Sincerely, a pillow

“Tak kenal, maka tak sayang.”

In Indonesia, there is a well-known saying: “Tak kenal maka tak sayang.” Literally translated, it means “You can’t love what you don’t know.” This saying serves as a cultural reminder that connection begins with understanding. To truly trust someone’s voice, see their perspective, or appreciate their presence, you must first get to know them.

It’s a phrase I grew up hearing, but only recently began to fully understand. Especially now, as I take a step toward starting this blog.

For years, I’ve written privately—reflections, messy thoughts scribbled in notebooks or monologues recorded in my voice memos. But opening up to a broader audience? That’s something I’ve always hesitated to do. Because to share your voice publicly is to risk being misunderstood. And yet, here I am. Creating space not only to express, but to be seen.

So instead of starting with a formal introduction, I’d rather begin with a story. One that, in a way, helped me understand myself better, too.

Through Someone Else’s Eyes

It started as a lighthearted question, something I tossed into the air more out of curiosity than anything serious.
“If I were a non-living thing,” I asked my friend, “what would I be?”

She paused for a bit.
“A pillow,” she said.

I blinked.
“A pillow?” I echoed, half-laughing, half-curious.

She smiled and continued, “You’re soft, yet hard to break. You make people feel safe. If you were a decorative plate, you’d be beautiful and maybe even admired, but plates are fragile. They crack when they’re thrown. A pillow, on the other hand, can be thrown and remain soft. It continues to be there and offers support.”

At first, I laughed because it surprised me. As my curiosity grew, I asked another friend a different question.
“If I were a job, what would I be?”

“Something like a birth doula,” my friend suggested.

It was oddly specific. I had to google it because I wasn’t sure what a “birth doula” is. Unexpected. But as soon as she explained, it made a strange kind of sense.

“Because you’re steady,” she said. “You show up when things are uncertain. You don’t try to take over or fix things. You stay close, calm the room, and make people feel safe in the process.”

I didn’t say much in response, but I understood something important. It was one of those rare moments when someone points out something about you that you couldn’t explain yourself, and it suddenly becomes clear.

Here’s the soft crew that’s seen me through late-night thoughts and early-morning resets

Honestly, this blog might as well be co-written by them.

The Psychology of a Pillow (?)

Later, I found myself looking into the symbolism of pillows, partly out of curiosity, partly to understand why the metaphor felt so right.

Across cultures, pillows have long symbolised comfort, rest, and emotional protection. In dream psychology, they’re linked to the need for support, care, and inner peace. They’re soft objects, yes—but also trusted ones. We cry into pillows and lean on them when we’re most tired or overwhelmed. They’re not seen as strong, but they carry us anyway.

And in a strange but resonant way, that’s how I’ve often (or at least have been trying to) moved through the world. I’m not the loudest presence in the room. But I try my best to listen and absorb.

Not everyone notices what pillows do. But the people who need one? They know exactly how much it matters (wink wink).

Untangling a Noisy Mind

The truth is, my inner world is rarely quiet. My thoughts loop, question, second-guess. I spend a lot of time trying to untangle things—emotions, ideas, what-ifs.

To cope with that, I’ve developed quiet habits, such as songwriting, journaling, and poets that I never share. These rituals became my way of thinking out loud without anyone listening. A private method of processing that always felt safer than putting it into the world.

I’ve always been someone who holds space for others. But I’ve realised it’s just as important to create space for myself. And not just in the privacy of a notebook, but in public—even if only quietly.

So…

That’s why this blog exists. It’s not a self-help guide. It’s not a polished advice column.

It’s a reflective space. A thought journal. A place to make sense of things in the open.

Here, I’ll be exploring ideas around identity, emotion, culture, creativity, and the quiet chaos we all carry. Some entries may be abstract, while others are grounded in real moments. Always in progress.

If you’ve ever felt like a pillow, absorbing more than you show, then maybe this space will feel a little familiar.

Thank you for reading. Thank you for joining me at the beginning.

Sincerely,
a (aspiring) pillow