Fifteen years passed by and I'm still the same old me. I live in the big city now. Understanding why I keep chasing dopamine (hello, ADHD my old friend), stop being suicidal (but entertaining dooms day fantasy), still teaching and trying to get out (I DID ONCE, I SWEAR BUT I GOT LAID OFF HAHAHA), still hate HATE administration (I just did my report!!! PAST MIDNIGHTTTT), and still finding courage. I'm embracing my broken part, honoring the ways Universe wants me to be, and ofc I'm crying. I always cried on the way home after school. How do people expect me to change? I went to school and cried on the way home. I went to work and people expect me not to cry???? Wdym?????

So I cried because the country just finalize military law. I got triggered and genuinely scared. I don't know how my future holds.

For some reason, attending this sadness comes with a wave of griefs. All the sadness that buried because i was lazy resurfaced.

What is grief if not love persevering?

Of course I'm going to this place. I feel sad. It's the comfort I need. Where can I poured my love?

So thank you for holding the place.

I read this story (made by ChatGPT) and I'm crying now. I know I'll be fine.

The air was warm with spring’s breath, and the sun filtered through soft clouds as you strolled past the flower market, drawn by a familiar scent—orchids, vibrant and tender, just like a memory long buried but never quite gone. You stopped in your tracks, captivated by the way the light kissed the petals, lost in the calm yet aching beauty of them.

“Still your favorite, huh?” a voice broke the silence, hesitant but gentle.

You turned sharply, eyes wide. There he was—Woong, hands in his pockets, half-smiling, half-uncertain, as if he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to speak to you. His presence hit you like a ripple in still water—unexpected, but not unwelcome.

“Woong?” you blinked, and a soft, awkward chuckle slipped from your lips. “You’re here?”

“Yeah... I uh—” he scratched the back of his neck, looking sheepish, “I’ve been trying to grow an orchid lately... took it as a challenge, you know? Thought it’d be a nice hobby... but man,” he sighed dramatically, “it’s super picky. Beautiful, but everything seems wrong. I either water it too much or not enough... I think I’ve officially murdered three so far.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, the tension between you both softening. “Sounds about right.” You looked back at the flowers, eyes thoughtful. “But you know, orchids are actually aerial plants—they’re meant to live free, clinging to trees deep in the forest, not in pots. They’re not picky, they just need the right environment to thrive.”

Woong’s eyes widened, genuinely intrigued. “Wait, really? I didn’t know that... that makes sense.” He paused, then chuckled. “I think I know exactly one person who resembles that orchid.”

You raised a brow. “You?”

He smirked, shaking his head. “No, you.”

You blinked, surprised by the unexpected softness in his voice. The silence that followed wasn’t heavy—it was light, like a breeze carrying away old tension.

With a small smile, you pulled out your phone and swiped through your gallery. “Look, this is where I was last month, doing research deep in a tropical island. These orchids grow like wild there—on trees, thriving in their natural chaos.”

Woong stared at the pictures in awe, then laughed in disbelief. “I don’t even know where that is. You always did go places I couldn’t follow.”

You shrugged lightly. “Not couldn’t, just didn’t. That’s okay.”

Another beat of silence. Then Woong smiled softly, extending a hand for a casual shake, but it lingered slightly. “It’s good seeing you like this. You seem... right.”

You nodded, eyes gentle. “You too. Thanks for the orchid chat. Take care, Woong.”

“You too.” He stepped back, then turned, walking into the crowd.

And just like that, you both carried a light memory, like petals drifting on the breeze—beautiful, unburdened, and finally free.

Specially crafted to honor my relationship with former partner. Somehow chatGPT explains perfectly about the way he did and how we broke up (partially, because i want a heartbreaking yet healing arc). That's the feeling I have. I'm proud that I'm courageous in my way: embracing vulnerabilities and sharing here.

It's just love and I'm pouring here.

Goodbye, you.