i’m woman,
a woman, who always seek my own room,
only me, my thoughts and no one even could reach it.
woolf said, “anon, who wrote so many poems without signing them, was often a woman.”
i cannot write bewitch like her,
perhaps she delivered a migraine after i’m reading her works,
good luck, woolf.
i was thinking about what should i do after graduate?
how to pass my thesis with great score? did i went to college for aiming number? that so ridiculous.
i hate put myself when everyone except something for me,
i hate my brother asking me, what does this means? dude, this is twenty one century, bold that fuck words and there will be options look up and your phone will automatically finds the dictionary, i’m not oxford dictionary living, look at my grammar, mess, not really comfort to read,
i know i should do something,
at least crashing this system until its burn and vanish, dude, i’m frustrated
i’m twenty old year woman that easily suffered because someone screaming or yelling that sometimes reminds me my darkest childhood,
wow this poem sounds cliché, maybe, in five years soon will delete it because, i have a tendency to hate myself again,
that fragility still shown, please disappear,
i was part of you too, what do you want?
leave me, i want to, at least, doing something without doubtful or awkward gesture or niggling gaze when someone talks with me, i hate being sweaty
then do it,
then go away,
and this poem did not even look beauty like Keats pouring his faith and love in his words,
sometimes, when i was really alone, like this, like how i’m writing this unstructured poems, about what slightly, concerned that appears, like a pop of news on chinese smartphone products that connected with dubiety newsletter with anonymous journalist.
i’m thinking about my lecture, i know i should do something, one of them finished their tasks but i end up writing this, perhaps, when he noticed it was me writing this nonsense, i hope he can forgive me or he assuming i was doing my diary on this media.
i was thinking about, i need to go away, like one hundred mill from my parent, actually i’m not that problematic, i just hate conflict in family, dude, i’m really sick of that, twenty years!
if i have a lot money, like the elite or capitalist in the world, i would like to create something for the poor, where they are can exploring their hobby and can turn in to be their jobs, or the children that cannot go to school, but i should fix first how the institution of education can spread fair fully the system, not only Java.
localisation and tourism, i have some concern in that field because its related with sustainability, actually other fields too, but i need educate myself first, i cannot brave to write it.
oh gosh! the deadline chasing me, i cannot write anything, i cannot write. someone please help me.
