Dear, World. Love, Jenny.

My favorite authors are Haruki Murakami and Banana Yoshimoto. Just saying. 😉

I’d like to start this post with saying that maybe I really love how Japanese authors write. They always give me a profound feeling, almost always a good read even if it’s fiction— always making me think or ponder on things. Well, this book is written by another Japanese author, Toshikazu Kawaguchi.

My senior in residency training lent me this book, told me to read it because she said I seem to be the type who’d love this kinds of book. Whatever she meant by that, she’s correct. I love this novel. I don’t want to spoil it but my favorite sub-story is the one with “The Sisters”. It’s the one that, in my opinion, gave justice to traveling back in time and answered the question, “if you could go back, who would you want to meet?”

As for me, it’s more of a when, not a ‘who’. If i’d go back, it’s when I choose other people instead of myself, when I gave more than I should, when I sacrificed my own happiness. And then change it all, and choose ME. Yes, you read it right, I want to go back to when I can be selfish and prioritize myself. As bad as it may sound, I just think myself in the present would be so much better if I did all that.

But then again, I also want to go back to when I hurt other people, especially those I love or loved. Not to change anything but to say sorry. Apologize, learn from all of them, and never commit the same mistakes.

I love time travelling stuff. I also believe that an alternative universe exists. I’m a fan of second chances. What I don’t like, is my coffee getting cold .

Feels like a train that won’t come…

I’m happy. Being productive. Trying to be healthy. Spending time with friends. Good start, 2023. Thank you. 🙏🏼💪🏼 […]

Who am I?

Well, I am a whole lot more than just someone’s lover.

I am a lover of strange things. Interesting, unconventional, spectacular things. I am a lover of atoms, of vectors, of moon’s waxing and waning and how it affects the tides, of robots and circuits, of cloud formations, of the rain, of giraffes and capybaras, of divergence and undefined calculations of the cosmos.

I am a lover of genuine friendships. I am proud to say that I am a good friend, that I put a lot of respect in bonds and connections with other people. That I am present whenever I am needed, and even when people just want to be random and whatnot.

I am a lover of dialogues. Of all things stimulating my intellect, whether written, illustrated or verbalized.

I am a lover of performance. Of excellence. I want to say that I am a good doctor — for wanting to try everyday, for studying, for paying more attention to why I made a mistake, for actually being compassionate or emphatic to my patients.

I am a lover of simple and grand things. Of similarities and differences. Of metonyms. And of ironies.

You said you do not deserve a spot here, but here I am l, responding and making a post for/because of you. I told you, I’m a lover of ironies.

We can’t really get out of this without any scars, noh? No matter what we do, no matter how we try to understand and forgive and accept things, we really can’t move on without being scarred or bruised or left with complications.

Since the first, I wish I was given a love that’s not selfish, and just exists as it is, a love that is easy. So I wouldn’t have to chase, wouldn’t have to go through being manipulated, not neglected or wasn’t pushed to change.

All those landmines waiting to explode in domino effect wouldn’t have existed if weren’t planted there by decieving or lying and acting on things. We should’ve stopped there. Right when the first blast mine exploded.

Okay.

Enough.

This piece stops here. There shouldn’t be a place for hate in my heart. There shouldn’t be room for blame and regret, no what-ifs, no unnecessary drama.

This whole thing is beyond exhausting that I couldn’t do more than just saying ‘okay’ — as in okay, universe, whatever you say. Whatever will be, will be.