Dear Wankerville.

Dear Wankerville, 

It’s 3 am where I live. I literally just finished reading part 3 of the great Strawberry Milk fic; Lumière, Darling. I’m on my bed sitting across my window, my eyes are puffy and red, I’m clutching my bears so tight it hurts. And no, it’s not because of your sweet sweet story. It’s cos of your end notes. You sincerely wish that each of us could experience how great it felt finding some safety feelings in anyone, or anything. And just…that. I broke down crying on that. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. For your endearing end note. And yes. I can totally relate to H and all his…things, I truly do. And I can understand what you’re trying to tell the world. I can see through the story. I just want to let you know that I appreciate every scene you put Lou into; even though I’m still skeptical about the existence of a human being like him, it warms my heart to know that at least he exists in somebody else’s mind. Thank you for making him oh-so supportive. For taking us in their sincere point of views. Thanks for making them utterly beautifully fall for each other in the most non-annoying, non-cheesiest way. And H’s vulnerability; thank you for putting it into such beautiful beautiful words. You’re right, we personally relate and are attached to the fic in different ways. 

I’ve found my safety place in things, you know, fics, my phone, perfume, and stationary; mostly. I totally get that. But I haven’t found it on a living breathing person, yet. I don’t know, I don’t feel like having a big hope. Cos I’m not living in a fic and there’s only so much I can do.  So thank you, your fic lived off one of my dreams, in a way. And I couldn’t be happier. Thank you, for the warmest, softest, longest fan fiction I’ve ever read. You’ve put a lot of effort into it and please know that it’s very much appreciated. Thank you for letting me experienced those silly feelings; I may seemed sad even pathetic  to other people but I think it’s grand what you did back there, and I knew better than be ashamed of what I truly felt. I’m one of those non-believers, but you’re right. It’s about our own judgement, whether they deserve to be such huge thing; being safety place – to us or not. And we just have to find the right person to have one. I hope I find one. 

I’m glad that you’ve found yours. You better hold onto her dearly; I know you will. And I hope you get to meet H & L in person. Heck, I hope they read strawberry milk fic backstage and blush furiously. Hahaha. I hope you’re happy. You deserve all happiness in the universe. 

All the love,

Your emotional reader.


What even is strawberry milk?

Strawberry milk. I’ve seen it in couple of tweets, it popped up several times whenever I was digging for new fics, and it’s been mentioned in countless author’s notes. They friggin called it strawberry milk fic; “this is a strawberry milk fic AU”, “based on strawberry milk fic”, “where strawberry milk makes a wrong turn”, etc. At first I was like what? What kind of sick fic was that? Who would want to read it? And I snorted. I fucking snorted. In my defense, I never found the original post, I just kinda stumbled upon reblogged, reblogged stuff- Haz’s a boy who loves to paint his nails different colors, wear women clothes, and drink strawberry milk- wasn’t much of an appealing summary was it? It’s way too low, too disgraceful to describe such a gentle, delicate fic. That one night I decided to hunt (yes hunt. It’s such a complicated task, mind you) for a long, worthy fic. The ones with legit storyline, enough smut, banter; it’s like glue that binds the story together, and good H & L vibes. So yes. Hunt. The key to find a good fic in one go is the word-count, I think? I would never download a fic that had less than 10k words. And never ever read “on-going” ones. Ugh they’re the worst. Cos I hate how pathetic I’d get, waiting for authors to update even just a chapter. So. I found a fic called Cause All You Are Is All I’ll Ever Need by Wankerville (lol ikr). It’s 900+ pages long with promising summary. I was beaming. So I decided to give it a shot. Then the words “part 2 of strawberry milk fiction” underlined, colored in blue, caught my eyes and I was like, this bloody strawberry milk! – but ended up downloading all 3 of them anyway, out of curiosity. And annoyance.

And that’s when my life, well my mental stability to say the least, took a sick turn. 

Omg how do I put it into words without disgracing the fic? Ok so one sunny day Hazza accidentally walked into a cafe and sit beside none other than Lou. Being a twat that he was, Lou gave H snide remarks about his painted nails and bottled up strawberry milk. To Lou, H was the weirdest weirdo he’s ever met. The guilt set up right when he saw H’s terrified state. And when he abruptly took off, Lou was devastated, feeling utterly disgusted at himself. He befriended H the next week and cooly apologized. Looking at H’s scratched and faded nails, he couldn’t help but said something along the line of self confidence and not giving a fuck about what other people think. And since then they drew a bit and a bit closer each day. 

At first Lou (and I) thought that Haz was down right weird. He had pink-pastel colored room. Not only walls but pillows, fairy lights, towels, and all pricey furniture, arranged neatly, so clean, so pink. And girly. I could literally imagine being in a princess bedroom. He had tons collection of scented candles, body washes -literally all variants, scrubs, and racks of pastel colored nail polish. And he drank strawberry milk. Fucking strawberry milk. When he’s away he would bring strawberry milk in a clear fancy bottle. Strawberry milk. If you asked me to describe Hazza in words I’d say: Pastel. Pink. Fragile. Delicate. Princess. Pink. Pink. Pink. The softest pink. Not the kind of pink that hurt your eyes and made you think about boldness, vulgarity and snort in disgust. Not any typical pink. It’s hazza’s pink. And he’s like the softest soft big ball of warmth out there. He’s careful, secluded, introvert. But warm. And pink. 

Turned out there’s so much more than met the eye. H was in an abusive relationship for years. He’s gone through great length of terrible terrible things, I still shudder whenever that specific chapter comes to mind. And he was traumatized. As fuck. He had like legit PTSD. The one you found in psychiatric books. Real PTSD. The writer, Wankerville (soz can’t help but lol) has been describing it right. Hats off. 

Long story short, Lou was there in each step of the way to fix Hazza. Fix. How do you fix broken human being? God, this fic I swear. It drained your emotion down to ugly state. It’s tiring. Watching H’s breakdowns stressed me out more than you could imagine. But there’s also certain magnetic pull that lured me in, not wanting to lock my phone and give my poor eyes rest. I’ve been reading non-stop on all surface of my room. I’ve been sitting cross-legged on my bathroom clutching my towel tight around my chest, feeling suffocated as fuck; tucked under my big blanket blushing like 5th grader; I even made meself a new cozy spot at the corner of my room- cos it’s the closest to a socket. My eyes are dry, due to insufficient amount of blinking, and my thumb hurts from scrolling. Eagerly. And I slowly am obsessed with anything pink (haz’s pink) and pastel. Can’t you believe I fricking coo at the sight of couple of pastel colored hijabs, arranged by color gradation- in my mum’s room. It’s crazy. And I have a thing for strawberry milk. Everything that reminds me of Haz; everything soft, pink, and pastel drives me nuts. Damn you Wankerville. (Bursting out laughter).

It’s a sweet sweet tiring sweet fic. I just have to write something about it I have to. I’m out there, promoting. I owe it to Wankerville. Omfg I just choked on my drink! Hahaha. Funny how one of my friends replied to my tweet regarding strawberry milk fic, he was like; what even is strawberry milk fic? (Idk maybe he thought it was a movement or competition or some sort cos he’s that guy) and I literally laughed for hours. I was like, oh goody, are you mentally and physically ready for this talk? Where do I begin? And I couldn’t help but roll my eyes and whisper “muggle”. Lol.
All the love. 

Peace out. 


Playlist 10; survive September.

5 Seconds of Summer – Broken Pieces

Bea Miller – Fire n Gold 

Boyce Avenue – Beautiful Soul (cover)

Cam – Burning House

Disclosure ft. Sam Smith – Omen 

Ellie Goulding – On My Mind 

Pentatonix – Cheerleader (cover)

Meghan Trainor – No Good For You

MIKA – Good Guys 

Miranda Lambert – Monochromatic 

One Direction – Infinity 

The Maine – Am I Pretty?

The Maine – Diet Soda Society

Troye Sivan – FOOLS 


Where have all the good guys gone?

I hate bold, upfront people. I hate them with all my heart. Screw honesty is the best policy. Honesty hurts you like bitch. You don’t want people to be honest with you, you just don’t. I’d rather have people lie to my face, than being given snide remarks about, well, anything in my life that I don’t wanna dwell about. I hate people who mindlessly love to blurt out anything that goes in their stupid stupid stupid heads. Like it’s just a harmless hello. I hate people who don’t have the decency to think before they speak. Like, few words can easily affect somebody’s mood for days, even life. What’s the point of commenting out loud anyway? Like what you could possibly get from stating the obvious? What could you possibly achieve? Is it even relevant to you and your shitty life? I can’t quite grasp the concept. I’m fine with people talking behind my back, gossiping about disgusting things they have in mind I don’t give a fuck. But when they say it upfront, I lose my chill. What would it take to just shut their petty mouths up and save it later when the subject’s not around? ‘Snot about being over-sensitive and having soft heart. It’s about manner. That people nowadays seem to left out. 

I was so amused at H the other day when I looked at an old interview with sugarscape. The interviewer was super gesticulative. And in the end of the interview L seemed to notice and confront the girl. At first she looked flustered and a bit embarrassed I could tell, then she smiled and went like, “Yeah I’m gesticulative,” without warning H saved the girl’s day saying, “You’re very expressive, I like that. I like that. Good for you, good for you.” He looked at her dead in the eyes and went super serious. It was like he made sure that the girl wouldn’t feel offended, that she’s feeling okay, and he was genuinely trying to make her comfortable being who she really was. Same thing goes in every concert. Every little words he gives out like, pick someone who’s supportive, do whatever makes you happy, all to make us feel good about ourselves. And Ash too! He’s very appreciative. Majority of their fans have issues so they know better than to make stupid jokes or comments. Does it hurt to make people feel good about themselves? It doesn’t take too much effort I’m sure. You either say something good or you kindly keep your mouth shut and save it for later. And no, there’s no in between. Cos not all people are blind to their flaws, some of them might already hate themselves to death. Not all people love being pointed at their weakness. Not all people believe that by being criticized they’ll have the biggest epiphany ever, rise and get better. What if it crashes their lives and makes ’em feel smaller and fucked up? People never thought about that ha! People would say that it’s on the ones who get carried away, who put everything in their hearts and unable to let go. I’d say it’s on people who don’t know when and where to shut up, and have no boundaries, and really need to learn to keep things to themselves. Some people may not realize what’s going on, like, their default setting is just to spill. How convenient.

Anyway I hope someday you get to know how fucked up it feels being in someone else’s shoes, constantly being reminded that you’re not good enough no matter how hard you try. Constantly feeling like you’re worthless, yet have to put smile on your fucking face just so people won’t call you over-sensitive. And have to be worried about looking for new subjects, anything, driving the convos to any way other than their stupid jokes and snide remarks. I hope you enjoy making other people’s life miserable cos someday it’ll all get back to you. 

Harm’s done. 

All the love. 




So many fangirl stuff happening and it’s hard to wrap my head around each of them. Like I haven’t had a chance to properly talk about the new tracks 5SOS released, my woman crush; Halsey, Troye Sivan’s new EP – WILD, my potentially new favorite country artist Cam, etcetera. Also there’s this Derpcon 2.0 sets to happen on Halloween. They plan on flying out people from across the world to Atlanta can you frickin believe that. It’s sad, knowing that I neither have the chance to win nor the time to sacrifice for this competition. I mean I can go all out and surprise everyone if I want to, but even if I win (and the probability is ridiculous) I don’t have the luxury to take 3 days off from this so-called clinical round. So in a way, this New Broken Scene is irrelevant to me. 

5SOS new tracks. Right. I’m really pleased that they manage to keep their promises and make lyrically-deep songs. Not Lorde-deep but it’s deep enough to make me wail. The most heartbreaking of all is probably The Girl Who Cried Wolf. The part where Mikey belts out “Is anyone there at all?” repeatedly, desperately, just wrecks my heart and makes me want to shelter him from all madness in the world. It gives me the sort of feeling I have when I listen to Close As Strangers? The desperation and all that. It’s about a girl and her push & pull bullshit I think? The tears she sheds is somehow fake and it leaves the boy wonders in misery if it’s really there at all? Moving on, my second favorite would probably be Jet Black Heart. It’s dark. And pure sadness. But in the end it has a hint of positivity. Like, no matter how fucked up they both are there’s always something chemically connecting them. It’s there, they just have to find it and make up for the lost time. It’s a long shot but still worth the fight. Omg look at me rambling. Safety Pin. Catchy catchy catchy tune. I hate how jealous I am towards the lyrics yet can’t keep myself from singing along to every word whenever it’s on. I’m 99,878% sure that Ashton wrote this piece? Broken boy meets broken girl? Two wrongs make a right? These scream out Ashton and his new relationship. Idk I always think that Ashton tends to think that he’s broken and he finally finds his fix in Bryana. Tell me not to be jealous. Not by Bryana duh (I’m not one of those fangirls who truly believe they have a shot with their faves. I’m not judging/crashing someone else’s dreams. I’m just being realistic. And I have low self-esteem). I’m jealous of their relationship. Like, you know you’re broken, twisted, yet you’re lucky enough to find someone as broken as you are and manage to make it all feels better. And bearable. 

Broken Pieces. Another catchy piece. I love how 5SOS work on the guitar and drum stuff in several parts of the song that make it lingers in your brains and ears for quite some time. Like in Broken Pieces the part would be the guitar riffs before the verse. Right before they scream out “OH tell me what we’re fighting for..” And the build-up part in Calum’s solo after the second verse is just woah. The line “I’ll find a way to fix these broken pieces and let go” is on every surface of my note book. Idk I’m quite fond of those words. Like a reassurance that I will let go. I just need the time to fix myself first. Cos you know, it’s really not nice to be called clingy. Or baper. Ha. Another new song from 5SOS; Lost In Reality, sounds a lot like a song ATL would make. I wouldn’t be surprised if ATL co-wrote this one. The “Hey hey Hailey won’t you save me?” part is still 5SOS-ish though. 

Hayley’s Badlands album! It puts me in the same state of mind as Troye’s EP – WILD. They both have this hypnotic voice, that’s able to lure you, pull you in and suddenly you’re high! I’ve never thought songs could make you high. I’m dead serious. Halsey is my woman crush. She’s like super cool and strong and idk she kinda reminds me of Nikita from the series Nikita. My favorite tracks from Badlands would be Castle (the melody, it cuts in the right places, oh my dear God, I have eargasm), Colors (totally in love with the colors reference), Colors pt. II (super Port Blue-ish and it makes me emotional), Drive (I can totally relate to the lyrics, although I didn’t get that far). 

Troye troye troye my little ball of fur. He’s just so adorable, look at the EP cover! I’m in love! Totally adore WILD and FOOLS (super beautifully written). Kinda feel bad for the kids at the WILD music video tho. I mean kids are innocent, isn’t it a bit too much to put them in such scene? I know they probably didn’t know the whole idea of the MV, like they’re probably just told to play around and stuff but still… 

Fics! Ah I came across 2 amazing fics this week. They’re called I’ll Crash Until You Notice Me, and Panama. ICUYNM is escapade-like. Lou’s a multi-millionaire gentleman who owns a resort in Barbados, and Haz happens to be one of his charming employee. It’s light. Conflict-free. Has lots of typical Haz and Lou banter, plus good enough smut. I am a sucker for fics that have good HL banter! Make em feel more realistic. Another one is called Panama. It’s a flight attendant AU, where Lou is the head of the crew and Haz is the new guy he has to train. It’s super cute! The writer really gives out detail about flight attendants jobs, the airports, planes, even some places in the country they’re in. I love detailed writers. Prove that they’ve mastered the subject, that they have made long thorough research and I very much appreciate that. They still can’t beat the way Escapade and All About Us get to me though. But those are few nice pieces and I’m very entertained.

Anyway. I’m still patiently waiting for 5SOS album. And 1D’s fifth -and probably last album. Come to think of it, management has done a great job of tearing the fans bit by bit. Like they’re preparing us for the big break-up? Making sure there’s no one left so the boys won’t have any reason to re-group and make a come-back? First they made us hate on Zayn for leaving the band, now we’re cornering Liam for his solo interview and the stuff he talked about in certain LGBT magz. Won’t be surprised if the baby gate rumor start going up again. It’s working. On me anyway. Idk. Sometimes I tell myself that I’m too old for this crap but then I find myself lurking on twitter late late at night, reading every conspiracy theory that’s there. It’s hard to imagine me giving up my socmed accounts tho. I want to be a cool mom, like, even when I’m in my 30s I still know what’s up and not. I used to think that it would somehow reduce as I grew up -the need to fangirl. And I was totally wrong. 

Oh life. 



I’m a paradox.

I want to be happy but I keep thinking about things that make me sad.

I’m lazy, yet ambitious.

I hate myself but I also love who I am.

I crave for attention but reject it when it comes my way.

I’m a conflicted contradiction.

It’s kind of hard to figure myself out.

But I hope someday, some miraculous way, someone will. 


Side notes; things I observe.

Regardless of how negative my last post sounds, I really learned a lot in this department. I came to some realizations and such. Nope, not study related. I just love observing things that’s happening inside the ward itself. And I love observing the parents the most. There’s this patient called E with hydrocephalus, pneumonia, sepsis, respiratory failure, and God knows what else, that’s been inside UPI (intensive care unit) for quiet some time. She’s only 2 and I’ve watched her being intubated, put on ventilator and stuff. Her parents, I can tell that they’re young. But I love seeing them putting strong face, working together to take care of their only child. I love their routine. They take turn just like we-DM do. In the morning the dad will come along, smile so big my heart hurts, talk to E as if she could hear and understand him, give her face few gent strokes, bid her goodbye, then off to work he goes. Her mum begins the day by changing her diaper, bathing her, putting some moisturizer on her, reciting Qur’an on each step of the work, you know, like singing it to her, in a way. And when E’s nice and clean she’ll sit beside the bed and start talking, like real talk, like asking her how’s her day been, telling her to be strong and that her mum and dad are always around. And in the afternoon the dad takes turn. And he does pretty much the same thing. Watching his kid fighting for life yet still manage to try and talk to her like it’s all just a regular sunny day. No matter how hard I try, I always fail to play my empathy card on. My heart crumbles as I watch this kind of scene. 

Tough parents are my weakness. They practically watch their kids being put into scary procedure, they hear their kids screaming and crying for help, in pain, yet they have to counter all the urge to just grab them, leave the place and hug the pain away. They wish the could hug the pain away. They have to let their kids being woken up in the middle of the night for something as worthless as vital sign and work hard to put them back to sleep again. No matter how grim the prognosis look, they can’t fall off. Yet. And that’s heartbreaking you know, being strong when you least feel like it. I remember there was this dad in the emergency room, hugging his daughter tight, comforting her as the nurse tried to draw some blood off her. He then whispered, “It’s okay don’t look, don’t look, it’s only a minute away. Sorry daddy’s not a doctor. I’m sorry...” And he looked genuinely sorry that he wasn’t a doctor. Like all of her suffering was all because he wasn’t smart enough to be a doctor and fix his own child.

 God, did I cry…

The way they give out empty promises is also interesting thing to observe. In seriously ill patients usually the parents will start making empty promises like taking their kids to see robots, dinos; basically taking them to places, promising them that they could eat as many candy as they please, all those in one condition; they have to get better, or at least open their eyes. These empty promises, they hold onto ’em so tight. Like it’s the last line, the only thing that keeps them from giving up. They’re scared. The more impossible the promise goes, the more they hold onto it, because deep inside they’re looking for miracles, anything. Like the only purpose they have is to keep being strong and go on with life cause what if their kids wake up? They have promises to fulfill.

I learned to be eternally grateful. Out of lots of awful things that could possibly happen, from the moment of conception, intrauterine-growth, up until the day I was born, I thank the God above that I was normal. You look at these poor kids and then it’d dawn on you that you should be grateful. You have four complete limbs, properly working lungs, even well-shaped skull to cover your brain, mostly, you have amazing parents who love you dearly. There was this 17 yo girl who accidentally got pregnant and refused to even take a little peek at her kid right after he was born. Her husband –if that– was nowhere to be seen. Said she didn’t know his whereabouts and that she didn’t care. I was like are you for real? Any mother would kill for a chance to hold her baby as soon as humanly possible. They probably wouldn’t care if they’re bleeding to death down there. Speaking of bleeding and giving birth, it really is a scary thing to witness. Med-student’s logic aside, I honestly didn’t think that it was possible to get a baby out from down under. I mean theoretically it’s possible but seeing it with your own eyes is just wow. It’s such a priceless experience. Few moms need hours to push the baby out, til their faces turn red and they run out of breath, the baby won’t budge. But there’s also a few who manage to get it out in one go. Easy as breathing. I was like whaaat?

I also learned to appreciate home and my mum even more. Whenever I came home from night shift duty I’d hug my mum and spent hours of sleep on my mum’s room. Then I’d wake up to twilight sky and the good good smell of my mum’s cooking. I’d drag my heavy limbs to the dining room and felt my eyes water as I watched a table of feast in front of me. It gave -and still gives me the warmest feeling in the world, you know, coming home. At that moment I made a promise to myself to do whatever it takes to make my future kids feel the same way I did. Such a sap I know. Like I previously stated, Pediatric department gave me uneasy feeling. It’s not home at all. That’s why coming home was one of the things that I looked forward to every day. 


I really want to post medical-stuff-related topics like normal medstudents do if they ever have blogs. But I just. Can’t. I’m more amused by the bedside stories. Stories that you’d discover only if you observed nicely. And quietly. 

God knows I wouldn’t take it for granted.