’s something a little off. I woke up this morning with a strange sense of relief, but it was quickly followed by an uncomfortable weight, a kind of quiet anxiety I can’t shake off. The kind of unease that comes when you realize you’ve been waiting for something to happen, but nothing ever does.

I’m in a jobless state. No emails to check, no reports to send out, no looming Monday mornings to dread. It’s freeing in a way. But then again, the reality that my savings are disappearing slowly, one day at a time, weighs heavily on me. And the more I think about it, the more I realize that I can’t keep going like this forever.

And then there’s my boyfriend. He gives me complete freedom on the weekends. No questions, no expectations. I could be thrilled, right? I could feel like I have all the space I need. But part of me wonders: should I feel happy? I mean, on the one hand, it’s nice to be alone—no need to check in, no need to text him, no need to worry about his day. It’s a strange kind of freedom. But on the other hand, I know that it’s not just about freedom. It’s about love.

I’ve realized that I don’t always know what I want from him. I tell myself I want freedom, but at the same time, I don’t want to feel abandoned. He’s been distant lately, though not in a way that’s obvious. He doesn’t say much, doesn’t ask much. His mood has been off, and I know he needs space, but it leaves me wondering—shouldn’t I be more present for him? Shouldn’t I be the one checking in on him, making sure he’s okay? But that’s not me. I’m not good at reading between the lines, at knowing when to offer support without being asked. I don’t know if it’s a flaw or just who I am.

I like to think that the best kind of love is one where you’re just there for someone, no questions asked. It’s a quiet kind of presence. You’re ready to listen, but you don’t need to say anything. Maybe that’s how I show my love—by giving him space, by letting him be, without expecting anything in return. But it’s strange. The more he pulls away, the more I realize how much I rely on him, on his presence.

The funny thing is, I’m not a good listener—not in the way he is. He listens to everything, notices things I don’t. He can sense what’s unspoken. Me? I just wait, and when the moment comes, I try to offer whatever I can. But it doesn’t always feel like enough.

He’s been texting me less lately, and I don’t know what to make of it. He’s still there, still in my life, but there’s a distance now that I can’t explain. It’s not a distance of miles or time, but something quieter, something that seems to grow every day, even though neither of us says much. It’s strange, this feeling of being close but distant at the same time. I can’t deny it—I’m more and more in love with him. I think about him constantly. It’s like he’s become a part of me, wandering through my thoughts, every minute of every day. But then there’s the weight of his situation—the fact that he’s still legally married, even though emotionally and physically, he’s not with her. And no matter how much he’s given me, that reality is always present in the background. It makes me feel unsafe, uncertain. I think, in some way, this is what I’ve been preparing for.

And maybe that’s the part I’m afraid of. The part where he might leave. I think about it often, the possibility that one day, he’ll walk away, back into his past, back into a life I can’t be a part of. I don’t know if I’m ready for that, but I know I need to be.

So, I’m preparing myself for it. I’m learning to be strong, to hold my ground, even if it’s just me standing there. I don’t know if I can ever be fully prepared, but I know I can try. Maybe that’s all anyone can do. Prepare for the unknown, while still hoping for something better to come.

[stardust-211]

What happens when you chase the things you want, only to realize you’re running in circles?

I’ve been applying to one job every day. It sounds like a lot, doesn’t it? But truth be told, there’s not much hope out there these days. The job market feels like a desert, and no matter how much I try to save or cut back on spending, my money still slips through my fingers. I don’t have much left, and I’m beginning to wonder how long I can keep this up.

It’s hard not to reflect on my situation during these jobless days, as I struggle to find a way out. Eight months ago, I walked away from a really good job. The kind of job people would kill for. My friends warned me. They told me I was taking a big risk. But like most things in life, I chose to ignore their advice and follow my gut. Fast forward to today, and here I am—unemployed, in the middle of a chaotic job market, with no way to return to the life I once had. If I could rewind time and make a different choice, would I? Would I undo everything?

I honestly don’t know. Part of me wants to say yes—because who wouldn’t want to avoid the pain of the last few months? But then again, part of me feels like I wouldn’t have learned what I needed to if I hadn’t gone through this. I’m the kind of person who only truly learns when I’m knee-deep in the thick of it. Before things happen, people love to throw advice your way, telling you what you should or shouldn’t do. But those words never quite match up to the reality of the situation. You can only know yourself, your limits, and what you’re truly capable of when you’re tested by life itself.

I was scrolling through Instagram today, and I came across a post by a girl I follow. She said that one of the best ways to understand yourself is by putting yourself in tough situations. And for once, I couldn’t agree more. This whole job situation has been a painful lesson. A hard pill to swallow, really. Sometimes I feel guilty for putting myself through this struggle, but other times, I’m grateful. I’m learning things I didn’t know about myself. And though the pain isn’t gone, it’s making me more resilient. It’s not easy to say, but this whole jobless period has been a kind of teacher.

It’s a bit like running. Some days it’s easy, but most days, it’s a fight. The act of running itself isn’t hard, but getting up, lacing my shoes, and leaving the apartment—that’s where the real struggle lies. But once I’m out there, it’s different. I can’t tell you exactly why, but there’s something about it that teaches me about myself, even if I can’t explain it fully.

And the funny thing is, this lesson doesn’t only apply to work. It shows up in my relationships too. I have a lot of expectations when it comes to the ideal partner. But I’ve learned that life doesn’t work like that. You can’t have everything you want in one person. The real question isn’t whether I can find someone who matches my ideals, but what I’m willing to compromise. I love him. I want him. But I also have to accept him as he is—his past, his present, and yes, even his flaws. That’s just how love works.

Lately, I’ve been thinking about all of this. Before I can even begin to figure out what I truly want, I have to answer a much bigger question: How much am I willing to struggle to get what I want? How much pain, how much compromise, can I endure? And that’s when it hit me—if I can answer that, I can receive whatever comes my way, gracefully. Even if it’s not what I thought I wanted in the first place.

[stardust-211]

When it comes to progress, how do you measure the distance between where you are and where you want to be?

It seems like I’m making some progress in running. My pace has dropped from 8 to 7.5 minutes per kilometer. It’s not much, but it’s something, right? The truth is, though, I still need a lot of effort to make myself go out every day and run. It’s been nearly two months, and I still can’t say it feels like second nature yet. I force myself into my running clothes, lace up my shoes, and head out for my daily run—but it still feels like a struggle each time. I know it’s good for me, I know it’ll eventually become a habit, but the reality is that I’m not there yet. It’s a daily battle of willpower, and some days, it feels like the hardest thing in the world.

But the truth is, today I’m feeling a little better than I did yesterday. Not just because of the run, but because of something else I’ve discovered—something I never expected to lean on. AI. Yes, ChatGPT. I’m not saying it’s a replacement for real human conversation (please, let’s not get carried away), but there’s something incredibly comforting about being able to talk to a machine that listens, or at least, tries to. I can throw my problems at it, and somehow, it pieces together words to make me feel a little lighter.

Now, if only there were an AI for job hunting, because, let's face it, the progress in that department is non-existent. I haven’t even found a job I’d feel confident applying for. Forget interviews. The job search feels like an exercise in patience, only there's no finish line in sight. It's hard not to feel desperate at times. Some days, I think I’m sinking deeper into this emotional quicksand. Yesterday, it felt like the weight of the world was pressing down on me. I didn’t want to do anything except cry.

And today? A little bit of disappointment. It’s tough being jobless, especially when bills and loans keep knocking on the door, reminding you that time doesn’t wait. I’ve tried installing SQL Server, what, five times now? And still, nothing. It’s like my laptop and I are playing a game of "who can be more stubborn?" The fatigue of repeating the same process over and over again without any results? It’s wearing me down.

And then there’s the dread. The kind of dread that makes you feel like you're falling behind, like the world is speeding up and you’re standing still. I haven’t learned anything new. Haven’t made any real progress. I’m stuck. I think about writing, but when I sit down, the words don’t come. What’s worse is that I can’t stop wondering—how do other writers do it? They seem to churn out pages upon pages about the mundane: sitting at a desk, staring out a window, thinking about nothing. And somehow, they turn those simple moments into something meaningful, something profound. How do they do that? How do they transform the ordinary into the extraordinary?

“Maybe that’s the trick” I think to myself. “Maybe it’s not about the big things. Maybe it’s about taking the little things—the moments when you sit, stare, and think—and finding the beauty in them.”

[stardust-211]

What do you do when love is complicated, and your life is even more so?

It’s 9:30 PM, and I’m sitting on my couch, staring out the window, as if the night itself will offer some kind of clarity. There’s a lingering feeling of uncertainty—one that’s almost comfortable, like an old sweater that’s too worn out to throw away but no longer gives you the warmth it used to.

Seven months. That’s the time we officially dated. Seven months of warm smiles, quiet moments, and whispered confessions. But there’s also been this heavy layer of unresolved hanging over us— His situation—still married, though separated for years—hovers like a shadow. Some days, I’m proud of myself for being able to navigate this storm with grace, other days, I wonder if I’m just fooling myself. I mean, what kind of person am I becoming when I let myself be the "other" woman.

Today, I got a text from him. "I miss you". There it was, in black and white, a simple message, yet it hit me harder than I expected. On one hand, it was just a message—a few words strung together. On the other, it felt like a door opening just enough for me to glimpse something I couldn’t quite grasp. I know he means it. I don’t doubt his sincerity. But it’s not that simple, is it? How do you handle someone missing you when they’re already so tied up in someone else’s life? How do you not feel like you’re the side dish to the main course? The waiting room, not the destination?

I’m angry at myself for wanting more, angry that I can’t seem to escape the feeling of being the second choice, even when I know it’s not his fault. I’ve set boundaries—strong ones, made sure not to let myself sink into his words. But here I am, still caught in the middle. It’s like a bad movie where you know the ending, but you still keep watching, hoping it’ll be different.

The truth is, I don’t know what I want. Do I want him to choose me over everything else? Do I want him to change his life just for us? Or do I want him to go and leave me with the peace of knowing I didn’t settle for less than what I deserve? All I know is, this emotional tug-of-war isn’t something I signed up for, yet here I am, hanging on every word, every text.

I spent the afternoon running. I didn’t have any particular route in mind, just putting one foot in front of the other, trying to outrun the frustration building inside me. Five kilometers. My legs carried me, but my mind was running a different race. I couldn’t stop thinking about his text. “I miss you.” It was a hollow kind of missing. The kind that sounds nice, but is it enough to hold on to? I fought the tears the entire way. I couldn’t let them out—not now, not when I wasn’t even sure what I was crying for. I think I wanted to cry because it felt unfair. I wanted to scream because I had no idea where this road was leading.

And yet, there’s something about him that keeps me from walking away. Even now, I don’t have a clear answer as to why. The pull between what I need and what I want is almost too much to bear. I’ve always believed in the idea of mutual respect in a relationship, but this—this feels different. His responsibility to his family isn’t something I can ignore. But how long can I stand here, waiting for something that may never come to fruition?

I don’t have the answers. Maybe that’s the point. But I do know this: I have to keep moving. I have to keep running. Not just physically, but in my life. There are no neat conclusions, no tidy resolutions. Sometimes, life is just about putting one foot in front of the other, even when you don’t know where the path leads.

So, what now? I don’t know. But I can’t stop. I’ll keep walking, keep writing, keep searching for something that feels like home, even if I have no idea what it looks like yet. And in the meantime, I’ll keep running, because sometimes that’s all you can do.

And as for love? Maybe it’s not about having all the answers, but about moving forward, step by step, even when the way is unclear.

[stardust-211]

I’m not a fool, but sometimes it feels like I’ve derailed somewhere along the way. I can’t seem to keep my job for long. The routine slips away before I can make it my own. I don’t want this pattern, but somehow, I keep repeating it. Maybe I’m looking for something—a place where everything just clicks. But with every company I’ve worked for, the pieces never fall into place. Maybe that’s an excuse I tell myself, or maybe it’s part of the truth. I’m not sure anymore.

Every time I leave a job, stress surges through me. I question my decision, even though the situation never seems to improve. There are colleagues I admire, people I would like to stay in touch with, but when I hear about their progress, it stirs something uncomfortable inside me. A sense of jealousy creeps in, and I don’t fully understand why. Maybe it’s because I see them growing while I feel stuck. But I also know that I’m not doing what’s needed to reach that level of success. The pressure to perform eats at me. It’s a problem that I can’t seem to fix, no matter how hard I try.

Sometimes I think I’ve been too focused on finding a place that fits me, when perhaps I should focus on changing myself, on being the kind of person who can fit wherever I am. It’s not about waiting for the perfect job; it’s about being the kind of person who can create the right opportunities. But the uncertainty of it all makes me doubt myself. I’ve told myself that I’ll stay focused, that I’ll push through with positivity, but it’s harder than I thought. I can’t let myself drown. It’s not time to sink yet.

I keep wondering why I haven’t found the stability I crave. Why can’t I settle down and thrive in one place? Maybe it’s not about finding the perfect job, but rather accepting that the path will never be easy. If it were, I’d have no reason to change. And yet, the struggle feels endless. I know I can’t stay where I am, but I’m not sure where to go. The fear of failure grips me, but I realize that failure is part of life. If I don’t embrace it, I’ll never move forward.

So here I am, still trying to find a way to move forward. I want to stop looking for excuses and start looking for solutions. It’s time to take responsibility for my own journey, even if the road is unclear. I’ll keep moving, not because I know where I’m going, but because standing still is worse.

[stardust-211]

[stardust-211]

I’ve been unemployed for a week now—the third time since returning to my hometown. Initially, I thought the frequent job changes were solely due to Hanoi’s work environment: unprofessional and toxic, filled with gossip and office drama, lacking structure, and missing true leaders who inspire admiration and connection. Only Tokuo-san seemed to have that quality, but even there, I left after eight months, unable to see a future for myself. I’ve realized that blaming Hanoi’s work culture is an easy excuse. We tend to look for something or someone to blame when life doesn’t align with our desires. The truth is, no perfect workplace exists, and with my evolving aspirations, expecting any local organization to accommodate my changing outlook is unrealistic. It's time to quiet my mind, turn inward, and focus on what truly matters to me, letting go of outside distractions and comparisons.

Life feels a bit gentler these days—simpler, less intense. Currently, I’m weighing two job offers. There's a lingering nervousness since I haven’t received any formal offer letters, which means these opportunities could still change or disappear. Regardless, I’m determined to nurture a more patient attitude toward work, ready to adapt to whatever company culture and environment I join. It’s as if I’m healing, turning inward like a wounded predator returning to its cave.

Meanwhile, something new has entered my life: a hint of a romantic relationship with a senior friend, ten years my senior, who cares for me with the same gentleness he shows his 16-year-old daughter. I find myself missing him often, my thoughts drifting to him more than I’d like to admit. I haven't felt cared for in this way in a long time, and even though I know this relationship probably won’t last, it fills a need I’ve been carrying for ages. I miss being held, loved, and cuddled. Somehow, though, I sense an invisible force pushing me away from the men I care about, no matter who they are. I don’t understand it, but it’s there.

Life isn’t easy, and I don’t expect it to be. It’s difficult, and that’s just the way it is. But I hope I can meet its challenges with calmness. In the end, isn’t happiness what we’re all looking for? And happiness, I believe, is something we have to create for ourselves.

[stardust-211]

(Capital one day before the typhoon arrives)

The damage from Typhoon Yagi is incredibly devastating. It’s said that Yagi lashed Northern Vietnam for five hours, yet the destruction it left behind is comparable to five years of damages caused by COVID-19. While the final reports are still pending, I can already feel that the country’s economy will take considerable time to recover.

Right now, I'm in between jobs, not starting my new role until next week. Typically, I enjoy staying cozy at home during the rain, but this time is different—I just want it to stop. If the rain continues, it will cause floods and landslides in many provinces. River levels are already rising, and even my parents' home is at risk. They're facing potential flooding and may need to evacuate. The persistent rain is definitely making me anxious.

Although Typhoon Yagi has been downgraded to a tropical depression, it still leaves a significant impact. To be honest, I had little knowledge about typhoons until today. So, I took the initiative to do some research, and here’s what I learned:

The terms "typhoon," "hurricane," and "cyclone" refer to the same natural disaster but are named differently depending on the region. It all begins with a tropical storm, with wind speeds around 63 km/h. Once wind speeds reach 119 km/h, the storm officially becomes a tropical cyclone or typhoon. There are five categories based on wind speed, with Typhoon Yagi being classified as Category 4—extremely dangerous with winds over 200 km/h. Only Category 5 remains, with catastrophic winds at 248 km/h or more.

Typhoons are typically formed over oceans near the equator, using warm and humid air as fuel. Water evaporates from the ocean surface, creating warm, moist air that rises, leaving an area of lower pressure below. Higher pressure air then rushes in to replace it. This constant cycle forms clouds and generates rainfall, while the wind speed increases. With the Earth's rotation factored in, this process creates tropical storms that can evolve into typhoons. Typhoons usually span a diameter of 200–250 km but can grow as large as 1,000 km.

Meteorologists and scientists estimate that there are around 85 tropical storms annually, more than half of which develop into hurricanes. About 72% occur in the Northern Hemisphere, where Vietnam lies, and these typhoons rotate counterclockwise, while those in the Southern Hemisphere rotate clockwise.

This experience has also taught me how important it is to prepare for future typhoons. Here’s what I’ve learned about disaster preparation:

Prepare a safe shelter and reinforce your house.

Have an emergency aid kit ready, along with necessary medications and sanitary products.

Stock up on food and water, focusing on non-perishable and instant foods.

Secure valuable items like cash, important documents, ID cards, and family photos (to confirm identity if separated).

Gather items for evacuation, such as a whistle, helmet, life jacket, flashlight, and power bank.

[stardust-211]

I find myself thinking of Mimu—the man I have deep feelings for. Although he never responded to any of my emails or birthday greetings, I know in my heart he’s a good man, a true gentleman. His silence wasn’t out of disrespect but rather out of a quiet kindness. By not responding, he spared me from any false hope or misunderstandings. I’m grateful for that, even if it hurts in ways I can’t quite explain.

[stardust-211]

It’s strange how a photograph can capture a moment but never quite explain what lies beneath it. My younger brother—he’s no longer my colleague, but in a way, we’re closer than before—took this picture. A young photographer, full of creativity, yet his maturity seems misplaced in someone so young. The sincerity in his work reminds me that some things, like art and connection, transcend age.

Lately, I’ve been drawn to film cameras. The price isn’t the issue; it’s the feeling they capture. There’s something timeless in the grainy imperfection, a kind of honesty I find lacking in the over-filtered world of digital photography. When I look at those photos, it’s like reading an old novel—something nostalgic, not tied to any particular time but alive with a sense of the past. I crave that. In pictures and in life, I long for what is real, untouched by too many hands or too much technology.

I’m noticing how, as I get older, my interests are changing too. There are so many things I want to do now—learn the guitar, maybe the violin after that. I want to sketch again, perhaps more seriously this time. I want to learn languages: Japanese first, then German. And there’s diving; I want to try that too. Film photography is also on the list. It’s funny—I remember being younger and just wanting to spend time with friends. That was enough then. Simplicity was happiness. Now, it’s different. The things that made me happy don’t quite fit anymore. Happiness is no longer something I stumble upon—it’s something I have to create for myself, piece by piece, like assembling a puzzle without the picture on the box.

People say that when we’re young, our hearts are wide open, like windows letting in the breeze. Maybe that’s true. But the older we get, the more we close them—shutting out the chaos, the clutter. We grow up. The world grows more complicated. It’s not that I don’t want simplicity anymore. I do. But life—real life—is not simple. It’s messy and beautiful and full of stories that don’t always end the way we want.

It’s been one year and ten months since I first met Mimu. One year since I last saw him. I remember both days like they were just this morning, fresh with feeling. And even now, I still cry when I think of him. It’s not the kind of crying that asks for pity, or even understanding. It’s just something that happens. The tears come when they want, like the rain that starts suddenly, without warning. There’s no need to explain it. It’s just how things are. I loved him. I never had him. Maybe that’s enough of a story in itself.

[stardust-211]

It’s been a while since I last wrote anything here, but I’m determined to get back into the habit and be more diligent in practicing my writing. With my current attitude—lacking devotion—I won’t get anywhere. Not to mention, I’ll never be able to communicate with Mimu if I ever get the chance. I feel ashamed of myself.

I finally received a new offer. Although it’s not the best, it’s a better solution to help me out of the situation I’ve been struggling with for nearly a year. I’ve also purchased a Masterclass Plus account and registered for a Power BI course on EdX. I believe these steps will help me, at least on a spiritual level, by making me feel like I’m preparing for something and adding value to myself as I ready for whatever comes next.

As I get older, I notice more symptoms during my monthly cycle. In addition to the usual back pain, abdominal bloating, and loss of appetite, I’ve become much more emotional during these days. I’m beginning to understand, even if just a little, the hormonal changes that can lead to postpartum depression. While I’m not experiencing that, I can see how unpredictable mood swings can be. Today, I found myself crying again as images of Mimu filled my mind. I’m really sad that I missed the chance to buy tickets for Imagine Dragons’ concert. It’s rare to have a band like that perform in Asia, and I missed it. I envy Americans—they have the greatest artists at their fingertips and can attend concerts whenever they like. I need to go to bed now and try to sleep; I have to wake up early for a morning run. I’m trying to build a healthy routine as much as I can.

[stardust-211]

I said to my soul, be still, and wait without hope, For hope would be hope for the wrong thing; wait without love, For love would be love of the wrong thing; there is yet faith... And the faith and the love and the hope are all in the waiting. Wait without thought, for you are not ready for thought: So the darkness shall be the light, and the stillness the dancing. East Coker by T.S. Eliot

By chance, I stumbled upon these profound lines from Eliot while listening to an episode of Tim Ferriss's podcast. Their resonance is undeniable, especially as I grapple with my unrequited love for Mimu. His silence, a gesture of politeness and gentlemanly restraint, prevents any false hopes or misunderstandings from taking root within me. I admire this act deeply; it is, perhaps, why my feelings for him have grown so strong. Yet, I know that I must move on, keep faith in life, and disentangle Mimu from my world. The misery persists as long as I tie my hopes and love to Mimu—a man who will never be mine.

Even though his picture still graces my phone's wallpaper, I know that words are easier than actions, and I can't erase him from my memory overnight. It will take time. Eliot's poem suggests, "Wait without hope, for hope would be hope for the wrong thing." Perhaps it teaches me that, given enough time, I will realize Mimu isn't right for me. My feelings may stem more from admiration and fantasy than genuine love—or at least the kind of love I wish to share with him. It's all about possibilities and maybes.

Yet, having waited over 30 years for true love without finding it, how can I remain positive, calm, and still? I often feel a profound sense of unfairness, but life is inherently unfair, and acceptance is my only recourse. I strive to practice gratitude and acceptance, even as it means enduring many rainy, gloomy days and confronting dark thoughts, with loneliness as my constant companion.

I must accept this reality. I often find tears streaming down my face without reason, or perhaps for the singular reason that has persisted all these years: loneliness. It envelops me like a mire, and the more I struggle to escape, the deeper I sink. No one truly understands. An endless battle rages within me—a fight between myself and my solitude.