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it's may. the fifth month, the fifth time this year where we tell ourselves "it's a new month and we shall try again." it's the fifth time we hope for better weeks, easier days. i hope may could become the month of joy and peace for you. i hope it does not suffocate you.

tolong pulangkan negara ini pada rakyatnya.

Pope Francis used his last public address to call for a ceasefire in Gaza. Even as he was hospitalised, he maintained his commitment to check in on a daily basis with priests and parishioners at the Holy Family Catholic Church in Gaza City. Rest in peace.

a living proof that tenderness exists.

i wish everyone who has shared their kindness with me a very beautiful life. even if it's only for a split second, for one word, for one glance, your kindness got me here. i hope you, too, receive such kindness that reminds you why having a tomorrow is a good thing.

every day i pray with all my heart to wake up feeling light because it seems like my mood is always caught on a spinning wheel. every day is a random game. vitamins and meds can't even help.

kitchen breakdowns.

the thing about living is that sometimes it will get you on a train and the train will take you to somewhere not very far but close enough to make you remember that you are not the first person who says goodbye and grief falls asleep on everyone's tongue.

we think about dying a bit more often than we think about eating our mother's cooking because she was the first person who taught us how to live while holding a knife but perhaps we should think of leaving less often because the food is still on the table and we need to eat well.

i love you. i hope you live long enough to see yourself get happier.

i believe the rain will take care of you well. pour on you gently when no other softness can reach you, not even the sound of someone's voice calling out your name. i believe it will stop just to kiss you. incessantly. sweet. so let rain be rain, let it convince you to stay here.

"my life is out of love" and that's why i stitched the blood ribbons myself & taught them to dance to the sound of your voice. i fold paper planes & call them love, i brew tea & call it love. love for me is a pair of calloused hands, hoping what they make isn't a waste of time.

at least this world has flowers.

love and briefness.

berduka mulu berduka lagi berduka setiap hari tiga kali sehari makan duka sampai lapar lagi sampai sakit perut lagi berduka di tengah hari berduka di pinggir jalan berduka di transportasi publik berduka di kamar berduka di tengah keramaian berduka tidak pernah selesai

happy mother's day. i was born from your tears & we taught each other how to be sorry. some days i look like you, some days we do not like what we see. you always call when i'm sick even before i tell you about it. a bond that knows no distance; unbreakable fragile little thing.