Thirties.

 15/7/2025

The date. It’s been four years since my dad passed away… What’s strange is that, even without consciously remembering the exact date, something within me always knows. My body, my mind—they start to feel it. It’s like an unspoken signal, reminding me to pause… to mourn, even just for a little while.

Aboh, kakak rindu aboh. Maafkan kakak masih belum dapat menjadi seorang yang beriman anak yang berbakti.. 

Since you’ve been gone, I’ve made so many mistakes. I’ve done things I’m not proud of—sinned more than I can count. I feel lost. I’ve had countless breakdowns, and I had no one I could really talk to about it. I used to speak my mind, say things as they were, even if it made people dislike me. But now... it feels pointless to say anything at all. Like no one would understand—or even care.

Even now… the things I used to be passionate about—working, auditing—they’ve started to feel like a burden. What once gave me purpose now feels heavy, empty. I’m lost.

Even as I write this, I’m in tears—finally trying to give voice to emotions I’ve carried in silence for so long. It hurts to write this… but maybe it’s because I’m finally allowing myself to feel what I’ve buried for so long.