May 10, 2026
Today, I found myself reading a journal entry I wrote six years ago.
In those pages, a younger version of me was talking about a dream. A dream that today—at 32 years old—I still haven’t managed to achieve.
The number was specific: $133,000.
It wasn’t a number pulled out of thin air. I calculated it myself, inspired by Tony Robbins’ book Money Master the Game—a book I bought using money I earned from typing captchas on websites like Megatypers and Kolotibablo. I was paid in cryptocurrency, which I withdrew to an exchange called Bitcoin.co.id—the platform you now know as Indodax.
Yeah, the story goes back that far.
Before Tony Robbins, there were two other books that completely shifted my mindset: The Secret by Rhonda Byrne and The Alchemist by Paulo Coelho. I read both of them back in 2015—and I downloaded both illegally from the internet. To be fair, I was just a broke college student at the time. Pretty pathetic, I know.
But it was from those two books that I began to believe dreams could actually come true. I believed that the universe would conspire to help anyone who seriously pursued what Paulo Coelho called their Personal Legend.
I believed it. Completely. Maybe too completely.
In 2015, I started looking for ways to make money online. That’s how I discovered forex trading. I tried it. I failed. Not just once—but over and over again, right up to this day.
Haha.
In 2016, I found out about Bitcoin. I started investing. I set my target: financial independence at that $133,000 mark. Originally, I wanted to hit it by age 27. Then, I revised it to 29.
Now, I’m already 32.
That number is still miles away. It feels like a pipe dream—a phrase that perfectly describes the massive gap between what I imagined and what reality actually looks like.
I can’t even count how many times I’ve decided to throw in the towel.
Every time a trading account faced a margin call—I wanted to quit. Every time my investment portfolio suffered a floating loss—I wanted to quit. And given the current state of the Indonesian economy, even blue-chip stocks can break your spirit.
And whenever that happened, the feeling was always the same: despair. Feeling stupid. Incompetent. Feeling completely helpless.
But today, I am still breathing.
I am still conscious. I can still write this—even though just thinking clearly has felt quite difficult lately.
And in the middle of everything that feels so heavy, there is one tiny thing that is still burning. It’s not big—just like a small candle in a pitch-black room. But it’s lit.
That is enough.
That is why I am starting this blog today.
Langitsore—my fourth blog, after three failed attempts before this. This time, I’m not promising anything to you as a reader. No tips. No formulas for success. No sweet, neatly wrapped conclusions.
Just the notes of someone who has failed countless times, but still can’t seem to stop dreaming.
Welcome.