I like to write thought from my mind, a lot of things. But the problem is, I post it, delete it, post it, delete it, and so on. Repeated by -I don’t know- perhaps couple of times. I need catharsis, by creating things by writing, drawing, or else or any activity that require my brain to work by well, creating. The reason of my problem is, I hate my creation. Yes. I hate what I made.

I don’t know why, the thing that I always hate my creation, the thing that I can’t even appreciate myself is normal for me. Lately I just realized that I am the product of pragmatic system. Or maybe because I’ve been raised by a couple of nice dictator parents. Like living in a democratic country with a authoritarian monarchy, you can have your thought but all just ended up as thought. You have to do exactly like what they’re told you, or society claimed it’s good for you.

I’ve never being appreciated by my parents, for what I’ve done. I never struggle to get what I want, good grade, all facilities, pocket money always full, and that’s just normal for me. But, I ca’t do art, I can’t play until maghrib, I can’t join a taekwondo team, or else. I just able to stay at home helping them, or more of the time, spending my day at my room reading books or making embroidery or studying (I know it’s boring) while listening to the radio.

In my spare time, I love to draw. Draw people. The time when I showed my drawings to my closest family, mostly they responded with, “drawing is a sin job”, “why you draw people, you’ll go to hell for that”. I just feel numb for that. I didn’t resist, I just nod and not draw things anymore. I don’t know that actually deep down inside my heart I disagree, I’m sad for not being appreciated.

Now I know why I always hate my creation. And it’s hard to embrace myself, it takes time. For now, what I need to do is not deleting my post.

I need a catharsis. I need to emancipate myself. I want to do things.

And, I just make a deal with my husband (and of course myself) to consistenly post something on my tumblr. Anything.

I just make a deal with me

Usually I use this tumblr for sharing my mental experience, when anxiety attack, or when suicidal thought appear, or else. I just deleted some posts, for some reasons. I write my experience in English, because it just feel like I’m talking to myself, and I’m comfortable to speak in English to myself. And other writing that showed my restlessness is written in Indonesia.

Maybe, that’s all.


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