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You Can't Expect People You're Kind to, to be Kind Too.

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Our Common Mistake: Thinking People Would Do the Same You know that feeling when you do something kind for someone — maybe you text first, you check in, you help, you remember their birthday — and somehow, deep down, you expect they’d do the same for you? And when they don’t, you start wondering, “Am I asking too much?” or worse, “Do they even care?” Here’s the thing: one of the quietest mistakes we often make in relationships, friendships, even work, is this — we assume people would act, think, or feel the same way we do. We expect others to show love the way we show it. We expect them to care the way we care. We expect them to be as thoughtful, as considerate, as emotionally aware as we are. But people are not mirrors. They’re entire worlds with different weather, languages, and rules. Maybe you grew up in a home where saying thank you mattered. Someone else might have grown up where showing up mattered more than saying the words. You might think helping means offering s...
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The Complete Silence

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Pernah nggak sih kamu ngobrol sama seseorang, terus setelah sekian lama obrolan bergulir, kamu merasa tidak bisa berhenti ngobrol dengan dia? Bukan. Bukan karena topiknya seru, justru topiknya tidak terstruktur, tidak beresensi, bahkan tidak ada topik. Cuma keberadaannya saja, dan keberadaan kalian berdua yang membuat semuanya lebih bermakna dari isi obrolannya. Dan anehnya, kamu nggak merasa butuh untuk menjelaskan apa-apa. Kalimatmu bisa setengah, dan dia tetap paham. Kadang diam pun terasa seperti bahasa yang sama. Ada ruang yang tidak diisi kata, tapi justru di sanalah kedekatan itu tumbuh — bukan karena intensitas bicara, tapi karena kehadiran yang saling diterima. Mungkin begini rasanya “ nyambung ” dalam arti yang paling jujur. Bukan karena sepakat dalam segala hal, tapi karena ada frekuensi yang sama — tenang, hangat, dan tidak memaksa. Kalian tidak sedang berusaha membuat kesan, tidak juga ingin terlihat menarik. Kalian cuma… ada. Dan ketika perbincangan itu selesai, kamu me...
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The Day I Skipped Breakfast (and Survived...barely)

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They say breakfast is the most important meal of the day. They also say you can’t pour from an empty cup. Well, I found out the hard way that you also can’t function from an empty stomach. It all started one random morning when I decided to skip breakfast. You know, just a small rebellion against the nutrition gods. I told myself, “It’s fine, I’ll just eat later.” Spoiler alert: I didn’t eat later. By 10 AM, my stomach was already composing a full orchestra. By 11, my brain had officially submitted its resignation letter. By noon, I was seriously questioning all my life choices—including why I ever believed coffee could replace food. But here’s the twist: I survived. Yes, barely. My body was running on sheer willpower, caffeine, and regret, but it made it through. I reached the end of the day with my dignity slightly dented and my stomach plotting revenge. So, was skipping breakfast dangerous? Absolutely. Did I die? Not yet. Turns out, skipping breakfast won’t kill you instantly—it’ll ...
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The After-Lunch Fight

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The heat wasn't just from the food... It was a fully packed canteen. Elbows brushed, trays clattered, and the murmur of tired workers filled the humid air. We lunched anyway—not because it was pleasant, but because hunger and work pressure didn’t care for atmosphere. There was no time for patience, no room for comfort. The queue snaked like a dragon, and we weren’t about to bow to it. We didn’t wait. We didn’t ask. We grabbed each other’s fists. Right between the sticky tables and spilled chili sauce, we locked eyes and threw the first punch—not out of hatred, but because this was how we spoke. The only language we knew that wasn't dulled by meetings and deadlines. You ducked. I spun. You grinned. A tray hit the floor somewhere behind us. Someone gasped. Someone else cheered. Forks froze mid-air as we moved—like a dance without rhythm but full of intent. Your knee almost kissed my ribs. My elbow flirted with your shoulder. Each strike was a question: Are you still alive in ther...
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He Fell in Love with Islam, Again

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I've never specifically talked about him in my blog, (or maybe I have you just need to scroll if you want to make sure). But, let me tell you (probably again) this time. It's about my best friend, the internist. --- You know how some people grow up with religion around them, but it never really hits them until something big happens? That’s how it was for my friend. He was never the overly religious type. He respected Islam, sure — practiced when he could, asked big questions about God and life — but not the kind to get swept away in spiritual ecstasy. If anything, he was a realist, a thinker. Someone who believed, but hadn't yet  felt  the full weight of that belief.  What I always admired about him was his openness. He wasn’t blindly skeptical, nor was he blindly obedient. He had this honest kind of curiosity—about the universe, about God, about the Divine energy that surrounds everything. He'd ask deep, random questions about destiny, about du'a, about why pain e...
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Don't Sleep When Your Wife Doesn't

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Biggest mistakes men make: 1. They ignore the details 2. They sleep before their wives. Let me tell you: Don't. Female is the most complicated creature in this world. They're made of a man's rib, yet they are not below men to be ordered and controlled. They are not above men because biologically and physically not equally as strong as men, yet they have this other powers that men don't. One of those powers is presence . A woman remembers what you said two weeks ago, what you didn’t notice yesterday, and how you looked at her just this morning. She lives in the details. The little things you ignore are the very things that shape how she feels loved, safe, and seen. Don't believe her when she says "I'm okay", and "I'm used to it", and "it's not a big deal", and other too good to be true statements. No. She is not okay, and if you touch her in certain part(s) SHE WILL BREAKDOWN and probably burst into tears. She is on denial at...
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Asylum

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Our love is not that bold, not quiet. It does not sit politely at the dinner table or walk neatly in the daylight. It is wild, trembling, untamed. It is the place we run to when reason no longer matters. Our love is an asylum. A refuge where the walls close in but somehow keep us safe. A hidden chamber where the world cannot find us, cannot judge us. Here, we shed sense and slip into madness, wrapping ourselves in each other’s gravity. With you, I forget the edge between sanity and surrender. With you, I step off the cliff willingly. We land on another planet, and it feels like home—a home stitched from stolen hours, from glances too long, from whispers too soft for anyone else to hear. They would call us reckless. They would call us wrong. But what do names matter when my pulse finds rhythm in your touch? When reason unravels and all that’s left is the echo of your breath against mine? I do not ask to be saved. I do not ask to be understood. I ask only to lose myself in this asyl...
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