A little mess in this world that believes in science and faith, not entitled to be a writer  and I don't consider myself as a "writer". It is my hobby my one and only sanctuary when I get lost around the things that makes me uncomfortable. My thoughts are like stone ; it can be rough and smooth, it can be big and small and it can be fragile and strong. These thoughts that runs in my cloudy head is evaporated through a deep hole and no one can dig it and no one will ever understand it. That's why I am writing on a piece of paper were my thoughts are alive and my emotions are natural that even if I cry or laugh no one can judge me and no one will ever know me.


A professional gift napper  | A lover of cats but can't own her own pet because of allergy | Scattered brain poetess |A stupid ranter | An individual who had a big height but has a low self esteem |18 years of existence in the entire universe bad ass since 1998 | A weird music lover and I myself had a weird taste of music | Writing is my hobby but every time I lost my pen I always get lazy | An organism whose made up with molecules of coffee | A supporter of myself | What are emotions? I don't how to express them | Extremely introvert inside acting like an extrovert outside.

-A living PARADOX. I am the epitome and Queen of imperfection because they're judgments never defined you, you are who you are do what makes you happy.