Oh, Mother Nature are you weeping in tears?
Your children of the wild hint me with those suffocating eyes.
Painter picture you in enchanting hues, to let them gaze in awe.
The poet told all the beauty of your soul in cursive verse.
It’s ironic how humans romanticize you as an art, but fail to see your true masterpiece.
With a conscious mind, they create mythical creatures that perceive you as a force to fear.
Denied the symphony of life,
where your pastel and green are wiped for the monochrome of the metropolis.
But, in the bustling crowds of city life.
That man of power longing and seeks for a secret garden.
A simple rose to peacefully ease the dull and madness of life.
When it’s all too much, they’re running back, connecting to your warmth embrace.
Find their self healed by acres of familiar meadow.
But Mother Nature, who will heal you?
You used to be the land of ethereal dreams.
A beautiful soul.
Now scarred by human hands and their nonchalant view.
I feared that tomorrow all of you left is a story.
And all of your great stories are just once upon a time.
I am sorry for you are ended as a tragedy.

Damn you, I can’t get you out my mind

Are you familiar with the saying, ‘if he wanted, he would?’

I think I’m bewitched by it, even now.

I never expected him to have a sweet side. You know the kind — the fictional character who’s all rough edges until he turns soft around the one he loves?

That’s what it felt like.

“Do you want to go with me — to the Night Fair? It’s my birthday. Your sisters could come too,” he asked confidently.

I was dumbfounded. I didn’t even know it was his birthday. And yet here he was, asking me, inviting my sisters too, as if he knew my parents would never let me go otherwise.

Was it his intention? What was his intention? Shouldn’t birthdays be spent with family or friends? Friends, plural?

And what did his parents think, knowing he’d spend his special day with a “friend” and her two sisters? At the Night Fair, no less — with his chauffeur driving us there?

I should be the one who gives you a gift, not the other way around. Funny, he was the least person I expected to be in love with. It was all because of that sweet 20th birthday at the famous local Night Fair. Celebrated with no blowing candles — with everyone circling the table, singing Happy Birthday. Instead, we ran wild through flashing lights and laughter — rode rollercoasters, played laser tag, and screamed our lungs out with eyes shut in a haunted house.

I still wonder what he wished for that night. But, one thing for sure: it was a well-spent, celebrated birthday. We were the happiest that night; well, I was, all thanks to him.

But ever since that night, I’ve felt something grow. And somehow, that night became a memory I’ll carry forever. From seatbuddy to this… I don’t know how to name it.

Then he did something even more ridiculous.

He came to visit me at my grandparents’ house. He took two different transports to get there. Two. Who even does that? Who should I have introduced him as?

As a kid, I always dreamed of love — you know, the kind you see in Disney movies. A prince who shows up, no explanation, no questions. Just there, choosing you. That’s a definition of love I’ve always believed in.

But what he did? It was beyond anything I ever imagined.

With all that effort, it’s a lie if I say that I’m not thinking of him as more than a friend.

Hey you, if this ever crosses your path. Do you know what you were even doing? Cause I can’t tell if it’s your way to make me notice you more...or just your way of being kind.

All I know is, you got the girl’s heart without ever saying those three words. Or maybe…maybe I just got it all wrong.

So if this is love…
Then I hope one day, or the second you find this, you’ll say it out loud.

Is it just me? was originally published in Journal Kita on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

I’m supposed to be fighting my way into the job market, but I’ve been lying here for an hour. Staring at the ceiling like it might have answers.

College is over. No more deadlines, no more panic over what to wear to class or who I might bump into on the way. I used to beg for a break, now I wake up and feel nothing but space. And I’m stressing whether I’ll have anything to do tomorrow that makes me feel like a real person.

Months ago, I couldn’t wait to break free. Now I’d trade anything just to relive a Tuesday afternoon in the middle of class. Even the ones where I kept checking the clock, wishing time would move faster. Back when I had somewhere to be, even when I didn’t want to be there.

I used to complain about my crammed schedule. Now? I don’t even know who I am without it.

I have 24/7 for myself. Time to chase dreams, start something new, reinvent myself, whatever self-help crap people post online. But everything feels… gray.

I don’t want to sleep in because waking up late makes the day feel already wasted. But even when I’m up early, it’s not like I’m doing anything. I scroll through shows like I’m grocery shopping for joy. Nothing sticks. Everything’s bland.

Funny, isn’t it? I used to brag about all the amazing things I’d do if I had 24/7 to myself. I made it sound like I’d reinvent the world.

But now that I have the time, I don’t know…
The excitement I imagined just isn’t there. And I know in some not-so-distant future, I’ll regret all the things I didn’t do when I had the chance.

I just don’t know how to get moving. I used to think I was tired because I was too busy. Now I’m not busy at all, and somehow I feel even more exhausted.

Seriously. I’m doing nothing, and yet I wake up drained.

Each day feels like a loop: wake up, show up, zone out, repeat. I crave something bigger. But when I think about actually doing something about it, my chest tightens.

What if I’m not good enough? What if I can’t survive the pressure? What if I move, and it all falls apart?

And yet… staying still hurts just as much.

It’s stupid, isn’t it? Wanting everything and doing nothing.

Wanting was enough was originally published in Journal Kita on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

We’ve all been there, experience the feeling of waiting, losing time, and the feeling of being alive slipping away with each passing moment.

Waiting is not about patience but rather an invitation to fear, to let anxiety creep in and take its seat beside me.

Waiting feels like a punishment. Every passing minute feels wasted, as if I’m losing control of my own life. I’m left to sit with my thoughts, and that’s when the fear creeps in.

What if it doesn’t work out? What if nothing ever changes?

Time stretches, minutes feel like hours, hours like days. And I can’t escape it. There’s no button to press, no fast-forward to push me through the endless anticipation. I’m just stuck, in the space between what is and what might be.

The worst waits are the ones that matter most. I remember waiting for news that could change my life—a decision that wasn’t mine to make. The days leading up to it felt endless, filled with sleepless nights and distracted days. I became a prisoner to the uncertainty. When the wait finally ended, and the answer came, I realized that the days I had spent worrying were gone forever. I had lost not just time but the chance to live fully in those moments.

In the end, I wonder if we ever really stop waiting. If we ever truly feel present when we’re constantly anticipating what’s next. And as I sit through the wait, I can’t help but ask myself ‘Where do I wait? Is it in the present, or in the anxious space where fear and time meet, threatening to steal every moment I might have truly lived?’

Where do I Wait was originally published in Journal Kita on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

Faces that used to be so familiar now blur, as if they were never there. Without the name tags, the uniforms, and the lunch that we used to share, it’s as if we’ve all become strangers again. The laughter shared, the secrets whispered, the friendships we once promise to hold forever. Did they mean anything if I can’t remember your names now?

The name I once recalled so constantly have become random letters, lost among faces in folder marked 'friends’. What a tragedy. How is it that I can still remember all those nouns and verbs, yet here I am, struggling to recall the one word that once defined you to me?

Guess it’s my fault for not leaving anything on the back of the pictures.

God, wasn’t I the happiest when I was with you? I never smile like that in any other pictures. It wasn’t that awkward, forced smile you give when posing for photos, it was real.

Or maybe it was because we were just kids, and the world still felt kind to us. Our innocent minds believed we’d be happier as adults. But this is what happens when you grow up, people find comfort in being strangers rather than making an effort to make the relationships lasts. Time is no longer on our side. It’s never easy to meet up; there’s always something in the way.

Looking back now, I realize how much things have changed. The bonds we once thought would last forever started slipping away as life pulled us in different directions. There was a time when staying connected seemed effortless, but as the years passed, it became harder to keep up. I drifted away and in that distance, I let silence grow between us.

So, when I discovered this picture from the old box on the dark corner on the attic, I wonder if you still kept our picture.

Now, as I hold this old photo, I’m filled with regret. Life has a way of moving on, even when I am not ready to let go. The face I once knew so well become faint memories, and the names I used to say so often now sit on the tip of my tongues, just out of reach.

Maybe you’ve learned my name only to call someone else who shares it with me.

I hope in another time, we can share that moment of encounter where I get to learn your name again. Maybe we can rediscover that closeness we once had.

Do you recognize me without my name tag? was originally published in Journal Kita on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

It is not a mere lucky guess but there is a whole system behind it. Guess the Gibberish Tik Tok is one of the popular Tik Tok challenges that makes the entire world excited to participate. These challenges bring a sense of achievement, and also an unarguably excruciating feeling for those who failed to guess after continuous attempts. But how does this happen? Is there any secret or witchcraft behind this whole game?

The answer behind this had something to do with our brain and the language that we are speaking. Language is not just a word that is put together into something that has meaning or is understandable. Language is a lot more complex than you imagine, it has whole body system operation which is similar to a computer. Our brain is the core of everything, without a brain it is impossible to understand anything. In linguistics it is known as psycholinguistics.

Psycholinguistics dealing with the core of language, one of them is about language production which was stated by Levelt in 1995. This theory serves as the key concept to understanding an utterance. Majority of people are able to guess the gibberish because unconsciously they succeed in following the four steps of language production. Conceptualization, formulation, articulation, and monitoring are the processes involved in expressing meaning through language. In addition, this whole process is like finding the files. If you failed to guess then theoretically it is because you do not have or not familiar with the information. Our brain stores all the knowledge, thus we are able to understand any code given. So, that is how the gibberish games are deeply tied to people’s vocabulary storage. Therefore, when the vocabulary storage and the language production process are found a match we are able to successfully guess the nonsense message of the game.

The process starts from the conceptualization stage where the person accesses and selects the message from their vocab storage to match the idea. Next it is transferred to the formulation stage where the sounds of the message are formulated. In the articulation step, the sounds are identified to recognizable speech patterns. Finally, in the last stage the speech pattern accuracy is being checked several times. However, the monitoring process might cause pauses and self correction. Repeated correction will result in the accuracy of speech, which the moment people are correctly guessing the gibberish.

You might think that all of this is useless. But, this is a life savior in conversation with non-fluent speaker situations. Also, it is an interesting way to create exciting text conversation with your friends. So, that is how we are able to guess ‘Guess the Gibberish Tik Tok Challenges’.

No words, but eyes lock and it blatantly tells your heart’s desire

Gentle swift of autumn air, but she was sick of romantic

Supposed to be a poetic confession, yet she’s afraid to play the partner

He knows love struck him from the first encounter

Slowly grow fonder; take her out for a movie

But vision finds her more beautiful, while she awed by the screen

Your eyes always spot her, constantly admires

She is a writer, and you wonder if she described the lover based on you

Under romantic scenes, you figured she never fell for you

Cause in the back of her mind, you’re a boy from the mansion who joined the club for her little stage

Play the role too long; she doesn’t know how to act

I can’t say yes truly so I won’t say it, she said

Had dreams of a lover, but you’re platonic

Within the walls of my home, a lively circus thrives—a riot of laughter, mischief, and unfiltered joy, all orchestrated by five dynamic feline companions. Even though they are considered little creatures, their presence may make it seem as if I lived in a full house. Each of the cats I cared for had a different personality that brought life to the house. Of the five cats that I have mentioned, three are females, and the rest are males.

Belalang is the oldest of the five. She is Calico’s cat. She has a thick tail, and her body is mostly covered in white fur with some ginger and dapple-grey spots. Her eyes are not the same color. Her right eye is a yellow-amber color, whereas her left eye is a copper color with an opaque pupil. She has a fierce demeanor that masks a spirit as wild and untamed as the wind. She challenges the world around her, initiating squabbles that echo through the room, leaving chaos in their wake. She will most likely start a quarrel with others for no reason. Every time she did, it felt like a new world war was breaking out. The room will be filled with a sonorous, raucous hiss, followed by a loud bump and chomp-rapid footstep.

Boba is the second oldest and also a Calico. Her back is coated in a brownish-ochre-colored coating of coal. She also has a long-ish tail and appears to be wearing brownish-striped stockings with snow-white socks on the rear of her feet. Boba is a craven, introverted cat. I am not sure what her rationale for being such a homebody cat is. However, she was always alert to anyone’s presence, even myself. Boba only lowers her attentiveness whenever my younger sisters are around because my sisters seem to be her guardians. Even more, she always goes into stealth mode when she leaves her cave as if she is in the middle of a perilous scenario. She is the one that has largely been squabbling with Belalang. If the riot broke out, I would be the front-line person to separate them since I am the one Belalang would listen to.

Blonde comes next. He is a combination of Persian and domestic breeds. He has blondish, thick, fluffy fur and a little face. His eyes are a shimmering copper color. He has huge, fat, and adorably appealing paws, unlike the others. Blonde tends to be a super attention-seeking cat, especially around my parents. It is hilarious to see how he seeks attention. He would meow that it sounded close to a door-knock sound and was starting to climb up my leg. As I bent down and picked him up, his hand would stretch up to the sky, and he would scuttle his head on my shoulder with his fat paw warmly hugging me. Moreover, if I started to rock him back and forth, he would carelessly fall asleep. It feels as if I am in the middle of babysitting duty.

Then there is Pawpaw. He has dominant white-yellowish ginger fur with dashes and a small, coiled tail. He has husky and loud-annoying meows. Pawpaw is an utterly irritating and troublemaking cat. He is endlessly eager to engage in all of my activities, yet his presence is usually irritating since he will throw a tantrum if I am not caressing him. Although his presence is inevitably annoying, he has a gorgeous little face. He has a bold face with lovable, gleaming eyes and a sharp muzzle.

Uma is the youngest. She is a patched tabby cat. She has brownish tabby hair and fuzzy-grey blended with coal color with a long tail. She tends to be a sleepy-head cat. I sometimes catch her dozing off in the middle of playtime with others. However, it was utterly adorable when I found her asleep but she still had toys in between her teeth and her claws were tightly grasping them.

Blonde, Pawpaw, and Uma are curious-enthusiastic, youthful, and playful cats. When they start a playful fight, they always turn the house into a chaotic mess by chasing each other, followed by squeaky sounds against the slick porcelain floor and delighted meows. As it happens, furs clash with visible dust that lingers in the air.

Ever since I lived with them, my world has revolved around them. Every day, the sounds of meowing and an echo-purring buzz became the soundtrack in my ears. Moreover, the thought of their adorable bean toes and fuzzy-soft hair appears in my mind for no particular reason. Those thoughts keep rolling around in my head, ruining my concentration as if my head is overfilled with their charming allure. Their presence brings a new meaning to my life.

Our bond is like a man and his shadow. They were never going to leave me alone. They are never out of my sight from the moment I wake up until I go to sleep at night; I always find them close to me. Every morning I wake up to a loud, annoying scratching sound behind the door, followed by a repeating siren of meows. As I open the door, they greet me with their lovely angel eyes. It is almost like a peace offering; even if they are loudly annoying, I will never be angry when they hypnotize me with those angel eyes. Those raucous meows will melt away as the plastic bowl shakes and the fishy scent hangs in the air. As they chew the fish-shaped cereal, which makes a crunching sound.

After dealing with their meal, I would occasionally go for a wander around the neighborhood in between my leisure time. Belalang, Pawpaw, and Uma are the ones who always accompany me wandering around. As we walked, the harmonious chirping of birds, along with the breeze blowing the leaves beside the road, and the gaze with warm smile of our neighbor greeted us within our steps. I find it hilarious when I notice that they are running-jumpingly behind my steps and racing to catch up with my trail with their little feet. Our morning stroll was enough to brighten my spirits and empower me to continue with my college routine. Those are definitely the best ways to start the day.

Their disruption does not end there, yet it continues. As I start doing my assignment or having class in the living room, they will appear quietly at first, but the next minute they will start munching cable, ruffling the desk, furiously scratching the paperwork, and even seeing me as a squeaky toy. My head is filled with loud, annoying rumbling sounds, making it difficult to concentrate on the lecturer. Therefore, it is best to do college-related activities in a room with a tightly shut door. But sometimes I do not have the heart to ignore them. So, I would keep my door slightly open, only to be greeted with a set of lovely eyes peering over the corner. It is almost as if they are begging me to leave the tedious, excruciating stuff behind and spend time with them doing something exciting and thrilling, which made me feel fluttery inside, and it never failed to bring a beaming smile to my face.

After a long-weary day, it is heartwarming and relieving when one of them appears out of nowhere and begins cuddling, circling, and rubbing their head against my palm. I guarantee it could throw all of my weariness away. Even more, as the sounds of purring filled the room, it felt as if I were lying in a cloud, caressed by a gentle breeze. That seems like a reward since it can put me in the deepest state of relaxation. It would be one of the most appealing parts of the day. They also made the perfect meditation companions; anytime I wanted to express all of the things that had poisoned my mind, all I had to do was caress them, shower them with affection, and endlessly praise them for their adorableness. They appear to be a stress ball whenever I have had a long stressful day. Their presence always brings a bright smile and cheers at the end of the day.

It is impossible to have a peaceful day if you live alongside a cat. They always find a way to turn the house upside-down. They are truly adorable troublemakers, yet they make the best companions humans could ever find.

Little Women has been widely known by the majority of people in the last century. The story was originally written by Louisa May Alcott and published in 1868. Even though it was published many years ago, Little Women is still known by today’s people because of its timeless story. It became a timeless kind of story because the plot can still be reflected in and related to today’s society. Numerous aspects of the artwork encourage the story to be popular; thereby, Little Women has a bunch of adaptations throughout the year. Little Women has remained popular for its depiction of lively characters that encourage a new perspective and life lessons through Meg, Jo, and Amy’s character development.

Meg March’s attitude toward someone’s goal or dreams is most likely one thing that encourages a perspective about the importance of embracing and respecting others’ decisions. It shows in the scene when Meg is about to get married to John Brooke. Minutes before Meg was about to say the marriage vows, Jo March reassured Meg not to get married. Jo was concerned that Meg would not have time for the March family, particularly her sisters. This made Jo convince Meg by saying that life with John would be boring within two years and life with March would always be interesting. However, Meg gently said that ‘just because my dreams are different than yours doesn’t mean they are unimportant’. From that dialogue, the audience learns the importance of embracing other dreams. Nowadays, this has become an issue that burdens some children. Some parents often force their children to do what they think is best for their future. They seem to not embrace and respect their children’s decisions. This attitude can affect the bond between parents and their children. It leads to the bond being fragile. This scenario echoes the struggles faced by numerous children today, confronted with parental pressures that eclipse their individual aspirations. Meg’s stance becomes an encouragement, urging us to have the courage to stand up for ourselves and advocate for our dreams.

Jo March’s attitude toward her obsession with writing encourages us to not let obstacles in life make us give up on something that we are experts in. Throughout the story, Jo has encountered plenty of obstacles that make her obsession with writing seem impossible. She gets criticism that her writing is not worth reading, even though it has already been published. Some of her writings were also rejected by the publisher. It made her think that she could not write anymore because she believed no one cared to hear her stories anymore. However, she finds support through her ill sister, Beth. Beth convinced Jo that she was a writer even before anyone knew or paid her. Beth suggests Jo do it for someone else and write something as Beth’s last request. Through her sister, Jo was able to rebuild her motivation and was inspired to write a story about March’s sister, which is known as Little Women. From that, the audience learns the greatness of will and other support. Overcoming an impossibility is not enough; you have to have a strong will to keep you going—something that can spark your spirit. The audience learns from Jo March that encouragement from a loved one and a strong desire can help you achieve your goals.

Amy March’s attitude toward Laurie’s misery encourages her to learn the concept of acceptance. In the story, there is a scene when Laurie is in his post-heartbreak phase, and he is having trouble bearing the pain. Amy’s existence in Laurie’s presence slowly helps him bear his misery because Amy seems to understand him. Amy’s presence around him helped heal his miserable memory and helped him not be overshadowed by it. From that, the audience learns a lesson: clinging to the worst memories will never help anything or make you feel better. Instead, find someone who understands you and can make you feel loved. Once you find someone who does, they are able to heal your wound with only their presence around you. Through Amy March, the audience learns that when you can let go of the past and accept the change, it can lead to something better.

“Little Women” is not just a historical relic; it is a timeless guide, a mirror that reflects the tremendous capabilities of women beyond societal norms and expectations. Its core message of embracing individuality, resilience, and empathy stands as a beacon, inspiring women to carve their paths and assert their presence, transcending limitations and societal expectations. The story’s relevance endures as it perpetuates the empowerment of feminism and the celebration of women’s multifaceted strengths.

I never imagined that watching a movie could make me feel guilty. Inside Out is the one film that made me feel that way. I felt as if I were transported back in time with the character, realizing how selfish I was back then. As I delved into the character of Riley, her emotions, struggles, and the turmoil of adjusting to a new environment, I could not help but draw parallels to my own past. After seeing that movie, I realized that what I had done was hurt myself.

The echo of a shattered childhood friendship left me bewildered and scarred. I was about 9 or 10 years old. I had my finest years in primary school. Everything was great until the days leading up to my move. One of my friends suddenly shunned me and was followed by my other close friends. I am not sure what I did to cause them to suddenly avoid me. Did I accidentally hurt their feelings? Did I do something wrong? What did I do wrong? I attempted to apologize if I had wounded them accidentally. I tried my best to get things back to normal, but I sadly left without knowing what had caused them to distance themselves, and I never got the opportunity to make amends.

I decided to isolate myself after that event because I could not bear losing a friend. I used to believe that nothing could ever hurt me if I did not have a bond with someone and that if I had to go somewhere else again, I would not have to leave anything behind. At first, I enjoyed only having myself as company, but as I went further, I felt empty.

With each passing day, it only got worse, and I became engulfed in a whirlwind of rage and fear. I cannot sense or accept affection around me, as if I have become numb to it. Those whirlwind rages and fears made me blind to others’ care. They were reaching out their hands to help, but I was too stubborn to believe that someone could make me better because I was afraid that the words that came out of their mouths would take me down. But it enraged me because I became a coward and refused to take their hands, despite the reality that I needed help to go through this. I let myself be buried by my circumstances.

Until 2015, Inside Out was released. That movie was a pivotal moment for me. It captured a vivid reflection of the internal struggle I had been carrying for years. It mirrored the conflict between my own emotions—anger, disgust, fear, sadness, and joy—and their battle for dominance in my life. Watching Riley’s story, I realized the depth of my self-imposed isolation and the misguided belief that self-sufficiency was the cause of my pain. The film unearthed the buried emotions I had denied, and the realization hit hard. I saw that my insistence on keeping everyone away had only led to my own suffering. It became clear that my reluctance to accept help was more about my fear of vulnerability than any real strength. The themes of acceptance and struggles depicted in the movie resonated deeply within me, like an echo of my own turmoil. It was not just a story; it was a mirror reflecting my inner battles and unresolved conflicts. Even my current situation, which seems impossible to overcome, is momentary.

This realization was a turning point. It woke me up to acknowledge that I had been my own antagonist, letting my circumstances dictate my emotions and demeanor. I realized that no one but myself could truly lift me from the pit I had buried myself in. It was an awakening, a moment of self-recognition. The scene where Joy and Bing Bong found themselves in the memory dump struck an emotion within me. It made me see how I had been discarding my own joyful moments, letting them slip away in the whirlwind of fear and anger. It made me feel guilty and bundle up in tears. For years, I hurt myself by believing that I had made the right decision. A single event crushed me, but I did not let it go. It never crossed my mind to recall the feelings back when I was younger and happier. It haunted me until I forgot how wonderful it felt to be alive. I had buried my capacity for happiness beneath layers of pain and isolation. It was a moment of guilt and realization, stirring a rush of emotions I had bottled up for years.

In that moment I decided not to be defined by one incident, to let go of the hurt, and to embrace the full spectrum of my emotions. I promised myself then that I would no longer allow one dark chapter to overshadow my entire life’s story.

Eventually, I learned that I will encounter pain in my life and that avoiding it will only make it worse. I have to be honest about what I am feeling because emotions exist to allow me to experience and cherish moments in life. Let myself embrace my wholeness. Do not avoid uncomfortable feelings or be overtaken by them, but rather go towards them to get honest with yourself and grow. Life is richer when we allow ourselves to move through the dark as well as the light.