Why Does Waiting Sometimes Feel Thrilling?

Why does waiting so often feel thrilling?

That what come across my mind now.

Well... Every human being has experienced waiting at some point—and many of us don’t like it. I’ve felt that unpleasant kind of waiting many times too.

Sometimes, waiting feels boring. We try to fill the time with activities like reading, scrolling through our phones, singing, observing our surroundings, sketch, or simply enjoying a cup of coffee. These things work well when the wait is short—just a few minutes or hours.

But what about waiting for something much longer?
A year… two years… maybe even a decade… or something with no clear timeline at all.

In those moments, maybe it’s better not to think of it as waiting. Because if you do, it can feel like you’re wasting your precious time. Instead, stay productive. Keep growing. Become the best version of yourself.

So, what does it mean to wait for a long time?

Take relationships, for example. Waiting for someone—hoping your boyfriend or girlfriend will eventually marry you—can be emotionally exhausting, especially when nothing is certain. Instead of holding on to uncertainty, keep living your life. Do what you love. Travel where ever you want. Move forward.

If you’re meant to be together, you will be.
And if not, that’s okay—because you didn’t waste your time. You filled it with meaningful experiences and personal growth.

But is waiting always unpleasant?

Not really.

Sometimes, waiting can actually feel beautiful.

Like waiting for iftar during Ramadan. I prepare takjil, and my heart feels full when I see my family enjoying the food I made—simple things like sweet drinks or snacks become special moments.

Or when I’m baking bread or a cake. Waiting in front of the oven, feeling a mix of excitement and impatience… wondering if it will turn out just right—not too burnt, not undercooked. And when the oven finally turns off, there’s that moment of truth—did it turn out perfect?

Those moments remind me that waiting can also be filled with joy, hope, and quiet excitement.

So, why am I writing this?

Because right now, I’m waiting for an announcement.

But surprisingly, I don’t feel anxious. I feel calm. Easy-going.
Because during this waiting, I’m still moving forward. I’m working, I’m growing, and even I went traveling to Europe. Why I'm this calm because I already have a clear roadmap for my future.

So whatever the result of that announcement may be, it won’t stop me. I’ll keep going. The path might change, but the destination remains.

Because in the end… life itself is a form of waiting.
A waiting filled with possibilities, opportunities, and meaning.

So stay enthusiastic.
Keep moving.
And make every moment of waiting worth it.
We should not waste time unless we really want to.

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Life Is a Gift 🌱

 

Life is a gift.

A gift we often take for granted—until we come close to losing it.

Life is a chance.

Yet many of us live as if we have endless chances… a second time, a third time, or even more.

Life is meant to be enjoyed.

We spend so much time chasing things—success, money, recognition—that we forget one simple truth:

in the end, we leave everything behind.

Life is an experience.

Every living being moves through its own journey, step by step, moment by moment.

Life is a lesson.

Learning doesn’t only happen in school. Life itself is the greatest teacher—through joy, pain, failure, and growth.

Life is short.

We often believe we have plenty of time, but the truth is… time is never enough.

Life is not a race.

Many people rush, compete, and try to win—but win what, exactly?

When everything we chase will eventually be left behind.

So with all of this in mind…

don’t waste your time.

You may only have one chance to experience this life.

So enjoy every moment, embrace every lesson, and live it fully.

Travel where ever you want to go.

Don’t wait.

Don’t hold back.

And most importantly—

Don’t regret.

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🌿 The Universe is Truly a Storyteller

I’ve always believed the universe speaks — not with words, but with whispers hidden in everything.

It tells stories through the wind that hums between leaves, the dust that dances in sunlight, the laughter that fades into quiet nights. It paints mysteries in the color of roses and writes poetry in the rhythm of water.

Every sound, every breath, every shimmer of light is a verse from a story older than any scripture.

And maybe that’s why I was born to write — not for fame, not even for readers, but to listen and translate what the world keeps trying to say.

For years I thought I was just wandering: joining clubs, studying languages, climbing mountains, walking alone on Malioboro Street. I thought I was lost. But I wasn’t. I was gathering stories. I was learning how to see beauty, how to understand silence, how to feel life beyond what can be measured.

And now I realize — nothing I did was useless. Every random choice, every strange detour, every “useless” hobby — they all formed a pattern.

The call wasn’t loud. It didn’t come from the sky.

It came softly, through my curiosity, my loneliness, and my hunger to understand meaning.

The world doesn’t need more noise; it needs more storytellers who remember how to listen.

Religion, to me, is one of those languages the universe uses.

But I’ve learned that faith and truth can’t be owned by one voice or one name. Some people study religion to build walls; I study it to open windows. I don’t need to be right — I just need to be real.

Because every soul is born with its own map toward the Divine. Some call Him God, some call Her Nature, some just feel It in the quiet of the night.

And that’s fine. The problem isn’t in what we believe — it’s in thinking we’re better than others for believing it.

This world doesn’t belong only to humans. It belongs to every creature that breathes, crawls, or blooms. Even dust, even death, plays its part in the balance.

We are guests here, not owners. Yet, the most greedy guest of all is us — humans who act as if they’ll never leave.

But still, I believe this:

Every creature has its food. Every heart has its path.

If God can feed the smallest invisible life, then surely He won’t forget the soul that keeps walking, searching, and creating.

And maybe, that’s all I am —

A storyteller who finally heard the whisper:

“Welcome home.”

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