I’ve been unhappy since… since I can’t remember. Some of you might see me as an ungrateful person right away. Well, you have the right to do so. But, it is good to hear people grumbling about their imperfect life, isn’t it? You will feel normal. You will know that you’re not alone. Look! Even Amalia is unhappy! 😀
Okay, okay, maybe unhappy is such a too strong word. Of course I am happy at times. I am happy when I get my wonderful mark. I am happy when I get a full plate of nasi padang Sari Ratu with gulai otak. I am happy when I watch Sondre Lerche live. I am happy when my haircut looks cute. I am happy when I can sleep 12 hours in a day. I am happy when I get a seat on the bus.
Yeah, it is true. “Happy” is not the word. I should use other term like… um… “content”? Ah, but don’t make me write a long and boring definition and explanation on the difference between happiness and contentment. No, thank you very much. You search it yourself, please :D.
However, for the sake of simplicity, let me call it happy and happiness. Just know that sometimes what I actually mean is “content” and “contentment.”
Here is the thing. I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what will make me happy. I thought, a cool job will make me happy. It’s not. I thought love will make happy. It’s not. I thought, a pretty dress with incredibly soft fabric will make happy. It’s a big NO. I feel something is missing in my life. I thought, I know what it is. Well, I don’t.
—– thinking process —–
I think I should write another book. I remember clearly how happy I was in the whole process of publishing a book. The writing process, the editing, the cover designing, the launching, the talk shows, and all. I felt existed. I felt alive. I felt important. I felt pretty. I felt smart. I felt creative. I felt rich. I felt happy. I felt content.
So why don’t start it like… now? Now your ass! (pardon my language). I have my reason.
Some people believe that writing a novel is about persistence dan discipline. I believe so. But I also believe that to be in persistence stage, I need to take the very first step. The step which is beyond my control. The step of being chosen. Being chosen by the inspiration that picks my brain to transform it into words… pages of words. Writers don’t look for an inspiration. The inspiration comes to them. Just like magic.
I am unhappy. I keep too much jealousy in my mind. And at times like this, I miss my old me. The part of me which is strong and confident. Which needs no man to put a smile on my face. So, this is about a man? Or some stupid men that don’t treat me as I expected? You will soon laugh because I will say… yes. Some stupid men (and some stupid women too) have brought my mood and my self-assurance down.
Ugh, this writing becomes a useless ranting. I shouldn’t post it because it will be poisoning my “lately-well-mannered” blog. But… WTH! I am sure lots of people out there enjoying someone’s desperation. So are you.
So, let me entertain you.
😀 –> fake smiley 😀