Diary No.3 123116

Just got back from Ba Vì, a short vacation for the seniors of my school. I feel like I haven’t written anything true to my heart for a while.

In fact, I can’t even feel my heart anymore. I’m quite upset about that.

I want to cry,  I want to laugh. But there are so many blocks in the way, cutting the following stream of sensations.

It fills me with sexual desires, dark fantasies, insecurities and self-doubts. Just 2 weeks ago, I was bullet-proof from my head to my toe; now, I’m quite unstable, easily irritated. In short, i’m acting like an immature lil’ bitch.

But I’m not to worried though, I have plans.

All these mood swings come from the fact that my confidence is based on what other people think of me, not my actual self-esteem, or competence.

I want to raise my self-esteem through becoming competent in writing. I believe if I consistently hone my skilllset, those which I happened to have an aptitude for, I would truly be internally confident.




Diary no.2 (121916) 12h30 – 12h45

Like i said earlier, building an airpot is what i’m all about now, which means I’m giving my full attention to balance out my life: eating healthy, getting in shape. Basically I’m getting back to the most basic.


I have been alive for almost 18 years now. That’s almost 2 decades of mood swings, procasination, fluctuating academic perfomance. I blame it on myself for not having the right habits, personal rituals. I don’t want to rely on the variables anymore, it’s too luxurious now.

I want to be fixed, focus and on point for most of the time.

How am I doing it?

The most basic you could have ever thought of: I’m training myself to brush my teeth twice a day. I have kept my promise with Nhung for more than 2 weeks, which makes me immensely proud of myself. I’m brushing my teeth properly!

Next. Gym. I’m training myself 3 times a week now. Monday, Wednesday and Friday. Have got to be in shape for the mind to be sharp.

And about the sleep thing. It’s almost 1 AM, obviously I’m not doing my job.

Bye bye. I will brush my teeth and sleep now.

Diary no.1 (7:42-8:51) (121616)


Well fuck. I was going to write this fucking diary series in Vietnamese but the font fucked my eyes way too hard for me to endure, so still stuck in English. Please, if anyone knows how to write in Vietnamese and have a smooth-looking font, help me!

Hi there. It’s been a while, 2 and a half week to be exact. Right after the last post One Bad Day Away, something amazing, something one may call magical happened to me.


It gave me clarity on my doings. I knew what i wanted to do and how to do them. Then i was on fire, hustling through the day. Monday to Tuesday to Wednesday bla bla bla. I was so passionate, so innovative, so vibrant.

I was truly alive!

I was so full of self-awareness that future, past, present collided. Suddenly, like a dying man with his entire life flashing before his eyes, all the things that happened to me had a meaning. Each and every events are bricks, building my soul, shaping it with ups and downs. I could remember how intrigued I felt when I was 4 years old, in my uncle’s workshop, wondering if my head were cut open, would there be a hidden computer chip in that, controlling every emotions, thoughts of mine. Then I could see how in the far future, ten years, twenty years, I would be “preaching”, exchanging ideologies, universal truths, soul-searching kind of conversation. I have envisioned that before, like most people “thinking about success to be successful”, but this time it felt so real. Like I am there already.

I have new super-powers.

Walking around like a mofoking boss, grounded and confident, but no arrogant. But also I cried when I watch movies, I cried when I spoke from my heart, I cried listening to Kanye. I cried thinking about how fucked up others are and how lucky i am to be here and now. I felt like I was completed, I had jumped to the next level and things would keep getting better and better.

Then like Icarus, I flew to close to the sun. Got burnt. Finals came,  I stopped everything to focus on finishing it best I could.

The Passion runs out, the Love goes too. I did not do the best I could. Petty thoughts are sneaking up on me, with those sons of bitches come along low self-esteem, poor judgement, decrease in wit and the mental sharpness.

I’m quite apathetic and dirty (spiritually) now. I need emotional grooming.

I learnt a lesson. I’m not going to build some wings to fly to heaven; I’m building a fucking airport.

Stabilization. Momentum. Structure.