nocturnalmuse

Maybe I should start with how I met my husband.

Before I knew him, I was still waiting for someone I once loved. We had known each other for years. We spent a lot of time together, went out often, and acted more like a couple than just friends. But I guess we were never meant to be. What hurt me the most was how he could disappear for months without giving me any explanation. Looking back, I realised that maybe I was never his first choice just someone he kept around whenever it was convenient.

While I was trying to move on, my husband came into my life through a popular social media app.

Honestly, I had no intention of getting to know anyone. I was still healing. Sure, I chatted with a lot of people, but none of those conversations were meant to become anything serious. I just wanted friends and distractions.

One day, he replied to one of my stories and started telling me about his ex-wife.

That immediately turned me off.

I couldn't help but think, "Why do I always attract divorced men?" To make it even stranger, his ex-wife worked at my previous company just like another divorced man I had talked to before. It felt like such a weird coincidence.

For days, I ignored every invitation he made to meet me. I simply wasn't interested. Dating a divorced man was never part of my plan.

Eventually, we started talking on the phone.

One night, he confessed that he liked me.

I was completely stunned. I didn't know how to respond.

I asked him to give me a few days to think about it, but he kept pushing for an answer. I won't lie—it made me feel uncomfortable.

Eventually, we agreed to meet. It happened on a Tuesday afternoon, the same day I had taken leave from work to prepare for a short family vacation.

The day before our meeting, he told me he had to go to court regarding custody of his daughter. What he never told me was that his divorce had been rushed through the legal process. I only discovered that much later while filling out our marriage registration documents.

Can you imagine how I felt?

I was devastated.

When I met him, he looked exhausted. He seemed emotionally drained, like someone carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders.

That night, I accepted him.

Partly because I felt sorry for him.

But also because he was the first man who had ever confessed his feelings to me and genuinely asked me to be his partner. Throughout my life, I had always been the one making the first move. No one had ever chosen me first.

As time passed, our relationship was good. We spent more time together and slowly built a life.

Then reality caught up with us.

There were lies.

There were things both of us chose not to be honest about.

There were people from our past whom we couldn't completely cut off.

Those unresolved issues slowly hurt both of us, and even today, some of those wounds haven't fully healed.

Despite everything, he decided he wanted to marry me. He met my father, asked for my hand, and eventually proposed. I said yes.

Earlier this year, we got married.

Before our wedding, he warned me that people from his past might try to interfere with our marriage.

Unfortunately, he was right.

Even before we got engaged, his ex-wife posted about me on Threads, calling me "his ATM." When I responded professionally, she became even more emotional and accused me of things that simply weren't true. I only defended myself because she attacked me first.

Yet somehow, I ended up becoming the bad person.

She even told my husband, "Make sure your wife doesn't throw shade at me."

I remember thinking, Who started this in the first place?

What hurt me even more was that my husband seemed to agree with everything she said about me.

That disappointment stayed with me.

Eventually, I became tired of the drama and stopped caring.

Sadly, it also affected my relationship with his daughter.

He assume I dislike her, but that's not true.

Every time she stays with us, I'm the one who cooks for her, bathes her, pampers her, cleans her up, and takes care of her. I do everything a parent would do, even though she isn't my biological child.

So when my husband tells me, "You don't like my daughter," it hurts more than he realises.

How could he say that after everything I've done?

I stopped arguing about it because I was exhausted. Instead, I kept everything to myself.

One thing I will always be grateful for is his family.

They have always treated me with kindness, and I genuinely appreciate them.

Sometimes I do feel hurt when they naturally take his side, but I understand that he's their son. What they don't know is everything I've gone through because of him.

His ex-wife spread lies about me.

Women from his past have even contacted me, telling me to divorce him.

Meanwhile, before I got married, the people from my own past respected my marriage and never disturbed us again.

The difference hurts.

Do I love my husband?

Yes.

I truly do.

But sometimes, his behaviour makes me question the choices I've made.

Financially, I carry more responsibility than I should.

Most of the household expenses come from me.

This month, I stayed quiet on purpose because I wanted to see whether he would notice that the house needed groceries or daily necessities.

He didn't.

As the husband, I believe you're meant to lead the family—not leave everything for your wife to manage alone.

Providing food for the household shouldn't even be a question. It's a basic responsibility. There are many other responsibilities too, but whenever I bring them up, his answer is always the same.

"I'm sorry. I don't know."

"I'm sorry. I'm just a kampung boy."

Well, so am I.

Being raised in a village doesn't stop someone from learning, growing, or understanding responsibility.

If I were in his position, I wouldn't have handled things this way.

If I knew I wasn't financially or emotionally ready, maybe I wouldn't have gotten married yet. Maybe I would have focused on fulfilling my responsibilities as a father first.

Another issue is moving back to his hometown.

Honestly, I'm adaptable. You can take me anywhere, and I'll find a way to survive.

The only thing stopping him is that he doesn't want to be far away from his daughter.

I understand that completely.

But these are conversations he should have properly with his ex-wife. If they need to arrange visitation differently, then discuss it like adults. If seeing his daughter means travelling to Kuala Lumpur once a month, then perhaps that's what needs to happen.

Instead, it feels like everything still revolves around his ex-wife.

What confuses me the most is that he tells her almost everything.

Every decision.

Every plan.

Every problem.

To me, that crosses a boundary.

Sharing too much gives someone the power to look down on you or use your struggles against you.

When I once read his emails with Farina, I realised something.

My husband doesn't know how to establish healthy boundaries.

He struggles to make decisions for himself and often lets other people influence him.

Sometimes he says that I'm the one who doesn't think far enough ahead.

But from my perspective, he struggles to see the bigger picture himself.

I don't ask for perfection.

I just hope he changes.

I hope he learns how to face problems instead of avoiding them.

I hope he becomes more responsible financially.

I hope he grows into the leader our family needs.

Because despite everything we've been through…

I still love him.

I still want to spend the rest of my life with him.

I still want us to grow old together, holding each other's hands as our hair turns grey.

So last night, I finally had the chance to have a proper conversation (VC) with Sofea’s mom, Pikah. Honestly, we talked quite a lot...and surprisingly, it went better than I expected. She wasn’t her usual “kerek” self… instead, she came across quite easygoing and open.

We covered a lot starting from what happened during her stay at DSV, her ongoing treatment, and of course Sofea. We talked about Sofea’s upcoming kindergarten, her behaviour, and even shared thoughts on handling kids at her age. The conversation also drifted into our personal lives I shared about looking for a new workplace since mine is quite far now, and she mentioned her upcoming product launch and business plans.

I’ll be honest, there were things I genuinely admired. The way she carries herself, her drive, and how clear she is about what she wants especially when it comes to her child. She made it very clear that she doesn’t want Sofea to go through the same struggles she did, and she’s willing to work harder and smarter to provide more. That kind of mindset? Respect. You can tell she has a strong business mentality, and I truly believe she has the potential to grow into a powerful lady boss. If it comes to business, I can see her being a good mentor or even someone to collaborate with.

Of course, not everything was perfect this is just my honest take. From what I observed, she tends to focus a lot on herself. Most of the conversation revolved around her experiences and perspective, which I tried to see from a positive angle at least she acknowledged her own efforts. But I do feel like there’s a bit of a lack in empathy and awareness towards others in certain moments. And when it comes to motherhood, naturally she takes pride in what she does,vwhich is fair. I do similar things for Sofea too, but for me, I try to balance it with boundaries and budgeting.

Overall, the conversation was… okay, in a good way. I appreciate her clarity, her goals, and the effort she’s putting into her life now. I can see where she’s coming from, same goes for Sam. Both of them share similar approaches when it comes to Sofea, especially emotionally. Meanwhile, I realised Devin and I are quite aligned in terms of discipline, we believe you can’t always give in, boundaries are important.

At the end of the day, I still respect her as Sofea’s mother, always. But I don’t think we’ll be close friends and that’s okay. I can sense she has her own standards and circle, and maybe we’re just meant to stay on a mutual, respectful level.

But overall, I’m glad we had that conversation. It gave me a lot of insight and understanding.

There’s a particular kind of ache that settles in the bones before it reaches the heart — a slow, creeping sort of sorrow that makes everything feel colder than it should. That’s what I’ve been living in lately. A chill that doesn’t quite leave, no matter how many times I tell myself everything will be fine.

He said he’ll never be the same again.

Those words didn’t come with anger or fire... just a quiet finality, the sort that feels worse.

Almost casual, almost resigned.

And somehow that hurt more than shouting ever could.

I kept silent.

Not because I had nothing to say, but because my voice simply wouldn’t come out.

It’s strange how guilt can pull the words straight from your throat, as if speaking would only expose how deeply you’ve already cracked something important.

I keep wondering if this is who I am — if I’m built in a way that bruises the people I love.

If my flaws are more permanent than I’d like to admit.

He said if he changes, he won’t care about me anymore.

As if caring for me is a version of himself he wants to shed.

And that stung in a way that made my chest feel hollow.

He’s hurt me too, but who am I to say anything?

I’ve already been painted as the one who damages without meaning to.

So I swallow it all down, let the bitterness settle somewhere deep, and pretend it doesn’t burn.

There are moments where I want to run — disappear, vanish, slip into the background like I was never here at all.

But I can’t.

Because running would tear us both open in ways we might not survive.

So instead I stay.

Trapped between wanting him back and knowing the version of him I miss might already be gone.

It’s a strange grief.

Mourning someone who’s still here.

Loving someone who’s convinced he has to become colder just to exist beside me.

I’m hurt too.

But I keep it quiet.

British enough to carry my suffering with a straight face, polite enough not to make a scene out of my own heartbreak.

It’s pathetic, in a way — this desperate loyalty to someone who’s slipping through my fingers while telling me he won’t be the same again.

I don’t know what will become of us.

Perhaps we’re already unravelled and just pretending not to see the threads pulling loose.

Perhaps this is the part where we both silently bleed and call it growth.

Or maybe this is simply what love looks like when it’s dying slowly — not with fury, but with exhaustion.

All I know is that it hurts.

It hurts deeply, darkly, quietly.

I thought I knew him. I thought I understood love. But as time went on, it became painfully clear that his insecurities were shaping every corner of our relationship.

He couldn’t trust. Every deleted message, every harmless chat, became proof of betrayal in his eyes. Even when I acted carefully, even when I explained, even when I tried to prevent drama, nothing was enough. His fear of comparison consumed him—my past, my old connections, were always held up against him. Nothing I said could escape scrutiny, nothing I did could escape judgement.

He was hypersensitive. The smallest things became storms, the tiniest mistakes became evidence against me. And yet, he rarely looked inward. Responsibility was never his; blame was always mine. Arguments twisted, facts distorted, intentions questioned. It was exhausting, draining, and relentless.

His past haunted him, still raw from a recent divorce and choices made before we met. That history was never his burden alone—it spilled into our relationship, weaponised to control, to guilt, to manipulate. Even money, a practical matter, became another arena where fear and anxiety dictated his reactions.

And yet, despite all of this, he demanded love, devotion, patience, and understanding. He demanded that I navigate his moods, protect his ego, and forgive his lapses, while my feelings were secondary, ignored, or twisted into evidence of wrongdoing.

I love him, but I cannot fix what is not mine to fix. Insecurity, unchecked, grows into control, manipulation, and emotional burden. I can be patient, I can be kind, I can try—but the lesson here is clear: love is not meant to feel like walking on eggshells, and no one should be held hostage to another’s unresolved fears.

I met him on TikTok, of all places. We started chatting casually, exchanging thoughts and jokes, and gradually, our conversations deepened. During our chats, he even shared details about his ex-wife. She worked at the same place I used to, and honestly, I wasn’t particularly fond of her—I mean, she was married, and at that time, I didn’t want to think about it. Yet, somewhere along the line, I found myself drawn to him, and somehow, he convinced me to fall for him. I still can’t quite figure out how it happened, but it did.

Our relationship seemed thrilling at first, full of excitement and little stolen moments that made me feel special. But it quickly became complicated. He discovered that I had an “affair” with Rashid—not physically, just through text. Then he found out that I was still talking to Dean, my ex-fiancé, and later, that I had asked him for financial advice. Even when I deleted messages to prevent unnecessary drama, he would somehow notice screenshots I hadn’t fully erased. He was devastated, and honestly, I understood why at first—but the way he reacted wasn’t proportional.

I wasn’t lying. I wasn’t trying to deceive him. I deleted those messages because I didn’t want conflict, because I knew these small interactions could ignite unnecessary arguments. But for him, it never seemed to matter. Every minor detail became evidence against me, and I was constantly forced into the role of the “villain” in our story.

Then came the revelation about his own past. I discovered that he had divorced only a week before we started dating. He insisted it had been a long time in the making, yet he openly admitted to sleeping with other women before meeting me. Suddenly, I was left questioning myself—was I even worthy of love? I tried to remain fair and understanding, but he constantly compared me to the past, twisted my words, and made everything about his feelings. The past was weaponised against me at every turn, and no matter how I tried, nothing seemed enough.

This is exhausting. I’ve never experienced a relationship like this. On good days, he appears perfect, loving, attentive—the ideal partner. But the slightest shift in mood, and it becomes a storm. He cannot reflect on why things go wrong, he refuses to take responsibility, and every argument is transformed into proof of my supposed failings. He gaslights, manipulates, and turns my intentions into betrayals. Simple acts like deleting messages to avoid conflict are interpreted as deceit. My boundaries are ignored, my attempts to maintain peace disregarded.

I love him—I genuinely do. But I hate that I can’t simply exist without scrutiny, without the constant fear that the next misstep will ignite accusations. I hate that my efforts to protect our relationship are twisted into proof of wrongdoing. I hate that, no matter what I do, he finds a way to blame me. Love should not feel like walking on eggshells. Love should not feel like defending your every action, as if being human is inherently wrong.

Maybe that’s why I wanted to be so honest with him. When my former fiancé asked me out to dinner, I thought telling Arif was the right thing to do. I believed honesty would make him trust me more. Instead, it broke something inside him. To me, it was just a meal, a small attempt at transparency. To him, it was betrayal. He called it cheating.

I tried to explain, but my words felt shallow compared to the weight of his hurt. He said he forgave me, but I could sense that forgiveness was fragile, like a glass already cracked.

Not long after, another fracture appeared. An old acquaintance, Danial, stirred up trouble online. Arif found out from someone else, not from me, and that made the wound deeper. He asked why I couldn’t cut ties with people who meant nothing to me but caused so much pain for him. I didn’t have a good answer. Then there was Rashid, someone I should have blocked long ago. I hadn’t, and that choice came back to haunt me.

Each time, I admitted my fault. Each time, I promised I would do better. But my promises began to sound empty, even to my own ears.

The breaking point came when Arif discovered my deleted messages with Danial. I panicked in front of him and erased them right there, as though hiding them could undo the truth. Instead, it only made me look more guilty. His eyes, usually soft with care, were sharp with disappointment.

“Which part of this don’t you understand is wrong?” he asked me. His words hit harder than shouting ever could.

I had no answer. Because deep down, I knew he was right.

That night, guilt drowned me. I tried to quiet it with soju, but the alcohol loosened my tongue, and all the confessions I had kept locked inside came spilling out. I told him how guilty I felt, how ashamed I was, how much I regretted every step that brought us here. I told him that despite everything, I wanted him — only him — and I hated myself for every reason I had given him to doubt that.

Arif had given me kindness. He had been patient. He had tried to trust me. And yet, my actions never reflected the gratitude I felt in my heart. I wanted to devote myself to him, but the shadow of my mistakes kept following me, poisoning his faith in me.

Now, I sit with the silence. I don’t know if he’ll stay. I don’t know if he’ll walk away. All I know is that my love is real, even if my choices betrayed it.

If he gives me another chance, I want to prove with actions, not words, that I can be the person he believes in. If he doesn’t, then I’ll carry this as a lesson carved into me — that trust, once broken, is the hardest thing to rebuild, and love is not just about feeling, but about protecting the heart you hold.

Hi everyone. I just wanna share something real and maybe serve this as a little warning. Please, for your own peace, don't date musicians from the underground scene. Why? Because most of them are absolute trash.

I know some of you might say, “Alaaa baru sorang kau kenal, dah kecoh.” Babe… it’s not just one. I’ve known many. And out of all of them, maybe only 5% are genuinely kind and decent the rest? Ego-driven, emotionally unavailable man-babies who think they’re the next Kurt Cobain.

Here’s my rundown and yeah, all three just so happen to be drummers. (Like, wtf is my luck?)

The first one? We were seeing each other for almost three months. Everything felt like it was moving into a serious phase until I found out he’s actually someone’s husband. Yep. Married. While entertaining me like he’s single and ready to commit. You know how crushed I was? I tried so hard to carry myself with dignity, to avoid being “the other woman,” but in the end I was, unknowingly because of him. I cut him off and disappeared from his life completely.

The second guy? He was soft, kind… but honestly, not the brightest. There was something lacking mentally and emotionally. I knew his attention was shallow. But stupid me still got attached, hoping maybe something genuine would grow. It didn’t. I had to let that one go too.

And the last one? Oh, this one really cracked me. At first, he came across sincere confessed he liked me, said he wanted to know me more. We met, vibes were good. It felt promising. Then slowly, the mask slipped. He started love bombing me showering with compliments, sweet messages, acting like I was something special. But then he told me he wanted our “thing” to be secret. Like, hello? Suddenly I’m supposed to play his invisible girlfriend normal and distant during gigs, but exclusive and "his" in private? Nah. That was the moment I snapped. I saw it for what it was manipulation, ego, and cowardice. I walked away.

Now I'm sitting here wondering… why do these people keep finding me? Is it because I like fame? No. Maybe I like attention yeah, I’ll admit that. But this? This is not the kind of attention I signed up for.

And honestly, it just makes me feel sick not just at them, but at our whole so-called “scene.” The hypocrisy, the pretentiousness, the fake deepness, the god-complex attitudes.

I loved this scene once. I believed in the music, the art, the people. But these experiences? They’ve tainted everything. And now all I see are egos with instruments, not real hearts with passion.

So I just watched Palang, the new music video by Pelteras, a goth/post-rock band from Jakarta and wow. WOW. This is one of those MVs where you just sit there after it ends like, “Okay... I felt that.”

The whole thing is in black and white (yes, my fave visual language), and it works perfectly. It’s gritty, poetic, and full of that heavy emptiness you only get from good post-rock. There’s no flashy drama; just raw, slow-burning emotions. It's like watching pain and beauty hold hands.

And let’s talk sound. That thick, melancholic energy? It creeps in and wraps around your chest. Their music feels like shouting into the void, but in a way that’s oddly comforting. Like hey, the world sucks sometimes, but here’s a soundtrack for it.

Honestly, Palang gave me the same kind of chills I get when I listen to Mono or Touché Amoré but soaked in that Southeast Asian grunge spirit. So good. So haunting. So necessary.

Go watch it if you need something to scream-cry to while looking cool in a leather jacket.

Oh, he’s following other girls now the kind that match his desires, like I once did. One by one, he double-taps their photos, the same way he used to flood mine with likes. I bet he’s watching every single one of your stories, without fail. Just like before. He used to be the first viewer on mine. Always there. Always watching.

He probably replies to your stories too, right? Drops compliments, sweet words, little bursts of attention that feel like love bombs. I know. I’ve read them before. I used to be the one receiving those his late-night thoughts, random “you’re beautiful”s, the carefully crafted messages that made me feel like I mattered.

And then it happens you fall for it. You let yourself believe it’s real. You both share the same kind of fantasies, the same dreams, the same vibe. You think it’s fate. You give him your heart. Your soul. Your trust. Because he feels different, right? Real. Kind. Consistent. He listens, he mirrors you, he matches your energy.

But I’ve been there. God, I’ve been there.

I know how magical it feels. How easy it is to believe he’s the one. That you’re safe in this. That you’ve finally been chosen for something lasting.

Until, one day… he just stops.

No warning. No explanation. The likes stop. The replies disappear. The stories go unwatched. Your heart confused. Your mind spiraling. You check your phone and it’s just silence. Cold, cruel silence. Like none of it ever happened. Like you never happened.

And that’s when your butterflies die. Every last one. Just… gone.

And a piece of you dies too.

From the first track, Pelteras’ moody bass lines, echoing guitars, and ethereal synths grabbed me. Totally my vibe. What hit me harder was the main vocalist at first, I thought it was a man, given the deep, haunting tone. But nope, it’s Techa, and her voice blends that goth whisper with raw emotion in all the right places. Love it.

My ultimate obsession? Pancang and Palang. Those lyrics they’re poetic but punchy and Tacha delivers them with such quiet strength, like a soft storm brewing within. I’ve sung those songs on repeat while walking Oyen’s favourite park route (RIP little guy). And I just can’t get enough.

Next thing I know, I’m deep in their catalog: live performances, bootlegs, interviews… Pelteras on loop 24/7. Their energy in live videos? Insane. You can feel the weight of emotion in the room. Makes me dream: one day I’ll see them live here in Kuala Lumpur or maybe I’ll book a flight to Jakarta and chase that post-punk thrill.

It’s more than just the sound I love their aesthetic too. Dark, cohesive artwork and visuals that match their moody, gothic soul. They’re building an entire world, and I’m all in.

⭐ Final Thoughts

Who knew heartbreak could lead me to my new favourite band? Pelteras is exactly the kind of atmospheric, gothic post-punk I’ve been craving intense yet intimate, haunting but beautiful. I’m officially hooked and can’t wait to see where they go next. Catch me streaming Peranjakan on repeat!

I can no longer tell what lurks there

the devil I know was sickeningly familiar

its absence is sickeningly not

there’s a hollow where it used to claw up my insides

it was not good for me, but what am I without it?

Patriots has always been a band known for their bold, energetic sound but with Blue Robins, we’re witnessing a noticeable shift. The album leans toward a softer, more mellow tone compared to their previous releases. And honestly? I kinda like it. There’s a calmness in this new sound that feels reflective, like the band is exploring a more vulnerable side of themselves.

It’s important to note that this is Patriots’ first time fully writing, producing, and arranging an entire album on their own and you can definitely hear that in the music. Not every track hits hard. A few songs feel a bit like “boleh lah,” not bad, but not necessarily memorable either. That being said, there’s something admirable in the effort and intention behind each track. You can tell they’re figuring things out, and that’s part of what makes this album feel genuine.

One of the strongest elements of Blue Robins is the introduction of their new vocalist. Her voice complements the mood of this album beautifully it’s gentle but carries emotion well. Don’t get me wrong, Ca-ah was a great vocalist too. Her voice especially suited songs like Parasite, and it’s honestly a shame she didn’t stay with the band longer. But this new voice feels like a natural fit for where Patriots seems to be heading.

Now, let’s talk about the album cover. To be honest, it’s quite minimalist and feels a bit underwhelming. It’s not bad per se, just a little… boring. But perhaps that’s intentional maybe it’s meant to match the quiet, introspective tone of the songs, or maybe even the mysterious title itself.

Speaking of which… who is Blue Robins? And why that name? It’s an intriguing choice that leaves room for interpretation, but I wish there was a bit more context given in the lyrics or visuals. It feels like there’s a deeper story behind the title that hasn’t quite been told.

If you ask me which song stands out none are immediate favorites, but I can totally imagine replaying Vestige and Bygone during a long road trip. They have a certain steady rhythm and subtle atmosphere that makes them perfect background companions for driving through open roads and quiet thoughts.

Overall, Blue Robins feels like a transitional album. It’s not flawless, but it shows growth, sincerity, and the courage to experiment. I’m genuinely curious to see where Patriots goes from here they’ve laid down a new foundation, and it’ll be exciting to watch them build on it.

A solid and honest effort. Not perfect, but promising. Let’s see where this journey leads.

When I first heard that Transitions was dropping a new wave project titled psychic_bloom.exe, I was excited. I’ve followed them for a while and always admired their emo and melodic roots, there’s always been something raw and sincere in their past releases that really resonated with me.

This album, though? Whew. I’m having a bit of a love-hate relationship with it.

On one hand, it’s refreshing to see the band experiment and evolve. psychic_bloom.exe definitely leans into a more electronic, fengtau-infused direction especially noticeable in tracks like hilang.exe (dusk ver). That beat? Kinda hits. It’s hypnotic, and I can totally see it working in a sweaty, dim-lit gig space. But the vocals? That’s where I feel disconnected. The AI-generated vocals (or whatever effect they used) stripped away the emotional weight I usually expect from Transitions. I get the vision, but it left me cold.

What I do absolutely love is the album art. The black and red palette? Iconic. It screams metalcore dark, bold, transitional. It actually feels like the most “Transitions” part of this release. It's a visual representation that hits harder than the music itself this time, which says a lot.

Here’s the thing I have high hopes for this band. Every member is no stranger to the industry. These aren’t newcomers figuring things out; they know music. Which makes me wonder… how do they feel about this release? Is this new direction a collective passion project, or just an experiment? Are they fully behind this sound?

As a long-time listener, I personally miss the raw and emotional sound that used to define Transitions. This album feels like it’s trying to bloom into something new, but I’m not sure if the soil was right. Music evolves, people change and that’s okay. But sayangnya, I can’t help but feel a bit disappointed. It doesn’t quite hit the emotional core the way their previous work did.

So, my honest rating? You guess.

Not because it’s bad, but because I miss the heart and grit of the real Transitions. I’ll still be here for whatever they do next — just hoping the next one feels more like them again.

Lately I feel so down, because of my thesis title got rejected 4 times. Of course I'm so pissed off and want to hanging myself here. It is just a title of thesis not even start with the proposal, yet I'm extremely stressed out. I don't know what is going on. Starting this sem with my positive thoughts, then it burn. Am I not prepared for this sem or what?

I just started a new semester, but I already feel burden and starting to cry because of the pressure on me. This all negative thought haunted me again. I hate it. Oh God, please help me survive this semester!

Amin.

Sincerely,

Lately it feels like everyone around me is living their best life and i'm just merely existing. Its not a very pleasant feeling because i have this grand plan of the kind of life that i want to live but i cant live that life if i'm just that shy quiet girl at the corner of the class. 

Sometimes i really really hate myself because i cant live a normal life. Its not my choice to be like this. 

WHY ME? 

People say that everyone matters and that everyone have a purpose on this earth but i always have this thought that what does the world gain from a quiet shy person who is basically scared to do everything and just live their life? 

Don't get me wrong. If you have social anxiety like me i'm not telling you that you're worthless AT ALL !! 

I just wanna tell you that you are not alone (however cliche that sounds)

You know what motivates me to do certain things that scare me like talking to someone or something like that is a quote by Will Smith that says "The best things in life are placed after fear". This helps me to do things that i'm afraid to do because they could end up being the best things that i have ever done.

Another thing that i really believe in is The Law Of Attraction . 

Now, i wont lie to you because practicing the law of attraction i A LOT of work but having experienced and currently experiencing social anxiety i know that it is not a nice thing and i don't think anyone would want to have it forever and so i would think that you would do basically anything that would help you overcome it. 

To me using the law of attraction to get over your shyness is to ignore all bad things that come your way and truly believe in your heart that you are an outgoing person and to align your frequency with that of the kind of personality you want be being happy no matter what challenges your social anxiety brings your way and acting as if you were an outgoing person because being outgoing is part of your personality, its just buried deep inside of you and you just need to find it. 

Anywayyyy .. That crazy, happy, funny, loud, goofy person that you are with only your closest friends and by yourself, that's the real you. You just need to find a way to show that part of you to others.

But then again, i'm not saying that there is something wrong with being shy because that's how God made us but i do feel like its hindering us from experiencing the many opportunities that are out there in this beautiful world of endless opportunities. Just remember : You have one life and you and only you can decide how you want to live that one precious life that you have.

If you reached this far, thank you so so much for reading.

Lots of love