I decided to go to Mojo today. It is a Sunday morning, and I haven’t had a Sunday off for so long; it feels so sacred to finally be off and doing nothing. Am I coming back to my own rhythm now? I hope so. I have many things to share, many things to write about regarding my life updates, both external and internal. I have been putting it off for so long. I hope I have found my way back to that sacred way of being now. But then, I want to take it slow. Real slow. Poetry, crafting, nature, and quiet moments, just like this, are so sacred. And maybe so much so that sometimes I’m just scared to put them onto paper. I’m just scared because I perhaps never want to turn them into what they never are. But moments like this are worth keeping, aren’t they? They might just need a place to feel belonged and cherished. Yes. And perhaps I should do more writing to cherish those moments, to make sure they have passed long before they were made alive, and yet, they are still here in my heart and in my veins.

It took me a while to remember the name of the song playing in the background. That familiarity and yet so much distance in memory is weird and so hard to fathom. As if you know it well and yet you know nothing about it. Pale Blue Eyes. Yes, that is the name. And it reminds me of those past memories, of a younger me and the Perfect Days playlist. I ordered a cup of matcha latte today, perhaps for the first time in my life. I wanted to try something different. Not chai masala, not chai latte. Mojo has become a favourite corner in town. I love the atmosphere, and it somehow reminds me of so many things in the past. It’s interesting. The girl behind the bar probably remembers my face. Well, I guess so. And I love so. It’s a bit busy on this Sunday morning, and I’m sitting by the window, enjoying a bit of people-watching, the music, and my matcha. Someone is sitting beside me, focusing on his painting. And this, I think, is a good spot.

I decided to do some writing today as reading hasn’t brought me much joy lately (well, only for now, for sure). It’s interesting how I find it easier to write or read at a coffee shop. The smell of coffee and the background noise somehow trigger my creativity; I love it and have no problem tuning into this instead of anything else. So, perhaps a lot of words will come out as I write and write and write. Let’s see how far we go together in these funny hours at a coffee shop.

So, where shall I begin? I thought I needed a moment to summarize what I truly want to write and how to put it neatly in my journal. But I’ve realised maybe it’s better to just write whatever comes to mind. I’ll begin where my mind lands, and a bit of “jump writing” isn’t a bad idea, I guess. It’s funny, the whole journey of me being here in this moment.

Perhaps we all know how hard last year was for me. Looking back, I still cannot imagine how hard and dark it was. It feels as if I were going through a “dark night of the soul,” but it was necessary, I know.

It took me a long time to make sense of it. Well, I guess I will never make sense of it. But at least I no longer feel the need to make sense of everything. Life is funny, and perhaps I’ve learned this the hardest way: to be okay with not knowing everything, not having all the answers, and not having closure. Was I a fool to have such an intense reaction to what happened? Well, I guess so. And that’s okay too, because in the end and in many ways, life is already a foolish experience.

I still remember how hard I cried. I cried for myself, for life, and for everything. For a story that died too soon. I cried while sitting in a meditation hall. I cried while lying in bed at night. I cried not because I wanted the story to last, but because I was left in the dark and not truly sure if I should keep going or come back to where I was.

But I let myself feel what I feel. I let my body feel what it feels because, deep down, I know that is the only way I can heal. And I’m deeply grateful that I did it this way. It has become a memory now, and this short-lived story has taught me so much about life, attachment, and more importantly, myself. I have come out of it with more life, more acceptance, and resilience. I’m forever grateful.

Yeah. I was a fool then. I am a fool now. I will forever be a fool, and it is perfectly okay, too. As life, in many ways, is a playground filled with foolish experiences.

The coffee shop is getting busier and busier. I’m getting a bit worried that I’m taking up a seat space for well over an hour and only ordered a single matcha. Should I get going and leave the rest of our thing for tomorrow or another morning, perhaps? Yes. it’s a better idea.

~ Mojo, Sunday May 24th, 2026