Life doesn’t always turn out as planned. The things you hope for aren’t always what you get. 

Like growing up, when we were kids, we always wanted to be grown ups. But we miss our carefree childhood once we shed the peach fuzz and baby fat then turn into adults.

True, you can grow old but not grow up. But by choosing so, the system shall frown upon thou. 

In this world, time defines everything. When one should be conceived, be born, enter preschool, kindergarten, elementary school, junior high, highschool, college, graduate, get a job, go travelling, get married, pay mortgage, have kids, have more kids, and make sure the kids go through the same path as you (hopefully) with less obstacles.  

Though we perfectly know we can die any second. 

For me, if my life seems shitty, I try to remember where I come from and how I got here. What makes me special in my own imperfect ways.

I try to listen to the music I used to identify myself with. 

Also, find new music I can identify myself with later on and singalong or dance to, of course. 

Do stuff that I used to enjoy doing by making time, not finding it. Even if it means less sleep on the omprengan. 

All, in order for me to stay grounded in my own self. Not the daughter Dian, not the wife Dian, not the sister Dian, not the Ahli Surga wannabe Dian, not the secretary Dian. 

Just Dian. 

Dian the light. 

Dian the kind.

Dian the moody.

Dian the lazy.

Dian the crafty.

Dian the sleepyhead.

Dian the writer.

Dian the uptight. 

Dian the negative.

Dian the pacifist.

Dian the endorphin junkie. 

Then concentrate on the good ones.