About What Will Happen in the Future

I’ve been thinking lately, where am I going to continue after high school ends?

Apparently, choosing a major in college is harder than it sounds. There has to be a thorough thinking, and a lot of consideration of some aspects. We also mustn’t forget about our dreams, because we could be closer to our dreams because of college. 

Yet, this heart always filled with doubts. Fear of getting failures. 

Please pray for me to stand on my ground, and work harder to achieve my dreams. 

Please keep remind me that I must not give up on my dreams. 

I won’t give up before I entered the war zone.

And I won’t give up at all either.


busy, hectic, yet somehow joyful

I’m in the senior year now. Third year of high school. The last year.

A lot of things are going on right now. School always give more homework than needed, and student council is on its most busy schedule of all year. Twelfth grade filled with both academic and non academic stuffs. 

The first weeks weren’t easy though. I had to cope with everything all of so sudden, and I didn’t get used to it back then, so all I did was crammed tons of work in one day, and procrastinating dayd before that. I know, I’m actually such a loser.

I went down for some time, just because I can’t handle my own thoughts that wandered too far, and it wss so hard to fathom them all at that moment.
But I have learned from that. I chose not to think about it.

I chose to just do every work that needed to get done with my best, and with no help from the other. I hope in the end, I can be an independent person, who loves to do her tasks on time and erase the word procrastination on her dictionary. 




My grandpa is someone serious. I think I inherited that personality too, because sometimes, I feel like I actually have zero funny side. When others seemed to enjoyed and relaxed and laughed hard at one moment, what I did was stared blankly and found nothing funny.

Anyway, let’s move on. 

My grandpa is an old man. He’s 73 years old now, and once in a while he will tell me how hurt his legs and he need to stop walking ini a far distance. He currently stays in my house, because my aunt just gave birth and my grandpa wanted to see his newborn granddaughter. 

He is the type of man whom everyone respect. My mother said, in her hometown, my grandpa is an imam shalah in a mosque close to his house. Each day, many among the folks who live there follow his command in prayers. He always managed to come to the mosque at least half an hour before the adzan heard by the houses complexions.

The nearest mosque located in my residence are 100 metres away. Maybe it took only five minutes to get there. However, my grandpa, doesn’t like the ambiance there. He prefers the mosque that is located almost 600 metres away from home. Usually he goes there by bike. But when his legs feel numb and start to ache, he will stop riding the bike, and choose to walk instead.

Walking may sounds better, but to a 73-year-old man, walking could be such a pain even though he walked as slowly as possible, and walk with no rush at all. 

But he never stop walking. Five times a day. He’ll took off from home at 4 am, back at 6 am, and so on. Fitting his time with the prayers time.
My grandpa bear the pain, just to pray in the mosque, in the first line of shalah and in the exact time, and he put prayer first before everything.

Pain is not supposed to slowed you down.

It supposed to lift you up, and make you stronger than before.

Make you feel you ought to and must overcome the pain to get things you desired, and not giving up because you can’t hadle the pain well. 

Growing Up

It was just yesterday, I did accompany my sister (9 years old) to the nearest stationery store, because she said she needed some new stuffs. When we arrived there, she constantly looking for notebooks. I asked her, “Hey, do you want the ones with Frozen cover on it?”. She was like this huge fan of Frozen, she collects lots of Frozen goods.

Well, maybe she was.

Shockingly, here’s what she replied with : “I don’t like Frozen anymore. It’s too childish. I’d rather have the ones that looked Parisian  vintage.”

As an older sister, I’ve always notice the kind of things she liked. Partly because she always talk about the same thing over and over again. But this time, I had no idea that she’s growing up so fast. All of her notebooks from the fourth grade was Frozen, her bag, her wallet, her pensil case, her t-shirt–and nowsuddenly she hates everything!

I guess it’s true, eh, that we barely recognise that other people are growing up real fast because we’re too busy growing up too?