A Curious Case of Fondness.

Dearest Reader,

Is fondness a crime? Is it an emotion which can only describe as superficial and has no deep meaningfulness? I ask these questions because what I’ve noticed with typical social interactions is this: people are keen on the fondness but not on the attachment that naturally develops from it. They want the thrill of the chase, the excitement of breathlessness, and the rush of adrenaline, but ultimately – when the time calls for it – they are frightened by the thought of intimacy and deep connection. Is it just me? Or is there truth to this revelation?

In a way, I hope I am profoundly wrong. I wish that this observation is merely skewed from the odd chance that I’ve not had a decent sample size to adequately conclude this fact. But, mainly, the reason why I wish I am profoundly wrong is that of a curious case of fondness with a brown-eyed girl. She excites me, she makes me wonder, and I cannot get enough of her.

It feels weird writing about a person. I feel like I am invading a space which I am not in the position to invade. But what I see and what I feel has to be penned. I have to articulate this person’s immaculacy: her personality, her appearance, her movements and her charm. It is intoxicating. I adore it.

Intrigued to go on a quick tangent, I have realised that whenever I pen something down, I tell the story in a very extravagant way. I articulate my thoughts incredibly vividly and opt to be grandeur. This is primarily due to my systemic blessing/curse of being a romantic. I thrive in the adoration, the splendour, and the romantics. Being able to look deeply into a person’s eyes just to tell them how incredibly beautiful they are fills me with incredible joy.

Back to the main point.

Sitting here in a cafe at my local mall, thinking about this brown-eyed girl makes me reflect on why I am here. Why have I sat in this place for nearly an hour and a half writing about her? I think it’s partly infatuation and partly foolishness. I’ve sat here because I do like her and am keen on penning my thoughts about her, but I ultimately don’t know if she thinks about me.

I feel like, with the right person, this quality of hope and admiration will allow us to both flourish. We’d always look for each other and always desire to get to know one another. I personally think that this quality is a beautiful one, if only for the right person. As of right now, however, I am yet to figure this one out.

And it’s slightly painful.




Dearest Reader,

Stubbornness. What does that mean to you? To most, it is the inability to give in or to change one’s mind about something. Well, I, Dewitt Valentino, am stubborn, but not in the way that you think. I am stubborn in that I refuse to stop learning and improving. I choose to choose, and if it is a mistake then I learn from it – and I think this is a brilliant kind of stubbornness.

To elaborate, each and every year I intrinsically look into my personality. I identify what has been of benefit, what has been of detriment and what needs improving. Based on this, I – sometimes – completely re-refine my personality. I break down what has caused me pain and transmogrify it into something that I believe will be more efficient and effective. People often tell me this way of change is an example of being driven. Well, yes, it is, but then again I am driven to improving my personality.

2017 is another year where I create another version of myself for the better. 2016 was… alright, but it can definitely be improved. What does your 2017 version of you look like? At the end of the day, it’s your choice to climb up in life or down.



Dearest Reader,

Rummaging through what can only be described as an organised chaos – my room, I was struck by a moment of pure reflective delight. As I sorted through many inanimate objects like CDs, old papers, computer parts, and other ‘fun’ things – as I once described them, I realised that these things, which once had some significant value, had lost their worth. I looked at them individually, searching through my memories to find exactly the moment where they did have value. And it was interesting. These things which were now worthless to me served a vital purpose during their time. They enabled me to achieve, to learn, and to excel, and without them, I couldn’t be where I am today. I was very thankful for the, now, worthless objects.

Reflecting on how this impacts me today, I was struck with this important truth. Everything has their purpose and their design. Sometimes things, much like the objects I was sifting through, was meant only to serve you at one precise moment and then become obsolete. It doesn’t mean that that object is no lesser important than the ones which serve a longer purpose, no, it just means that its design and use is different to that of the other object.

What scares me, though, is this: this doesn’t apply to only things, it also applies to everything – people. Some people are only there for a brief moment, but what they achieve and how they enable another person is part of their design. I don’t mean to make people seem disposable, but rather I want to accept that not everyone will be there at the end. People are ultimately that: people. They aren’t inanimate objects which often gets left on a tabletop. They are living, breathing, human beings who are also trying to live a life worth living.

In the end, as I finished rummaging through the stuff in my room, I realised that I am happy for everyone. I am thankful for the people who have bought into my life and for the people who were passing by. Both are equally important, as it is not necessarily only the people who stay with you who push you to your limits, sometimes it’s the people who don’t who do.


Falling Leaf.

Dearest Reader,

Have you ever wondered about how many individual moments happen as a single leaf float down from the tree it came from? Millions – no, billions – of people walk, hug, kiss and live as that single leaf float through the air. I wondered about this today. I wondered, as the person who I desired to care for walked away from me on the green hillside of my university, how many individual moments occurred in that same little amount of time. I was left with an emotion that is all too familiar that it felt ordinary, and was left essentially breathless. She asked me if I was okay, but what could I say apart from the all-too-typical “of course” as I felt emotionally torn. It’s been one hell of a morning.

Why am I writing about this experience? It’s quite simple. Before ‘her’ I told myself that this would be the last time I pursue a girl until I finished my studies. It would be a voluntary restriction on myself for two years, to focus, to endeavour, and to achieve. And so it is. As she walked away from me, and as I stared blankly at her vague direction I understood that within that momentary brokenness I knew what that meant and I knew what I had to do.

Many things in life don’t work in the way that you hope for, and that’s okay. I know better than to sulk in defeat. My head is raised high; I’ve stood up, and am walking. I don’t quite know where this road of life is heading… but that’s, I guess, part of the fun.


Above The Clouds.

Dearest Reader,

When a problem comes up in anyone’s life, it always seems to be upfront, confronting, intimidating and overwhelming. The moment takes over the person’s life, and in that time nothing seems to offer aid or relief. Whether that occurrence is minor in nature or is extravagant, it always just seems to take centre stage.

Flying above the clouds, as I travelled to Sydney, placed things in an odd perspective. I looked out from the window of my plane and beneath me was the beautiful suburbs of Sydney. On the tiny roads are tiny cars, and although they are probably moving at speed up to one hundred kilometers per hour, to me, it seemed like they were not making any progress at all. Isn’t it interesting that from way up there it seems like the normalities of life has vanished? You cannot see the stress that people are in as they probably frantically drove to work, or the parent who’s exhausted from taking care of their newborn that morning. Now, to be clear, what I’m not saying is to ignore it and be completely oblivious to these happenings, no. What I am saying is that perhaps it would be wise to acknowledge that in the bigger scheme of things we are not alone. We aren’t the only ones struggling, we’re not the only ones hurting and we aren’t the only ones pushing towards a better and happier life. Given this, then, it also means we aren’t entitled to feel anything owed to us when we go through these hardships, for if we are to feel entitled it signals that we’ve burdened more than everyone else – and we know that is false.

As I sit on this table, overlooking the Three Sisters at the Blue Mountains in Sydney, I am reminded of this truth. I’ve been blessed to have experienced a lot in my life. Many of those have been hardships and complete melancholy but a good chunk of it has also been with laughter and love. It is an odd thing to be thinking about these things whilst travelling – and more so to write about it – but the more I remind myself of this truth the better I know I will be in the future.


Silver Medalist.

Dearest Reader,

Perhaps the most curious attribute I have, which I often ponder about, is being a silver medalist. No, I don’t mean studies or work, for those areas of my life I’ve often achieved and excelled, but I do mean this for one particular area of my life: relationships. But before you make any assumptions – which is the lowest form of communication – let me start by mentioning that this is not limited to that of girls. I mean it for every relationship.

Being a silver medalist in relationships has had its toll on me. It’s begun to make me question how worthwhile I really am. Walking down the street, you see people often walking with other people, talking, laughing, and having a wonderful time. But here I am, walking in my own shadow, enjoying the little pleasures of life. What is it about these people that make them different? I don’t know.

What’s more confusing is that in most cases, and especially when new aquaintances meet me, people often compliment me on the way I present myself. They compliment me in my confidence, in my rapport building and in the way I carry myself. But, more often than not, in the same quick way I create these connections, I also lose them. People don’t stick, despite them apparently saying I am ‘one of a kind’ or ‘unique’, and I’ve learnt to live with that.

If I may sulk in a string of words, I’m exhausted. I’m exhausted primarily because I don’t understand. Friends want a person that is loyal and kind – traits that I cherish myself – and yet they don’t choose me, and ladies want honesty and love – more traits that I cherish myself – and yet they seem to always choose another. It’s frustrating that I have never felt how it is to be a gold medalist, a person who has won a person over purely because they see me as ‘the winner’, and I’m curious as to when I will have the privilege. Until then, however, I’m stuck in this predicament of choice: to build up a wall to protect myself from being hurt from being the constant silver and feel fine, or to continue this insanity which causes me to commonly feel a sense of melancholy by being second best – to be the alternative or backup.

I have no clue.



Dearest Reader,

When was the last time you saw the night sky in its full majesty? Perhaps not recently. Unfortunate. The night sky is a majesty of its own, and it holds many wonders, curiosities and beauties that, if pondered about, will undoubtedly incapacitate a person’s imagination. What does it feel like to freely traverse space? Or how would a human, who are confined by our physical limitations, could ever live on another planet’s surface? All of these thoughts are worthy of a ponder, yet most often the answer remains unknown.

I remember vividly one very particular moment where I gazed at the stars. I was at a dam and was lying on the cold, hard, concrete. Darkness surrounded me; no light interrupted my view of the majestic sky, and it was beautiful. I pondered upon the ideas I mentioned earlier as the radiant stars glistened and glowed in the endless sky. Smiling, I felt content and secure in being able to have a moment to bask in the loveliness of nature – despite the undeniable reality that, yes, I was alone.

I spent probably an hour in this gaze, admiring the view and feeling the calmness and the serenity of a cool breeze blowing through my clothes. For that moment I felt complete, and as I stood to return to my vehicle, I couldn’t help but stop to take one more gaze at the night sky. It was beautiful.

When was the last time you saw the night sky in its full majesty?