On the way to 24
I do not really celebrate birthdays. I guess that is not in my upbringing. The last birthday I celebrated was my 16th birthday and it was not big either. There was only a simple celebration, lunch with friends and movie treat to literally, all of my classmates. It was not fantastic.
It only made me realise how stupid it is to wait for your 'friends' to show up and that they arrived late. I ended up apologising for not being able to pay their food and movie... I know right. It is so hard to please people. What a Beta girl.
Anyway...
It was not a birthday celebration. There was no cake, no party. It went like just another day.
This always happens. The days before I have my birthday, I always cry. I do not know what I am crying for.
Last year, I cried at Starbucks in front of my best friend. I was crying about turning 23 and at that point, everything did not quite fall into my expectation. I left my job at an agency, I came back from my hometown and I thought of pursuing a master's degree because I was skeptical about where my copywriting career was gonna be.
On my 22nd birthday I cried at the back of my old office in Kuala Lumpur. I was crying because I guess I was feeling thankful for what life has brought for me. At that time, I had a guy (well, technically were not together and that bastard regarded me as a friend, but it felt nice just the way I wanted it), I had new friends, I discovered a whole new world and excitements. I was positive but I was also about to leave my second home, Malaysia. So, it was a kind of a mix of feelings.
On my 21st birthday, I was supposed to go all out but I only cut a birthday cake in the office. It tasted nice, though.
I am counting days to my 24th birthday. I cannot say this is where I want to be... like literally.
I am, right now, writing this post at the food court of a mall, waiting the traffic jam to end. It is Friday Night. My 24th birthday is supposed to be special. Coincidentally, my 24th birthday will fall at the 24th of April. But, lately I have been so overwhelmed with things... work... and poetry... these are the 2 things that actually make me feel alive and support my mediocre life that I must say, I almost forget about my birthday.
Well, not totally forget, I mean who forgets birthday? Not even the humblest person do that. I mean it does not make me reflect as much. But as I write this piece I do, and you know, as you are getting old you become marginalised instead of standing for your own belief.
It is not so bad I guess. Although it takes a while before you feel content. It is not easy for me to feel content in a busy city like Jakarta.
Before I sat down in this exact foodcourt table, I was walking from my office to the mall in the dark. I was wearing heels. I arrived sweating and one female stranger gave me a bitchy look I could not appreciate. Maybe, she could not appreciate me either. It was fair enough.
I am here because I wanted to watch friends reading poetry and I waited for the traffic jam to slow down.
And before that I spent 12 hours of working. I checked in as early as 6.30am and left at 6pm. It was rough day, my brain was fried. I kept thinking on the poetry piece I am about to read tomorrow and I have not practiced it. It almost feels I lost a soul to the poetry. But then I cannot justify that I am the only one who is in a miserable position.
My creative director who has probably double check that mine, is working really hard. So is my account manager. I mean every single one of us has a responsibility to fulfil. It is not like a poetry, where it is everything is about you. Life is not like a poetry--that's a line right there
So I feel as I get older, I feel smaller. This is not a humble brag but it is also the thing that makes me sad too.
Happy Birthday!
It only made me realise how stupid it is to wait for your 'friends' to show up and that they arrived late. I ended up apologising for not being able to pay their food and movie... I know right. It is so hard to please people. What a Beta girl.
Anyway...
It was not a birthday celebration. There was no cake, no party. It went like just another day.
This always happens. The days before I have my birthday, I always cry. I do not know what I am crying for.
Last year, I cried at Starbucks in front of my best friend. I was crying about turning 23 and at that point, everything did not quite fall into my expectation. I left my job at an agency, I came back from my hometown and I thought of pursuing a master's degree because I was skeptical about where my copywriting career was gonna be.
On my 22nd birthday I cried at the back of my old office in Kuala Lumpur. I was crying because I guess I was feeling thankful for what life has brought for me. At that time, I had a guy (well, technically were not together and that bastard regarded me as a friend, but it felt nice just the way I wanted it), I had new friends, I discovered a whole new world and excitements. I was positive but I was also about to leave my second home, Malaysia. So, it was a kind of a mix of feelings.
On my 21st birthday, I was supposed to go all out but I only cut a birthday cake in the office. It tasted nice, though.
I am counting days to my 24th birthday. I cannot say this is where I want to be... like literally.
I am, right now, writing this post at the food court of a mall, waiting the traffic jam to end. It is Friday Night. My 24th birthday is supposed to be special. Coincidentally, my 24th birthday will fall at the 24th of April. But, lately I have been so overwhelmed with things... work... and poetry... these are the 2 things that actually make me feel alive and support my mediocre life that I must say, I almost forget about my birthday.
Well, not totally forget, I mean who forgets birthday? Not even the humblest person do that. I mean it does not make me reflect as much. But as I write this piece I do, and you know, as you are getting old you become marginalised instead of standing for your own belief.
It is not so bad I guess. Although it takes a while before you feel content. It is not easy for me to feel content in a busy city like Jakarta.
Before I sat down in this exact foodcourt table, I was walking from my office to the mall in the dark. I was wearing heels. I arrived sweating and one female stranger gave me a bitchy look I could not appreciate. Maybe, she could not appreciate me either. It was fair enough.
I am here because I wanted to watch friends reading poetry and I waited for the traffic jam to slow down.
And before that I spent 12 hours of working. I checked in as early as 6.30am and left at 6pm. It was rough day, my brain was fried. I kept thinking on the poetry piece I am about to read tomorrow and I have not practiced it. It almost feels I lost a soul to the poetry. But then I cannot justify that I am the only one who is in a miserable position.
My creative director who has probably double check that mine, is working really hard. So is my account manager. I mean every single one of us has a responsibility to fulfil. It is not like a poetry, where it is everything is about you. Life is not like a poetry--that's a line right there
So I feel as I get older, I feel smaller. This is not a humble brag but it is also the thing that makes me sad too.
Happy Birthday!
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