"And the hardest part was letting go, not taking part."

You said it was your biggest dream.

You said it was your passion.

You said it wouldn't get any more perfect.

You got paid for writing; for meeting all kinds of people every day; for being the so-called fourth pillar of the state.

You had the coolest set of co-workers. The kind that make you miss the office after a few days of holiday.

You could express what you think, and have the entire nation read it. Even the world.

You had the power to change people's opinions.

At the same time, you got this adrenaline rush, this priceless "o-God-can-I-really-do-this" moments that was always worth it in the end, when you read your piece.

You have your name printed on a national newspaper. A few times, people went, "so glad to finally meet Putri Prameshwari in person." Heck, you received fan messages in Facebook.

You gotta admit those moments sent you to the moon.

On top of things, still, you wrote. You were living your dream of becoming a journalist.

So why would you throw it away?