Diplomatic Talks

No one asks but I am gonna say it anyway: "yes this was written using cellular" thats why the font et ceteras dont seem super neat and for that I am sorry.

Okay. Whatever.

The title might drive u to the wrong-ways. Let me explain.

The intention of me write this thoughtful post is not to voice my opinion(s) on  Indon and its international-more-political-relations, or India (which surprisingly) has Intercontinental Ballistic Missile(s) that never-been-used and its impact to Indonesia *if any, but i choose not to care bc my head hurts. I write this as a result of what-so-called broken. What's broken? My mind. And why is it diplomatic? Because *with the utmost respect towards me and y'all the readers as  human-persons* I restrain myself to put profanities in the most diplomatic way. Wow. U got it? Nah?

Ok.

I've been thinking about the idea of love and the art of falling for 5 months. Why is it me? Should I really have to feel and fall?The truth is, I've lost words. I have no logic-explanation whatsoever, but, I have a story. Before u start reading literally everything, I recommend you to play Crying over You by Honne on Spotify.

[Crying over You starts playing in the background]

I met someone, almost-a-complete stranger, at a coffee shop. [I dont even drink coffee, but...] I went to a coffee shop. If u guys think my story kinda looks like FTVs, then y'all better repent bc it wasnt like that. I met him by intention. I wanted it, vice versa *as a matter of fact, we both knew each other (for the very first time) from the internet. That's what: "by intention" mean.

I don't remember what we were discussing that time, but I do remember how I felt during the convos: safe. No more, no less.

(let's pretend I've told ya errthing)

Long story short, I knew something not right happened to my brain. It no longer worked properly: I couldn't think logically, got angry easily, and quite Djibouti. What was that strange thought(s)? Why I got super mad to a person just because he was breathing? What was the urgency of me phone-called someone so intense? Why I cried during a-should-be peace time? *cry intensifies*

How did the story end?

It ended with me falling. Was that love? I don't really think that was *sigh* it. I didn't want him to die. I wanted to have his problems. 

He was like a Mare Liberum to me: I caould freely sail on it, but have no right to proclaim. Not a good fact but okay. Along with that, I finally understood (partially, ok, genius takes time) about the concept of "peoples come & go." Xchillxx. I am now ready to get hurt again. Impressive. Are you even Me? *screams in logic*

Ok. Enough for today. I wish y'all a goodluck. Bye.

*the Author's note:

[To Whom it May Concern]

Oh, hi, it was you! Not Alexandra Ocasio (I even wrote her name incorrectly). Stay healthy. Keep alive. Thx for your weird yet ugly playlists. I hate 'em but of course I (still) listen to them 24 hours everyday. I xx you for the past time yesterday. Peace out.

Sincerely,

Me.