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Thursday, March 8, 2018

Making Dreams Reality

It's not even 10 am, but I was standing in the office kitchen munching on two mini chocolate bars, a couple handful of popped corn snack, some tortilla chips, and a cup of celery-potato soup.

The reason? I just got paid. My book royalty from Indonesia kicks in a few days ago, and I found out about it yesterday. In my true "first-things-first" style I did my day as usual, wrote an article to thank my readers, and seemingly cool about it.

This morning realization kicks in. People in Indonesia actually bought my book. They could have bought a meal for two, or internet/data quota for their social life. They could have bought two movie tickets or a cup of very, very fancy coffee. Nope. They choose to buy my book.

It's not even an easy book to read. It was a self-improvement book that talks about getting yourself together after you got cheated on. It was a book that none of you wish to read. It's a good book, just a difficult topic.

But it happened. So far I have 1200+ followers on Instagram. 1,800+ followers on my personal Facebook account. 1000+ followers on the Facebook page for my blog. Over 3 million hit on my blog. And some 300 people bought my book.

Oh yes, and around this time last year when my face was pretty much plastered all over the internet as the mascot/face of scorned wife cheated by the husband. My viral article last year opened the floodgate and established that cheating is never right.

How big is this? Humongous. I am not a beautiful socialite. I am not globe-trotting nor telling stories of exotic and faraway places. I don't write dreams or pretty words; I write reality, which is always difficult to swallow. Yet here I am.

So there is room in this world after all, for quirky thoughts and rambling mind, for calls of hope and shared emotions. There is room for trust and encouragements, for kind words and unfaltering faith. For human to be human.

And if the fact that my writing is well accepted by other people is already groundbreaking, imagine how I feel receiving messages, even long after that viral article came out, on how I inspired them or how they too thrive to make the best of life.

Me. Seriously. Me. The problematic, nap-loving, IDGAF me. Are they mad?! Is it a wonder that I binge-eat at the pantry before 10 am? I feel like a dog that finally catches its tail and doesn't know what to do with life anymore.

Yet of course I know what to do. I am going to keep on writing. The goal from the start was always to connect people, to make my readers say, "My feeling exactly!" or "I did not know that, but now I know". And if I can reach just one person with my writing, it'll all be worth it.

Because the world is so big and frightening. Yet it is less so when you don't feel so alone, when you realize there are other people who shared your thoughts and even your fear. And it is always great to learn to love other people.

I texted my best friend this morning, "I did good, right?" He texted back: "Yes, you done good." I blushed hard and grinned happily. I guess, yeah. I did good.

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