Please..........

Take my hand. We can make it out alive. Through the smoke, through the dusk and the noise of all that nothing. Away from the scraping and the looming shadows creeping along walls, away from skeleton lies and vampire smiles. The wasteland of our memories, all ash and bitter tastes in our mouths, will be nothing but an old photograph you’ll look at once in a while. You’ll show me, and I’ll barely remember, and we’ll smile in recognition over cooling cups of coffee.

Things written on my heart

I want to harmonize with you and write music for days. Take my hand and paint our deepest desires on the ceiling. They fit so perfectly between these plastic glow-in-the-dark stars. Sing me your dreams and I’ll take it all in. You are different and I cannot see past those ocean eyes. We could carry this somewhere; perhaps to an undiscovered galaxy or some far-off forest. Shed your skin and dance in the moonlight with me. Life is too short not to dance when we can. Love is too fleeting not to fall into. And the truth sometimes hurts.

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Summer's HIT!

Or more like, Hanna is homesick for Indonesia after 12 months in Australia.

MHMMM actually, I"ll be home for new year (CNY). can't wait any longer SERIOUSLY. It hurts when I log in to Facebook and see all the pics of my friends who are home already spending time with their families or the gorgeous delicious food whatsoever (damn Facebook!). But yeah. 49 more days. 1176 more hours. 70560 more minutes. It’s not that long. I hope.

By the way I’m done with my fourth semester of tertiary academy. Well not 100% done as results are out next week *heart beating faster* but yeah all I need to do now is to find a part time job and then ADIOS PERTH SEE YOU IN FALL.

From what I learned, here’s when I feel homesick the most. I don’t know, is it different for everyone? Probably..

• When you just move in.
• IN WINTER. Especially if you’re from a warm country like me.
• When it’s someone’s birthday. By someone I mean family, hmm like mom, dad, siblings or or maybe a close friend. Because all you can do is limited in only posting a YouTube video singing all along or send them an e-mail or text, and not an actual hug :(
• NOW, LIKE, WHEN YOU’RE THIS CLOSE TO ACTUALLY GOING HOME. BECAUSE YOU SUDDENLY REALIZE HOW HARD IT IS TO BE PATIENT.

But. Okay. Inhale. Exhale. 49 days. It’s gonna be alright. January, 28th will come eventually.

Question!

Sometimes I wonder about my life. I lead a small life. Well, not small, but valuable. And sometimes I wonder, do I do it because I like it, or because I haven't been brave? So much of what I see reminds me of something I read in a book, when shouldn't it be the other way around? I don't really want an answer. I just want to send this cosmic question out into the void. So good night, dear void.

I mean it

I've always known that you're gonna go far. We're gonna shine in two different directions. It's okay, even though it's not always the case for me. I'm sincerely happy for you :)

Reflection on my life

Outside the station, she stands with her child on the side of the street, taking pictures of cars.

You think she’s insane. Until, one day, you notice that she’s taking pictures of the license plates of the cars her child gets into.

Because you look. But you do not see.

And she walks out the shop with bags full of cat food. You think she’s some crazy cat lady until you find out, she has no cats.

Because you eat. But you do not taste.

It’s been a while since their last album but he assures you, he’s doing just fine these days, white flecks in his nostrils. Then he asks you if he can spend the night on your couch, even though it stinks.

Because you sniff. But you do not smell.

And they say “Just OK” when you ask them how school was. Then you wonder what they’re hiding until you find their diary and the last entry reads “I wish you’d give me some privacy.”

Because you listen. But you do not hear.

And they’ve got a bruise over their eye and you run the tips of your fingers over it and ask them how it happened. You believe them. Until it happens again.

Because you touch. But you do not feel.

And they walk past you everyday, one million stories, each waiting to be told. Waiting for you to ask.

Because you live. But very few, love.