I’m gone.

tell me all your dark shit. i promise that i’ll stay.
keep me in the dark , &you’ll push, push me away.
there’s nothing you could say that would change you & i.
but not trusting me , not opening up, very well may.

tell me you love me.

too much or not enough. all in or so completely done.

tell me you love me, or I’m done holding out, done holding on.

just say the word, &i’ll be yours. in love.

or leave me assuming, guessing. I’ll conclude unlovable, you’ve moved on.

caught in a spiral. but hearing those words, brings me right back to where we are.

my mind is a dark place. I need sparks to fly, or my fire for you is, just like that, bye, gone.

bullshit wake up call.

started falling, &you tripped me.

living the dream, &you woke me up.

was head over heals, &you pushed me down.

was all in, &you pulled me out.

just when I thought we were it all, you saved me with your bullshit wake up call.

the real shit, that’s hot.

I love the broken. I chase after problems.

I love the broken because it’s real, &it’s honest. &owning your shit, that’s my kind of turn on.

I love the real. I chase after honest.

I chase after problems because it’s raw &it’s vulnerable. &letting me see your shit means you’re all in.

I love the raw. I chase after vulnerable.

all or nothing.

feeling fire, or complete self loath.

totally falling, or in no way interested next.

bottling up shit, or spilling it all.

would kill for you, or so done fuck off.

all or nothing. cognitive distortion. no middle ground. it get’s messy avoiding all the grey around.

somethings.

having something good scares me. but I’m not afraid of it, I’m intrigued by it.

having something I could lose makes me nervous. I’m uncomfortable, but somehow totally into it.

having something different than anything I’ve known before freaks me out. but I’m loving it. &just want more of it.

let’s talk about trauma.

just because someone’s trauma seems worse than yours does *not* minimize your pain.

just because someone’s experiences seem more “traumatic” //by societies standards//, does not invalidate your suffering.

everyone’s hard is different. &everyone experiences hard differently.

you are //guilt-free// valid.

the in between.

when nothing is wrong but things don’t feel right.

when you feel worn out, exhausted but can’t tell what is doing the beat down.

when you want things to feel, to be, different but don’t know what to change.

that’s where I’m at. in the in between.

between realizing I deserve better &knowing what that better looks like. between understanding things need to change &actually having the game plan.

life is a process. there’s a season for rest. there’s a season for growth. &there’s a season for not having a damn clue.

it’s beautiful, the real shit.

it’s a process, you know, owning up to your shit. first you aren’t aware your shit even exists, you deny it to yourself. but eventually you realize what’s really going on. &you realize that thing you’ve labeled //flaw// is a thing you should hide from the world. so then you spend years trying to fake it. //it’s exhausting. it changes you//. you get so caught up in trying to hide your one bit of imperfection that you lose all the rest of you. but //there’s hope// cause one day you realize, life should not be this hard. you realize speaking your truth is so much easier than finding five ways to cover it up. so you show your shit. &you know what, it’s beautiful. //the imperfect, the vulnerability, the realness//. by showing yourself to others, maybe just maybe you help someone, anyone start their process towards real truth, real life, being finally able to breathe.

bigger me, bigger life.

I’ve been joining in, making memories, living life to the fullest. &with that came gains. I gained experiences. I gained relationships. I gained weight. &even in the midst of all the living,laughing,loving (lol, cringing), still the thoughts sneak in. the thoughts about my body. you know, the ones that say I need to lose the weight I’ve gained. those shit thoughts creeped in tonight. &me writing this is my way of //figuratively// slapping myself straight.

wtf ana.

yeah losing weight seeeeems nice. but to lose the weight, I’d have to lose SO much more. I’d have to lose friends. I’d have to lose mental clarity. lose drinks out with the girls. lose celebratory treats with my new work fam. the losses, they go on&on.

so am I willing to give up so much for one thing, a smaller me? nope. am I willing to shrink the joy I have in my new life to shrink my waist? nope.nope.

if bigger me means bigger life, then well… I’m here for it.

do your best, release the rest.

you are not in control of other’s opinions of you. you are not in control of what they think&say. you can control your reaction to the rumors,lies,gossip. you can control if you care on that day.

&to think you can control others sets unrealistic expectations. to think you can control others places you on a pedestal, you aren’t the best //realization//.

your life is enough to handle, without getting involved in all the ones around you. control the things you can control (&that are healthy to), do your best. &release all the rest.

to start the week.

I see life as a joy to live, no longer a fight to win.

I wake up excited for what is in store, rather than counting down to bed time, how many more..?

but what has changed? the world around me, or me at the core?

I’ve changed what I allow myself to see. I live life the way I’ve always wished it be. I live each day as a celebration. today is never again, that’s the occasion.

how much more beautiful this world we live in, when the beauty we see starts from within.

flawed goals.

maybe there are no human //flaws//. maybe those are just human //realities// in which society randomly chose to label as imperfect.

maybe the goals we are striving for are the most flawed of all.

would we still have insecurities if beauty standards did not exist? what would we choose to look like? dress like? act like? … if society never wrote us the rules for being “good” “enough” “a-list”.

after all this time, I’ve really lost sight of me. is all this what I really want? or is this what I’ve just been told to be.

I’ll be back soon.

when your life is going so well that you’ve got zero inspo for writing… that’s me right here, right now. so brb, I’ve got fun somethings to do. but I’ll be back soon, because when there’s ups, there’s always downs. that’s life. &thats okay. life isn’t being lived if we don’t experience all the bits. xoxo.

distorted reality.

we create our own reality thru pretty shit biases.

… we compare our worst of days to others’ highlight reels.

… we jump to the conclusion that everyone knows everything we do plus so much more.

… we down play our pain&hurting because that one person out in the world must be worse off.

… we assume everyone is happier, prettier, smarter, more successful than us because that’s logical, right?

the way we see the world is distorted. we only let ourselves see the good bits&pieces of people’s lives, &we reject all the rest, all the negative. we then take those pieces, pile them all together &create one perfect human. &lastly we then force ourselves into comparison with these imaginary perfect creatures.

//example//. I could see a girl walking down the street. She’s fit. so naturally, I zoom in on her body. it is the most perfect body. she is the most perfect girl. & has the most perfect life. //I’m spiraling//. I must be like her. &because I am not her, well I suck.

but wait a second diva, zoom out. her body is only one thing going on in her life. &she also is only one girl on this street. you see how quickly I jumped to very dark, very scary conclusions about myself all because one person had one good thing going for them. //how shit is that//? buuuuut we all do it, like all the time.

we create our own reality. &we’ve got to start creating one we deserve, a pretty damn good one.

instead of assuming, ask.

instead of assuming, ask. instead of judging, try to understand. &then maybe just maybe this world &the people in it won’t be as big&bad as they seem.

I recently was described as “unfriendly unless I was really trying to not be” //harsh//. but the real bitch in this story is actually not me. //hang with me on this//.

the girl saying these less than nice things about me not once tried to get to know me. not once did this girl ever ask me who I am. instead of taking the time to get to know me, she took that time &wasted it. she took that time to create a narrative of who she ~wanted~ me to be.

maybe this “unfriendly me” was shy. maybe “unfriendly me” was in thought, stuck inside my own head. or maybe “unfriendly me” was tired, hurting, in way too deep with an eating disorder. //cause I was//. but she wouldn’t know that. because she didn’t care. so now neither do I. she can have what she wanted, the story she created about me. she gets unfriendly me because well she’s a story writer. &I’m tired of those. I am tired of giving chances out to people who give me none.

my little (but really kinda big) wins

not having to bring a sweater everywhere.

but also getting to buy sweaters //&all clothes// in real adult sizes.

sitting in all kinds of chairs, even the hard ones.

not waking up in the middle of the night hungry.

creamer in my coffee.

going to a restaurant &not already have planned out my meal.

ordering straight from the menu, no on the sides for me.

saying yes to plans that might involve food.

or saying yes to plans that are during my “normal” meal times.

no matter how seemly small a win may appear, that “small” win may be big for someone. without fear of judgement, fiercely celebrate all your wins. I know I am.

don’t believe everything you hear

don’t believe everything you think.
don’t believe everything you hear.
don’t trust everything you are told.
don’t trust everything you see as you scroll.
lies are easily dressed up as truths, &these are the standards for ourselves we then uphold.

fuck the story writers.

moving on would be easier if it really were my past let go. moving on would be easier if it really were my mistakes made, lesson learned. but how am I suppose to move on when this narrative isn’t my own? shouldn’t they be the ones to do the work, to move on, when it was their false truth they created of me?

you can do everything right, say everything right &they will still hate. they will always find a way to tear you down. they will make up a fake false story about your life.

they talk shit about the bad guys. &make up shit about the good ones. you cannot, will not, win in this world. fuck the story writers.

Aku ingin mati tanpa rasa sakit, ya Allah. Batinku.

Lalu dijawab Allah, “Bagaimana mungkin kau meminta mati tanpa rasa sakit, sedang kekasih-Ku dahulu Ku panggil dengan rasa sakit”.