Death to QR Code Menus

Imagine. You're just finished walking around the mall after looking at new shoes and accessories. You feel hungry. You and your family pointed at a nearby restaurant, reminding it's lunch time. You all walked in, sat on a table, and the waiter approached the table to give you menus. The images look appetizing, and you feel you're torn between choosing the steamy noodle meal or BBQ beef slices. You called the waiter and asked for his opinion between those two. He informed you of the two menus and you chose BBQ after a moment of consideration. He took your orders, confirmed them and said they would be ready in fifteen minutes. You thanked him and he bowed as he left your table.

If only, right? Instead of holding a menu book with its immersive pictures, the waiter handed you a piece of paper with the ever-increasingly familiar black-and-white grids. The darn QR code menus.

It was bothersome enough for me who spends everyday using my smartphone. Since the menu was in form of a .pdf file automatically saved to the device, my father had difficulty in locating the file in his smartphone. I had to try assisting him without being too invasive towards his phone. I re-downloaded the menu two times before we could open it, and even then it was too small for my father to see the whole menu clearly. Even I was getting disinterested to order anything.

Has this ever happened to you? What happened to the ultimate dining experience?

I don't want to sit here scrolling my phone straining my eyes to look at the small pictures in the digital menu, the file cluttered in my google drive for who knows how long. I want to be immersed in my dining experience. Just the foods and me (and whoever was eating with me).

Since the infamous Covid-19 pandemic period, restaurants seem to resort to switching their physical menu with QR code menu. I still like eating out, and I noticed in the many restaurants that I visit post-pandemic, those opting for QR code menus are divided into two types. First one is where the QR code only gives you the menu. This type of QR code only directs you to download a .pdf file of their menu, but you still have to call the waiters to order. The second type is where the QR code directs you to a website dedicated to their digital menu and you need to input the order directly through your phone, much like when you order UberEats or any type of food delivery service.

Now, I don't have any preference between the two. I would like both of them to just go extinct at this point, but they do come in different types of annoyance. Whichever kind the QR code menu we're talking about, ultimately the reason that I hate them is the inconvenience. Allow me to present several points of my argument here.

1. The menus aren't really optimized to phone viewing, and those that are, aren't as appetizing.

I've mentioned the two types of QR code menus. In restaurants like *some* sushi place I like to visit, they basically give us the un-printed version of their usually-physical menu. So instead of having the grand, big 'ol menu book with colored pages you can flip around to view the mouthwatering pictures, you have a lousy teeny tiny screen that you need to zoom in one by one to look at the topping.  

I would say this is a pretty time-consuming process, and not an exciting one at that. Unless you own an iPad, most times the items are too small to see clearly. Perhaps it's not too big of a deal if it's a place you like to frequent and you're already accustomed to the menu, and you have a regular order. Like in a *certain* sushi place, they recently shifted to the first type of QR code menu, but since I already know what I usually order, it's not as annoying. But the problem with this is then I'm doomed to repeat my usual orders, and there's no sense to explore other food because I'm already too lazy to scroll and zoom in on potential new favorites. 

There is also the second type of QR menu, which is akin to something you see in GoFood or UberEats. The menu is optimized for phone, because you order directly from your device. But I personally think this diminishes the experience of eating out. With this kind of menu it just feels like you're not dining outside your apartment. You don't really talk to the waiter, and it feels like you're not really expected to do so. Perhaps some people are okay with this change of not having to interact, but I feel like it's part of the charm of going out to eat.

2. "No-contact" safety? But you're already there!

One argument in favor for these QR code menus is the pandemic situation we all know have faced. Business owners are increasingly trying to appeal to more hygenic measures, such as cashless payment and contactless delivery. And now the QR code menu. Because they probably don't want our filthy hands on their physical, printed-out menu.

I don't know how to tell you this, but if you are eating out, you already risk yourself by going out, sitting on the assigned seat, out in the public. Looking back, I figured Covid-19 is transmitted airborne, so having removing your mask to eat out is far more risky. And if you're really a person who's concerned about hygiene, you would already accustomed to bring your own hand sanitizer, or own little bottle of soap to wash your hands?

3. Errors by customer's side.

Personal experience. I've once ordered via QR code where it directed me to the website to order on my smartphone. I was already tired enough that I didn't want to look at my tiny phone (I prefer one I can put in my pocket), but my family's lunch fate depended on me. I wouldn't possibly get my father or my mother to be the one ordering, right? So I explained what's on the (teeny tiny) menu, described the menu one by one, took their orders, and when I try to click the "submit" button, it just did nothing. I clicked and clicked. Nada. After several attempts and resetting my mobile data, I finally walked to the cashier and they inputted our orders manually. So much for automation, right.

Now, I could be just being an old grumpy hag in this case, but what if other errors happened? What if we ran out of mobile data? What if the menu refreshed itself and we had to re-input the orders? What if my parents wanted to eat there but their daughter wasn't there to help with order? What if their phone doesn't have a built-in QR code scanner? Would they still want to eat there, then?

What they have established by shifting the labor towards customer's side is basically adding more possibility to errors. For digitally inclined customers, perhaps this wouldn't be much of an issue. But they're saying to us that if we're not on our phone, they don't want our business.

4. Straight to system?

Perhaps another argument in favor is how the QR code menu adds convenience on behalf of the restaurant, particularly with the second type of QR menu. Because it inputs your order straight to their system. Possibly it's also to avoid human error in ordering, but personally I prefer the "repeating order" sequence from the waiter, as it feels more effective in confirming the order from both sides.

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I would add an example of a restaurant that I like to visit that had shifted to electronic ordering system but still not a hassle. Pizza Hut.

I've eaten at Pizza Hut many times post-pandemic, and I see they've implemented a decent mix of automation while not compromising the experience of eating out. They still give us physical menu, a couple pages of binded paper, still with yummy-looking images, clearly informed price included tax. We still had to call the waiter to order, but instead of paper and pen, they now input our orders in an assigned non-assuming smartphone. So the labor of "inputting order" is still ultimately by their side, and not ours. And there's still room for order modification, menu recommendation interaction, and repeating-order confirmation.

I think that's a good example, because if there's change in the ordering system, the trained waiters would be the most qualified to bridge between us customers and the management.

I would like to see opinions regarding why the QR code menu should persist. Sure, I am no restaurant owner, but as a customer who loves casual dining every once in a while, I would like to keep my experiences valuable, unbothered by the hindrance of smartphone-induced inconvenience. Sometimes you just don't buy a lot of mobile data package, you know. Sometimes you just want to enjoy your leisure time by eating out without getting distracted by your mobile phone. Sometimes you just want to disconnect for a bit.

I'm just wondering with the unpopularity of QR code menus, why are they still prevalent? Is it because we don't directly complain about it to the restaurant?

In the meantime, please bring physical menu back with all those mouthwatering images that make me want to buy them all. Make dining out great again.

Accountability

The narrative of writing one blog post per day is plenty exciting, but the execution isn't always so. The main problem would be that there is no accountability. Say that I accomplished one blog post per day for a week, then what? What difference does it make compared to, say, if I constantly post for a month?

In my ideal self there is the argument that writing everyday would help hone my skill as a writer, but there is no real proof as to how my skill improves. There is no standard set other than the amount of posts I create, and I might fall victim to the "quantity-over-quality" criterion. I can be putting out very boring posts but I wouldn't notice how boring it is because the standard is ultimately coming from myself - and who am I writing for? Precisely.

A few months back one of my friend and I embarked upon a mutual "accountability notes" journey. It's basically a shared diary in the form of a collaborative Google Docs file, where we both can write not just what happens on that day, but also whatever comes to mind. It was great for a while to kickstart the mood for writing, because there's the feeling that you're not alone or something akin to talking to a wall, but also there's variety in the pages as you're not the only contributor to the document.

Mostly I wrote about what happened in the day, or week, if I was too busy to write daily. There are also moments where I took class notes there, paraphrasing the business-language into my own rant-induced sentences. There wasn't any strings attached or agreement that we *have* to write there every day, or every week, or every month, but the existence of such document reminded me that I do have a place to write my rants other than this blog (If my blog looks like ramblefest already, just imagine what I write there).

The same cannot be said about this blog. So far I've been wondering who else is reading my blog other than my future self. Some friends here and there sometimes chat me up to let me know that they read my stuff (God bless y'all) and added their comments and discussion, and that's nice. But they don't come constantly, just like the stream of my writing. Maybe I do need to brush up on my writing discipline first before talking big about accountability, feedback, and such.

I've been thinking that I might need another thing like the "accountability notes" for my blog. I want to know whether there is a particular direction this blog is moving towards, or ideas of how I can improve my writing from an experienced mentor, or perhaps just something like a community that I can join. But you know me, I would still be selfish and write whatever I want to write, because that's ultimately the true nature of this blog. It's my own ramblefest. But maybe, just maybe, there is a platform where I can get ideas from here and there without being in a tight-knit commitment.

The Impostor

"Impostor syndrome is a psychological occurrence in which an individual doubts their skills, talents, or accomplishments and has a persistent internalized fear of being exposed as a fraud."

Impostor syndrome emphasized the definition upon skills, talents, and accomplishments, but I personally feel like my sense of impostor-ness (?) heavily resided on my identity.

I once had a job interview where the interviewer asked me "what do you think the ideal teacher is like?" (I was applying for a teaching job)  and "do you think you are that kind of teacher?". I responded accordingly and basically said no, I wasn't at all the ideal type of teacher that my standard set upon. Suffice to say I didn't get the job, but since then I kept asking myself about the ideal "me".

Who am I? What am I aiming for? Did I even want to teach for the rest of my life?

My first impression almost always subconsciously thought that everyone else knows what they're doing, and I'm the clueless sheep in this jungle of adulthood.

I met one cool person and I immediately put them on a pedestal. They mess up and that whole image is crumbling, in turn I no longer am fond of them. 

I always have this ideal image of someone else based on their identity role. Met a professor? Immediately my brain goes "whoa, what a genius!", which, of course not saying that it's wrong. But most times just because they're a genius doesn't mean they're perfect, you know. I learned rather recently that someone can be situated on a relatively high position, whether it's job or academia, and they're not always perfect.

We're only human, you know.

But there was a time when I was naive enough to divide the world between those "who knows what they're doing" adults and "who has zero clue of the world" misfits. And I used to lock myself in the latter box, finding solace in the echo chamber of emo jams. I used to think of those music as my friends, the sad lyrics and the words expressing their hollowness, since they resonate with me so much. "We don't belong" they chimed inbetween those pounding drums and guitar riffs.

I listened to those music on my Walkman during school lunch breaks. The white hijab covering the earphone wires from my ears to the phone on my chest pocket, world out, music in. If you asked me then what the ideal student is like, I would say it's totally someone like me. Achieving high grades, lots of friends, and... well, to me the ideal student just needs to get high grades. Overall that bar didn't cover more aspects like organizational skills, charisma and sports, but I did set high standard for one particular thing: grade. And I fulfilled that criteria without seemed like trying too much.

There are two takeaways from that moment: first, the standard itself is subjective and second, I was a very happy student.

I didn't even intend to be the achieving student from the start, but once I obtained straight As in my elementary school year, the momentum was established to keep moving towards that direction. And boy did I sprint without looking left and right. I was happy with myself particularly because I didn't see how I would be unhappy.

Looking back, I knew I did miss moments that make elementary school, middle school, and high school worthwhile. But I wasn't aware of those, so I was content. I remember that I got bullied by a particular boy during my elementary year, but I was so oblivious that I didn't even *know* I was bullied. I remember I missed out on the middle school after-graduation prom party (and basically my whole senior year) to attend a long quarantine for science olympiad, but I had good friends and academically achieving so it wasn't a big deal. Ignorance is bliss, ey?

High school times weren't even that memorable, only bits and pieces of memories and regret that I didn't pursue something other than academic. I figured that college times is where my sprint seemed to have passed the finish line and I had the moment of revelation as I take in what's surrounding me. The standards began to get higher - or should I say, broader?

What previously did not get under my radar began to manifest itself in front of me. Friendship. Romance. Communication. Interpersonal affairs that I wouldn't usually comprehend becoming hard to ignore. Hardships. Heartbreak. Feelings of insecurity and inadequacy.

I still had my weapon of high-grade exam score plutonium, but there was a sense of lost-ness. I no longer knew what I had to do, now that I'm at that stage. The accomplishments seemed futile (not trying to be ungrateful). Impostors' syndrome, now that I'm in the so-called nest of acadmic excellency.

Everyone seems to know what they're doing. Everyone seems to be doing great. Even if they're not, they still seem to have a sense of purpose, unlike me.

But little did I know that academic excellency does not equate perfection. Just because your classmate is a quantum mechanics prodigy, doesn't mean he can hold a conversation with you. Just because one of your colleagues is a great coder, doesn't mean he's not an asshole who wouldn't break your heart. Life began to take form in its imperfection, flawless foundation being wiped away.

During my post-grad study I've been encountering actual projects that make me realize that we're all ultimately humans. Professors also make mistakes. The important thing is how we learn from them. One of my friends told me that he found solace at the fact that even our supervisors (the PhD ones) are kinda winging it in their jobs. Projects are plenty and we only have 24 hours a day. Our brain needs energy and nourishment and refreshments. Helps are obviously needed.

It was recently that I learned to become human, to learn that others are human too. I found a... uh.... let's say, weakness of my own that is a struggle to treat, and my therapist told me to be more appreciative of myself. At first I was like, "what's there to appreciate?" since I wasn't as academically excellent as my past self. And that's exactly the problem. Do I have to be straight A student to love myself? The initial answer was "yes", but as I ponder the logic behind that answer, I knew that ultimately it's not right.

If you have to be a straight A student to love yourself, when is it going to end? What if I graduate and there is no longer straight As to gain? Would you stop loving yourself then? Or would you set yourself another high standard as a means to love yourself? The former happened to me. I stopped loving myself and it almost cost me my life. It was by surviving and moving forward that I found life only makes sense if you are kind to yourself, just like you would to others.

I learned that by allowing myself to sometimes get a C or B is how I can be truly free from the confine that my past self set for me. There was relief in knowing that the world does not end even if I failed one semester. And a little hint of sadness because I'm not the main protagonist of this life.

Maybe I can get a brighter glimpse of the future if I can keep being kind to myself. Reminding myself that just because I'm human and I'm prone to mistakes, doesn't mean that I don't deserve a job. Doesn't mean that I don't deserve a decent pay. Doesn't mean that I deserve to be a subject of abuse.

I must admit that my impostor syndrome is kicking in because I'm recently finished with my post-grad and now I'm looking for jobs. That one job interview would always ring inside me, "do you think you are the ideal kind of [human job]?"

I would have the answer ready by then.

Now What?

So. Uh. Long time no see.

It's been a while since I write here (deja vu right, I know). Things have been happening to me, and I've been happening to things. Some days are busier than others, and long story short, this blog hasn't really crossed my mind for quite a while.

It only occurs to me when everything cooled down. When the thesis defense ended. When the breathe of relief was sighed outside the fourth floor meeting room in Labtek XIX. When the last revision was sent. When the grade appeared on my academic transcript.

Now what?

It was supposed to be a breath of relief, but... in reality, there was numbness. To be frank, the numbness lasted longer than the joy. I was supposed to rejoice. Happy that it passed. But... not really. I mean, surely I was glad, but not *that* glad, you know?

It seemed like it happened too sudden. I felt like I could do better.

But that's just always my problem, isn't it? That feeling of constant inadequacy disguised as "perfectionism" or "idealism". Or perhaps those are also real, mixed and jumbled inside me to form a bundle of emotion I can't quite pinpoint.

Now what?

I don't really know what kind of answer I'm looking for right now. Is it the "what-is-next-for-me" type of "now-what" or "what-does-my-research-contribute-to" type? I suppose it's the former, because after all I am now emerging to the outside world, beyond the boundary of systematic academia world. Perhaps I could pursue more of those, but is it what I really need right now?

It's been almost two weeks since I began waking up wondering in the morning. It's a whiplash from the usual busy routine. Waking up without a sense of purpose is... familiar. It's what my past self had encountered for months, before the second academia phase kicked in. It's... not great. I mean, stressed out every day working on your thesis is unhealthy too, but it's a different ballpark when we talk about sense of purpose.

I have a lot of interests. A lot of things I want to do. But they're not specifically long-term. Only bits and pieces of activities that can be done in spare time. Or even, things that can occupy my spare time nicely. Such as writing a blog post like this.

I have ideas of what I want to write. To create. I think it's always been my calling. Whenever I'm left on my own, it always pops up on my mind. To write. To document the present so the future knows what's in the past. I just wish I can expand that intention towards something bigger than myself. So I'm not only writing for my selfish self. So that it contributes to something to someone else.

But I'm a simple girl. As long as there is one person appreciating my writing, I think I'll be content. I think that's the main reason I never intend to capitalize on my writing, because I never want to try to appease the market. I just want to write according to my selfish intention.

I want to write about A Thing purely because I'm interested in The Thing. If there is one other person who also likes The Thing and we can connect because of that, then that's cool! But otherwise, I would be making a billboard for myself. Advertising my past ideas to my future self.

So to answer the question "Now what?" I think I might say.... it's writing. It always has been.

But First, Writing

I just got out of a tormenting approximately three-days illness. My stomach hurt so bad that it gave me fever, vomits, stings, and acute diarrhea. I never properly got diagnosed, but through home medicine I managed to crawl out of the rut. I was in a pretty bad shape during that time, that I didn't get anything remotely productive done. And when you're even too weak to muster your strength to do the usual daily time-waster of mindlessly scrolling through your phone, yet too awake to be resting, you resort to something horrible.

You begin to think. You are, then, alone with your thoughts only.

For me, that's the case. Of course it's not something real original or groundbreaking or anything. It's just... I begin to contemplate? When sickness strips you out of your strengths and daily routine, what's the first thing on your mind? What do you regret leaving when you're laying on your bed? What if that acid reflux is your final boon? Will you be able to go peacefully? Dramatic, I know. Can't help myself.

With that kind of sickness, my body practically refused to *desire* any kind of delicacy that I generally would crave. Not donuts, not sushi, not pizza, not baked alaska, not lasagna. Nothing. I wouldn't want *anything* to eat. Even the thought of eating hurt. So with such a basic, worldly hungering out of the picture, I begin to wonder, what matters then?

I think I spend my daily life around the routine of "eating", which is totally fine, of course, we need nutrition, right. But to me, personally, I find it rather... bothersome, I must say. Sure, there are plenty of foods that are great, but they are rather expensive to cost daily. I can't cook, and my mediocre attempts would result in at least mildly edible that took me an hour to make, 10 minutes to eat, and at least extra 15 minutes to wash the dishes. Alternatively, if I were to order food delivery, there's still the matter of picking what to eat, compromising what I want with my budget, choosing mixes of wanting this beverage with that dish, hunting merchants with promotion codes, etc etc. Summed up, mostly they take more time and chances are I got even more frustrated. My optimism in cooking is that I would gradually learn how to do things properly and my skill can improve to cook things more efficiently.

Anyway, as I was laying on my bed, weak and disempowered, stripped out of my worldly distractions (food and internet basically), I began to miss... writing, oddly enough?

I wanted to etch another one or two sentences to prove my existence. To convey what I was going through. What's in my head as I lie there with no other medium of entertainment. What inspiration that particular Wednesday brought upon my mind. Anything. I didn't even thought of the petty idea of "who's going to read it", or whom is this going to prove to. I just felt like I *need* to do it. Even something as horrifically ramblish like this, like I always did, I miss it.

Where did it go wrong, anyway? When did writing become something that I just *not* do?

What's stopping me from typing out another pointless observation in my blog? Is it fear? Is it procrastination? Is it distraction? Is it contentment? Feeling of obsolete and meaninglessnes? No time? Not a priority? No inspiration? Too busy? Too happy to contemplate?

Am I just asking the wrong questions, or seeking the wrong answers?

I'm just wondering where precisely the table turned, when exactly I lost my enthusiasm to communicate my layers of thought to.. well, to anyone who cares, actually. But I mostly write for myself, just so I can re-read the pieces and laugh at my younger self's naivety or something.

But of course I realize now, I need to find the answer. The underlying truth. So things can change for the better. Otherwise this will just be another cycle of "write-one-post-then-hiatus-one-year" and the essence of my writings will never evolve out of deep-ramblings.

I've been making an "aspiring writer" my internal identity for several years now, yet the "aspiring" part never truly peels off. Because no actual, strategical efforts have been made to pursue this track. Passion is admirable, surely, but it isn't really enough. Ideas without execution are subjects to be lost in the void. I can admit to everyone that I'm a "writer", but where's the proof? This lousy blog where I channel the energy of a middle-aged woman who regrets the loss of her lifelong dream due to an arranged marriage?

There's also the problem of the word "writer" being too broad. What I am aspiring to write as? Journalism? Script writer? Copywriter? Novel author? Fanfiction author? Lyricist? Poet? Academic literature? Webcomic plot writer? ..Blogger?

Would I be content with being a personal-stuff blogger for the rest of my life?

The short answer is probably no. That's why I'm having all this thought.

One hypothesis I have as to why I've been... obstructed in my writing is that I'm never held accountable for my writings. I'm not in a 'system' where I have to submit any form of progress, no deadlines to meet nor requirements to fulfill. Nobody's pointing a gun at me and demands "you have to write a whole damn novel draft by tomorrow or else". Nobody's going to get angry if I don't write. Nobody really expects anything much from me as a 'writer' (except for a few people who still read my blog and wait for my first novel break, I love you!!). That's kind of the problem. I lack the self-discipline and persistence by my own. 

I feel like I always need to be in a system that puts me to work. Yet, at the same time, I know I need the freedom and flexibility to make the creation 'my own'. This isn't a special case, I know, most of us have to deal with this contradiction.

Writing is hard, especially without the proper trigger. I could just follow the 10,000-hour rule. I could try and set a project goal of, say, write a romance fiction, and set daily task of writing 2 pages or write 2 hours each day. But I'm not necessarily a romance writer, so I would probably already burned out by my main job, inspiration doesn't pour easily, then I get frustrated because I end up writing nothing that day, then the next day I got discouraged because the previous day I didn't write anything. Then I would think "eh, what's the point" and the project got discarded altogether.

I know I said previously that "passion is admirable but not enough", but frankly, I found the energy-spike moments where I could write for 5 hours straight are better for my morale than setting myself up for 2-hours-per-day scheduled routine. Like now. Because there's nothing really at stake. If I suddenly get this burst of inspiration to write out of nowhere and finally come out with a piece, no matter how weird or pointless, it became a pleasant surprise. But if I spare 2 hours each day to write with the possibility of leaving that time slot discouraged, I feel like I would end up hating writing, so I'd... rather not do it. Is it fear or am I just a bad gambler?

The initial objective of this rant is actually to come up with something useful for me to actually start making writing my habit again. Be it through scheduled writing, entering a 'writing system', or setting up a distinct writing goal first. I realize this is not a systematic writing, just a rant to hopefully clear my head and inspire me to come up with something more specific and systematic outside the realm of this blogpost.

Sometimes I really envy people who can just... do it, you know. Do what they want to. Do what they need to. Don't have to ramble pages over pages of self-doubts and try to sell it as authentic "writing".

Signing off...

Boredom Devil

 I'd like to imagine that there's a demon living inside my room right now. Just because coming up with any external factor to blame is far easier than confronting the possibility that an internal struggle might be at play.

I call them the Boredom Demon.

For whatever reason, living inside the room feels very inertial. Seems like I would never have the energy to do anything, to come up with any ideas whatsoever. Back then, cooped up inside my dorm room, I could make the place mine. I was happy, I was content. But not anymore, not here.

Being alone here feels like a prison of mind. It's a difficult situation to describe, but despite all the comfortable features of the room, I could never make it my 'home'. My brain doesn't work, and it keeps screaming for me to get out of there, even though my body and all my senses are real content there.

It seems like a bad Feng Shui is at play there. 

Ridiculous, I know.

But I really need to blame my new room for everything. For the reason I'm constantly unsatisfied, uninspired, un-energized, unwilling, unhappy. Weird, I know. 

I feel like I have to make a total change of the room for it to make sense for my brain.

Right now I don't even have the strength to form a coherent passage, or even care whether this narrative make any sense whatsoever. I'm sorry.

Let Loose

Why can't gathering your thought be as simple or as obvious as picking up flowers from your neighbor's garden and arranging them in your empty can of soda by the backyard?

I'm not even that old, yet all I dream about is to be able to just sit there, staring at the sky while drinking a cup of cocoa rum. No thoughts, no regrets, just peace.

Sometimes I wonder if I've been taking things for granted. Sometimes I wonder if I've been postponing too much and decay too soon. Sometimes I wonder if only I can be swift in making decisions, in taking actions, in pursuing the present. Would things be different? Would I not decay this fast?

I can never tell these days. My thoughts are getting emotionally hollow. I practice mindfulness more, yet I feel less like myself more and more with each passing moments. 

I knew things, but now I just blindly grasp into the outline of their concept without actually know if I know. I understood things, but now they're just wisps of imagination that I heed no further attention with no interest at all. But I've always made that decision to look back and imagine things as better than whatever it is I'm facing in the present, and I wonder if this is the case at all.

Would there be a future where my present is the most precious moment that I can fully immerse myself in? And if there is, will I be able to write it down and remember?

There's really no words to describe how much I feel sorry for myself, sorry for every touch and resources I wasted into typing this nonsense. I don't even know what I want. Do I want to find myself? Do I want to go back to the good old times? Do I want to skip to the desirable, peaceful future I imagined? I don't know. All is jumbled.

It's not that I lost hope, per se. It's just lately I don't even want to unalive myself, because there's not even enough sorrowness to drown me in. Yet, I don't feel any hope either.

I just... want my brain back. Let me think. Let me live the pain, the laughter, the sadness, the love, the life.