It’s fascinating for me to see so many people in this world that are very different.
Actually, this is my random thoughts after I saw an Instagram post from the people I knew and follow on Instagram. I don’t know, I don’t want to call her a stranger because she is no stranger even I don’t know her personally. to call her stranger is so weird since I read all her caption she shared that seemed personal for her. a stranger is not the right word.
She lives in Brisbane, Australia and loves flowers, she sings and writes a song. She has two or three cats I think? one of them is a one-eyed cat and it is so cute. she has a boyfriend who lives with her I think. And she has a lovely house. she lives near nature, her boyfriend took her to the beach, someday they swam together near the waterfall and kissed, she plays slow music by the vinyl, she plays guitar, she works as a florist, she loves to wear a ribbon on her head, and everything looks like a dream.
Her life is very near with the life I want to live in, the life I envy about.
But with all of the dreamy life, she shared her struggle about her mental health. How she struggled from so many emotions and chronic illness.
Yeah, life is not always dreamy and beautiful.
She told about how bad she could get hurt, how she could isolate herself from the outside world and people, how she was in pain because of her illness.
But, in the end, she always told and remind herself that she is a warrior and brave. she has been trying so hard to understand the strange world one step at a time.
Ah, it came into my mind,
“There are so many people with so many troubles in their life. they are surviving.”
And also it came to my mind,
“Lucky for me I have faith from I was born. why should I give up for living? im not alone. you are too weak to give up. and you are not weak.”
Yes. I'm writing this while I'm in the middle of sadness, doubt of myself, so many family’s issues I can't fix because I am just too far away from home and losing motivation all of sudden. I feel like I'm a loser and a useless one. I cried a lot today.
But a tiny bit of good side of me said to me,
“Please move. move yourself from the bed. you can fix this.”
So I moved, took a long time for me just to take a towel and finally took a bath in the middle of the night (i remember I haven’t taken a shower for more than 24 hours)
Maybe I'm not fully recovered from all negative thoughts in my mind, my room still a mess and I have dishes I need to wash.
But at least, I feel a little better. And I'm happy I can feel the warmth of hope lingering and flickering small in my chest.
And I think, to think about that we can survive and not giving up, even it’s only the smallest thing like wake up and get up from the bed while your heart heavy from everything, we need to be proud of ourselves.
And now maybe, I'm proud of myself.
Good night.
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