“I’m fine,”
while clenching my fists,
clenching my teeth.

What if I say I’m not fine?
What if I hurt their feelings?
What if I am seen as selfish?

“I’m fine,”
while clenching my fists,
clenching my teeth.

Well I have to be okay.
Just clench and deal with it.
It’s not important.

“I’m fine,”
while clenching my fists,
clenching my teeth.

I want to whine.
I want to breakdown.
I want to cry.

“I’m fine,”
while clenching my fists,
clenching my teeth.

Stop it, you’re being selfish now.
Just go to sleep.
It will be okay tomorrow.

“I guess I will be fine,”
slowly exhaling deeply,
releasing my tension.

I just wanted to hear that it’s okay for me to breakdown for a mere 5 seconds. And a hug.



Hey there, little girl.
You may think you’re not doing well,
and the world is going against you.
Keep holding on,
you will get there.
It won’t be an easy path,
you will have your heart ripped out,
stepped on,
broken into pieces,
to the point you feel numb.
You will learn to fight,
to forgive,
and to let go.
They can forcibly take your flower crown,
but don’t let them take your innocence.



Nothing says love more than
simply being there
for someone who is crying their insecurities out on the floor
at 3 A.M.
bearing their pain
that is silence broken by the sound of their tears
knowing that this won’t be their last breakdown
and you choose to stay.
attraction brings you in,
but love makes you stay



Perfection, flawless, impeccable.
Unrealistic and unattainable.

Mistakes and flaws.
Gripping my heart like claws.

Until when will I punish myself?

This perfection obsession,
hazed my reflection.

Is the mirror dirty or is my brain cloudy?

The more I avoid making mistakes,
the more I make mistakes.

What do I do after the mistakes are made?

Acknowledge and learn.
I’m perfection in my imperfection.



We are blessed with words.
To express, to communicate.
Much stronger than swords.
To retaliate, to reciprocate.

An extension of our thoughts.
An expression of our feelings.

Words bring people closer,
words bring people apart.
Words to lure people in,
words to push people out.

So why are words mightier than swords?
Because it’s the abstract product of thoughts.

Thoughts, thoughts, thoughts, race in our minds.
Words, words, words, jump out from our thoughts.

Then silence.
Cue brain process.


Words are perceived.
Perceptions are processed in thoughts.
Thoughts are delivered in words.

The Möbius strip.

Words are free to be written,
words are free to be interpreted.
But words will never ever represent a human being.

Humans are more than descriptive words.
Angry words, venomous words, sad words,
happy words, gleeful words, love words.

And words are my only weapon.
To use well to spread love and kindness.
Or to use poorly to spread venomous hate.

So these are my words.
To celebrate my 100th post.


Mirror Cracks

In between the cracks of the mirror I look at myself,
the shattered pieces make me look incomplete.
I touch it, carefully not to hurt myself,
but obviously, this broken mirror is obsolete.

What’s the use of looking at a broken mirror?
The broken reflection is not me.

“Stop touching it, the shattered pieces will hurt you.”

I hit the mirror with my fists.
The pieces fall, shattering and crumbling onto the floor.
They glint beautifully like sparkles.
And now what’s left is an open door.

My hands are bleeding from the shards,
but now I can replace it with a new mirror.

So I can stop seeing myself on a broken mirror,
and start seeing who I really am.

Let the broken mirror be replaced with a shiny new one,
so in the reflection I will be the only one.

and in the reflection I can see myself that I know.

Mirror Cracks

My Hairevolution

Since I have nothing much to do today (and I actually woke up at 2.30 pm…awesome!) I just want to share a story about my hair. Yes, my hairevolution.

So as you can obviously see, I have red hair. It’s actually short at the moment, in some of photos I was wearing my extensions. Obviously, this is not my natural hair colour, sorry to break it down for you. I wish it was. I’ve only had red hair since mid 2011 when I just moved to Brisbane, but it feels like I’ve had it forever.

Like any normal Indonesians, or even Asians in general, I had black hair. A hair colour that I felt just was not for me somehow. I couldn’t dye my hair at all, because all Indonesians have black hair, if you dye it brown, the teachers in school would notice immediately and suspend you for colouring your hair. Especially since I went to a Catholic, all-girl school for 6 years from middle school to high school. It was a very strict school, but I had my best memories from those years.

Anyways, everyone knew me as “the girl with the extremely long hair” because my hair reached up my thighs. I had never cut it short because I felt safe with it. I love it when people come to me and say “you have such beautiful long hair, how do you take care of it?”. The most extreme thing that I did was cutting my fringe (or bangs) when I was 16, and straighten my hair because my hair is naturally wavy. 

It reached up to a point where my hair has not been cut for 18 years. It actually looked like this:




These were old photos, by the way. They were taken in 2009 for my yearbook, and as you can see on the first picture I was basically sitting on my hair. It was quite a hassle, I would tie up my hair in a bun almost every time. All of my friends would easily recognise me from the hair, it was pretty fun actually.

One day in around October or November 2010, I woke up and thought, “hey, let’s chop off this hair!!” and called my favourite hairdresser who had known me since I was 8 years old. I told her to come to my house because I want to get a haircut, but she thought it would be my usual hair trim, she didn’t see it coming. When she got to my house, I told her that I want to cut it real short. I swear to God she almost cried. She kept asking me if I was serious about it, or if I want to cut it to waist-length only, but I insisted that I want it cut short. 

It took her a while to let the situation sink in, probably around half an hour. When she finally collected herself, she braced herself and cut my hair. This is the last photo of my long hair (may you rest in peace, lol)



…and she chopped it off! The end result kind of looked like this after a while:



and that was the time when I was experiencing with hair colours. As soon as I chopped off my hair, I just dyed it different colours, this was one of my successful ones, I actually had my hair orange for a while…sad I don’t have the decent photos to show how orange it was in real life. Anyways, I discovered my obsession with red hair, and my journey began…

I tried some failed red dyes that made my hair look dark red instead of the bright red I was looking for…



I switched brands and voila! It got to the red that I have right now, without any bleach 🙂 I love my red hair and I’m not going back to black for a while, probably in a few years. If anyone is interested in knowing the name of the brand, just contact me or comment below.

My hair is still short, but I kind of want to grow it out a little, maybe. I don’t know, we’ll see. Thanks for reading this massive post, by the way. It’s not important, nor it will change anyone’s lives, I just want to share my story. 




My Hairevolution