30 Things I Learnt From Finishing My 100 Pages Idea Book in (Almost) A Year: WIP Update #3

1. It took me the entire 10 months to think about at least 20 different ideas that have no depth at all.
2. It took me only 26 days to dig into one focused idea. 
3. I don't do tables. 
4. I do graphs. 
5. I draw rough sketches.
6. I don't need a neat hand-writing. 
7. I forget what I wrote.
8. I need to re-read (like.. thousand times) to go deep. 
9. I never really running out of ideas.  
10. I'm a hard-core plotter.
11. I outline better with a wooden pencil.
12. I don't do word count goals. 
13. I do focus-on-the-goddamn-idea goals.
14. Writing made me have nightmares. 
15. Writing made me cry.  
16. Writing 24/7 is not healthy.
17. My brain doesn't work at night. 
18. Coffee is a life savior. 
19. Coffee stops period!
20. Watching other writers' struggle helps.
21. Sharing to other writers about my struggle helps. 
22. Sharing to non-writers about my struggle increases anxiety. 
23. The 15-minutes-deep-work method works.
24. I don't need music. 
25. I need a raiforest background music.
26. I don't write in public. 
27. OneNote is better than Word (for though-dumping).
28. I say out loud ideas when I have too much of them.
29. When in public, I pretend like I'm on the phone, to record ideas. 
30. Imitating the writing structure of best-seller helps (a lot!).

Letting Her Go

I've been in a battle. 

Turns out, it's never been really a battle. 

It was just her, demanding my attention. 

Once I granted her request, 

she did leave for good. 

It was that simple.

But for some reasons, 

I couldn't see it back then. 

Another Home 2

She spent another five years living in Another Home. She wasn't too excited for coming back, nor too sad for leaving Hometown. She left her school in Hometown, when she was in her senior year of elementary school. Leaving her friends was never been a big deal for her. Mainly because she's never been so into making friends.

One Fine Day

Today, everything was perfectly fine. Just like any other days. I stayed in my room all day, wrote stuff, watched movies, had meals, had a coffee, replied mom's text, drank a lot of water, paid for the room rent, talked with my next-door mate. Everything was fine, but not until my chest told me I wasn't. I felt something heavy inside. Something I didn't know what to call. I cried before I knew it. 

"Is it all worth it?" I asked myself. I saw myself sitting in front of my laptop, along with my black book, pencil, eraser and a cup of coffee. Then, I saw myself on other days. I did the same thing, in the same place. 

"No, it is not," someone answered. 

My mind flew to days when I was younger. I was seven. I saw myself smiling while writing a story about a birthday girl. 

"Why didn't you tell her before? Why did you even let her have this silly ambition in such a young age? Why did you let that little girl believes on an arbitrary dream? Why didn't you warn her that she might regret having this desire?"

No one answered.

I cried louder. 

The next thing I know, was this someone inside my head, telling myself about how worthless I am. 

"You're not even worth the life you live," that someone said. "You've been telling lies in your whole life. You told yourself you can do this, while you know you can't. You're not good enough. You're a failure. People will make fun of you. Ooh, maybe they won't even bother making fun of you at all, because they just don't give a shit to you. They don't even know you're exist. 

"You're not a daughter your parents proud of, you're not a friend your friends care about, you're just not a human any human gives a shit to. 

"Maybe it would be better if you don't exist at all. Your mom will only have your sister and she'll be fine. Your ibu kos will have another tenant for this room and she'll be fine. Your best friends will have another person to befriend with and they'll be okay. Your crushes will have another girls to have crush on and they'll be good.  

"You can't do anything. You can't be anyone. You're nothing and you're no one. Your struggle is worthless, your tears, heavy breath and self-sabotaging mind is such a waste. Your life is such a waste.  

"Why do you even live? You shouldn't have even lived at all."

I shut it up. I couldn't breath. I gasped for air to fill my lung. My tears was all over my pillow case.

Then, the voices stopped. My head was back in silence. I was breathing again. I stopped crying. 

I know that someone is still there. She's in my head, waiting for another fine day to emerge, sabotage my mind, fill my chest with heavy stuff that I didn't even know I kept for all this time.

Another Home

A long time ago, there was a little girl who lived in the most memorable place on earth. People named that place Jogja. She named it Another Home. She lived there with her mother and little sister. Sometimes, her father came to visit. He would came along from a place called Hometown and brought her another piece of happiness. Whenever her three precious people was around, she knew that it couldn't be any happier. Until it was not.