4 juli 26 sabtu

 

siang kerja di ce ita

allahuakbar

3 juli 26 jumat

 

siang kampus sampah

jumatan

pxmart eror

lopan ngantuk

wrg ayam

allahuakbar

2 juli 26 kamis

 

pg shopee

kampus sampah

pul

siang kampus sampah

print

tokobuah

wrg preman

hujan

allahuakbar

1 juli 26 rabu

 

pg atm

femi transfer

pul

dokter gigi

apotek

pul

sore kerja di ce ita mpe malam

allahuakbar

30 juni 26 selasa

 

femi kopi

kampus ujian proposal

louisa with mbak riris

meet raksa bu fina dek yuda bu ndari

allahuakbar

thx u bu riris

 

Questions

 

They were asked a few questions,
then silence embraced them
like an old friend
who had been waiting all along.

I,
on the other hand,
stood beneath a storm
where every answer
became the seed
of another question.

Perhaps
my proposal was not polished enough.
Perhaps
my arguments still trembled.
Perhaps
I simply had more to learn.

It hurt.

For a fleeting moment,
I mistook correction
for failure,
and criticism
for proof
that I was not enough.

Then there was the noise.

A child wandered
through the room,
restless,
turning concentration
into scattered fragments.

Yet somehow,
when others stood
where I had stood,
the room was calm.

Coincidence?
Arrangement?
Fortune?

I will never know.

And perhaps
I no longer need to.

Because peace
does not come
from understanding
every unfair moment.

It comes
from choosing
not to let bitterness
write the ending.

So today,
I choose gratitude.

Gratitude
for the questions
that forced me to think deeper.

Gratitude
for the flaws
that refused
to let me settle
for mediocrity.

Gratitude
for surviving
the longest hour
of my academic journey.

Now,
my desk
is covered
with revisions—

pages bleeding
with ink,
comments,
and expectations.

It looks overwhelming.

But mountains
are never climbed
in a single step.

Page by page.
Sentence by sentence.
Correction by correction.

I will return.

Not because
I am already brilliant,

but because
I refuse
to let today's struggle
become tomorrow's regret.

One day,
these revisions
will no longer feel
like wounds.

They will become
the fingerprints
of perseverance—

proof
that I did not stop
when the questions
became too many.