I don’t know why I’m feeling blue these days.

Dark blue.

I’ve been telling myself to shrug off the feeling and become a little bit happier. But those fleeting moment of happiness feels like a lie. It gets heavier to smile because deep down I realize that I’m just faking it. Right now I’m just an empty shell blown away by the wind.

I cowardly running away from my triggers of stress. Trying to shut them down—but they’ll creep and become my nightmares. I really don’t know what to do to keep myself sane.

Still, I can pretentiously tell people that I’m fine.

But sometimes... I do afraid that later they’ll find me in my room, killed by dark blue.

I woke up to messages that told me to watch my behavior.

Because the world is getting crueler and we’re going to die.

The judgment day is coming soon, it said. I have to pray and remember the sabbath—to keep it holy. Because if I don’t behave, one day, the universe will punish me.

What a way to start my Friday. I sighed as I got ready to work.

When you live surrounded by people who believe that one faith is absolute, it is most difficult to walk on a different path. Especially when it comes to religion. My friend suggested that I should be honest and firmly tell them the truth. But I know I can’t be reckless. There are too many risks that can happen if I tell them so. Call me a coward but I don’t want to make people around me suffer from my action.

It might be okay if they condemned me as a sinner.

It is not okay when people dear to me blame themselves for what I have become.

As I think back, I began to question my faith years ago triggered by an unfortunate series of events that happened in my life. I’ve experienced a state of denial, self-blame, hopelessness until I finally came to accept the fact that it is okay to believe what I want to believe.

You know, rather than a promise for eternal life, I would rather save people with all I have.

But first, I believe I have to save myself first—this weak girl with low self-esteem in regards to the values of herself. I have to save myself by becoming a human being with kindness who always feel grateful for whatever might happen. To treat myself with respect and love, to embrace all of my bad and all of my good, to learn from the past, to be excited about the future and most importantly, to appreciate the present.

The universe might label me as a sinner but I guess it’s fine as long as I don’t burden myself and I don’t burden other people.

I don’t want to live my life with regrets.

In the end, I don’t expect people to understand. I’ll patiently listen to theirs preach. At this point, they don't need my opinion regarding it anyway.

I guess it’s fine this way… for now.

New year, another birthday, new opportunities, maybe failures, more encounters, unwanted separations, unexpected news, some happiness and more sadness. Everyone, please welcome 2018.

Here I write the obligatory resolutions.

Ready or not, 2018 is here.

Life goes on. Time flies. The clock is ticking.

I got bad news three days prior to 2018.

My only hope at the moment to feel again that sparks of excitement that used to color my youthful self. My current every day’s daydream. They are broken to pieces.

I failed. So bad, I failed miserably.

As the information sunk in I strangely didn’t feel that sad about it. I was shocked, but I didn't feel hurt and I still am now. I let out a bitter laugh, wondering why life is being cruel to me once again while at the same time wondering why I don’t feel sad when I’m clearly disappointed.

Maybe I’m so used to failure that I am indifference about yet another failure.

Normally I’ll cry for at least an hour before I’ll get myself back and move on. This time I don’t shed a single tear when I failed on probably the most life-changing experience that might happen in my life if I could succeed it. Especially when I put a lot of time, money and efforts just for this dream.

Well, it’s a weird kind of feeling, to be honest. I wonder if I have to blame my recent addiction toward stoicism hence I react this way.

My heart feels numb. Does this somehow radical acceptance usually feels like this? But I guess, as long as I don’t cry and I don’t make people feel pity for me, I’m all good.

I’ll just soak in this feeling for a while.

My past, even though it wasn’t perfect, was somehow too good to be true: in a sense of how I did stuff that I love and made me feel alive. Every night I was looking forward to tomorrow. Well, maybe I wasn’t when I had deadlines for my exams or assignments.

Nowadays, I’m living the days by telling a narrative of how I hate myself and everything’s that happening in my life. I might have money from my job, but I’m scared of a lot of things. There isn’t anything in particular that can make me feel alive at the moment.

I became a pessimist.

On a whim, I deleted and achieved most of my posts during my university days. I even made another blog just because I can’t see myself make depressing posts after previous positive writings. Now, I feel kinda stupid because I did that.

So I’m trying to accept that my past is also part of the current me. I might become gloomier compared to before, but let’s say that I’ll just gonna embrace that part of me as well.

And maybe, heal myself little by little.

But I’m glad that I write something before 2017 ends.