VENA

At some point, I stopped chasing it. Instead, I started building myself to achieve that dream.

Stop chasing your dreams. Build yourself and your dream will come to you.

-vena

It's not about just buying whatever that fits your budget,

Nor was it buying luxury because you don't have any idea what to give.

That's about money, not the thought.

When people say it's the thought that counts,

It's about knowing if they like the color or not,

What flowers they like,

What corny jokes or deep quotes that will touch their heart,

It can be a handwritten or printed letter,

Or even just a single sentence in a folded paper.

It can be expensive or the cheapest you'll see in a cheap store.

It's about remembering them on unnoticeable, silent, and hidden things that makes them... them.

When people say it's the thought that counts,

It means thinking about them and remembering them.

It's unpleasant.

Life felt negative more than back to zero.

Since then, I'm in a loop — a dilemma that never left me for a single day.

Do I keep up with both lives?

Can I keep up with both lives?

I met the most anxious and depressed version of my self I never knew was possible to exist — it defied all my principles.

It defied my whole way of living.

I was battling it ever since. I couldn't make peace with it.

I need help.

I don't know how to talk to them without telling them how much I missed them.

We are no longer on the same page.

And it is sad. They found new friends. While I'm keeping their place in mine.

But they deserve new friends — people they can hang out with, people who understands them, people who would know what they're talking about.

Well, just want to say, distance really makes differences.

And maybe it's fine. Or I just hope it will be fine.

He comforts me and also challenges me.

He grounds me and also elevates me.

He makes me feel safe.

He stabilizes my heartbeat when it's pounding too fast.

And he also makes my heart race with the simplest things.

He is fierce and he is also stable.

In Taylor's song, he is the type of love who— is sensible, incredible, says everything I need to hear, opens up my door and tells me I'm beautiful.

And he is also the— so in love that I act insane, the roller coaster kind of rush —part.

Well, I don't know but I will.

Family was everything to me — still is. All the responsibilities thrown upon me, I've seen them as steps to be a more responsible human being. I did all those with love and for love.

They were hard — but I was never angry. I became stronger. I was grateful even. At some point, they were the purpose of my hard work.

And no, I never demanded anything back.

But on random night of 2024 where I'd been drowning in self doubt, uncertainties, responsibilities, regrets, and unfinished dreams, I felt anger.

I questioned every single thing — every single responsibility I used to be happy and proud of, I questioned it. Why.

Why did it has to be me? Why did I have to do it all alone?

Since that night, every favor irks me. I've been ungrateful. Even distant and detached enough to not find their jokes funny — even if they were.

I felt alone — too much.

Since that night, it felt like I was only staying because of blood — no longer about love.

I've been angry. I've been blaming it on them. I wanted to get away.

And I don't want to be angry. But I'm afraid I won't have any emotions attached to them anymore if I won't be angry.

How can I live peacefully if I can't see my worth without their expectations?

I feel useless if they don't expect anything from me. But I also feel useless when I can't meet too much expectations of me.

How can I resent them when I don't know what to do without the responsibilities-disguised-as-compliments they bear upon me?

So please... take me back to the times where I'm too young to hear the underlying pressure behind every achievements and praises.

Times when hearing "good job" gave me pride and not fright.

Do I get to say I never really knew what my dream was?

What do we do if our last trigger was caused by someone's reaction from their last trigger as well?

Do we just keep quiet and understand the state they're in? But what about us?

Or what if our last trigger becomes someone else's last trigger?

Do we blame ourselves and the state we are in? But what about us?

May 2026 treat you better than ever. Hoping this year won't just be a year of learning but also a year of healing.

But love not accepted is a love to let go.

And love.... not even acknowledged, is only a feeling to regret for.

Or maybe at least sorry.

I sometimes hope instead of a lesson learned,

You were a lesson earned.

Hm... it's when you're sad but can't tell anyone or don't have anyone to talk to.

You had a good day but no one to share with.

You feel alone.

—Oh no... hmm..

Life abroad...? You are alone.

When you're craving some food but can't eat it easily like you used to. Either all stores don't have it, or you don't know how to cook it, or they don't have the ingredients for it.

When you want to reward yourself with your favorite meal or drink but you can't. Sure, the same shop was here but different menu— different taste.

When you want to visit the comfort places you grew up in but it's now two airplanes apart.

When you want to message friends but it's not only the schedule blocking you, the time zone does as well.

When you want to cry but don't have the pillow you used to always hug back home.

When you realize you don't live in the address you happily memorized when you were younger or when you forgot the phone number you used to use in everything.

When you wear clothes you never thought you'd wear, and don't wear the clothes you always used to.

When you can't express yourself in your own language.

Oh, don't start with all the cultures and holidays.

Every memory and habits become used-to-be. All the foreign things are uncomfortably becoming the new things.

Life abroad is being alone... and you don't have any choice.

Absurdity.

It seems I'm still nowhere near being done.

When you need a shoulder, a listener, or even just a shadow to rest on, I will always be here.

But I get tired. So I won't be reaching out as much.

But I will still always be here.

Always just here.

—Murderer—

I killed myself.

A lot of times. In many ways.

I killed myself in my mind too many times to count. I cry after on some times— asking for forgiveness for it. And on times, I just feel hopeless and lifeless and life just goes on.

But there's this one... that never gets easier.

Everytime I feel. Every single time I would have emotions. I have to demolish it. Every single bits of it.

It never gets easier. For what it's worth, it only gets harder. It sucks the life out of me. It strips off my soul. Each time, my eyes become more dull and my smiles keep getting smaller and forced.

I sometimes miss the times I allow myself to feel. I sometimes miss the vulnerability.

But for the youngest time, I've already learned that emotions are my weaknesses. In a sense that, I am someone who is full of emotions and can be ruled by it.

I am a fool in feelings.

And I just can't be weak and a fool for the life I'm trying to achieve. And so, everytime I feel, it clashes with the reality I'm trying to build.

But I've long given up on feelings. So I kill it. Every...single...time— doesn't mean it doesn't hurt anymore. It kills me, two folds.