Sven Medyona Is My Nom de Plume

ASSALAMU`ALAIKUM WARAHMATULLAH
I'm the one with the black mug


It's four days to go before going back to my worldly home. Examinations, files compilations, tasks: I'd bid goodbye soon. Though, life throughout his semester was a bit hectic and congested will unresolved resolutions, I regret nothing. I've learnt something better than that of I hoped to.

The problem with blogging for me is that, I couldn't help myself from posting more and more. My fingers would tremble, my body will then sweat, as if I'm going to lose something. And everyone knows that's not the case: everyone can live without blog. But I beg to differ. "One does not simply leave his keyboards untouched. All days."

So, you might be wondering WTH did I do when I sort of, deactivated this blog. Well, to be honest and not, purely not bragging, I wrote short stories and articles. Philosophy as well as horror and daily live personal preoccupations. Life: there's so much to be worried about it, especially where it'll end. 

(going into it) 

It casts terror towards me, every time I have to look back into all the things that I have done with own two arms, and two eyes, two ears and this one, skinny body. Sincerely, I'm not feeling it right now, but at times, when I really feel near to God (after salah, dhikr, etc.) I really wanted just one thing: if my life brings about nothing good, much less bad things then it'd be sufficient for God to end it.

Sounds stereotypical, but what could I say? Rather than being destructive, being, supremely destructive, wouldn't it great to have one less terrorist? Some said, "You'll be meaningful one day Sven," and some others just don't give a damn. My existence is insignificant.

To change that, I usually liberate myself as being Promethean; and anarchist, if you may. Anarchist who relentlessly goes against the society that suffers prolonged blindness, long enough. As I speak, my messages are often pretentious so therefore, hitherto; you can say that I'm a sociopath. Attention, I seek.


(running back to the topic)

It is embedded in every human nature, I think, that enthusiasm of getting back home: the Promised Land.No matter how demonic you are, how diabolical yourself is, or how big the devilries you have done, you can't just run away from the <faint> sense of belonging by Someone. I hereby, am admitting that I feel that somewhat irresistible nature sometimes (when, again, I feel close to God). I kind of like that feeling.

And so, I pray to God that, no matter how my life would be, I hope that I'd die in husnul khatimah: the state of doing goodness. I wouldn't ask anything more. Amiinn...

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