End of Year Question

It's September now.

The time of year when the world will be gradually slowing down,

Slowly, slowly, it will come down to a halt.

When the air particles are no longer bouncing frantically against one another. 

The days will last longer, and the night comes slower.

Until it feels like time is frozen,

And the whole world becomes quieter.

And without you realizing, 

December is here.

Another chapter is closed.

Another phase has ended.

I am not sure what to say about me though. While (I am sure) you're going through everything with a full grip on your pen to write whatever you like on your paper, I am here completely at lost at how quick everything has happened and most of the time left dumbfounded, looking at what destiny has left in its wake and how, how, how much did I miss?

A question I am sure you are completely unfamiliar with. 

The case of June when it is ending

It's June. The rainy season has just stopped and technically everything has just been restarted as the holiday is just over and people are just returning to work again.

But.

Days feel like dragging on. Silence is hanging heavy in the air, as if moving in slow motion, blanketing everything around me. Time feels like suspended in the air. Unwilling to leave the damp rainy seasons and greet the dry season. 

Like me.

Unwilling to embrace the necessity, the factuality, the inevitability of change and the turning around of the earth. Trapped in a bubble of uncertainty, suspended in reluctant inertia of life and faith.

Such as the case of the end of June.

It is the beginning of a season, the beginning of everything, but God does it feels like a slow journey toward an end.

It feels like the final part of the song when the chorus is exhausted and overused and started to lose its meaning. When the life of the song slowly diminishing through a weak of repeated lines, over and over until the emotion that fuels their life is running out and echoes are all that's left.

That's how June ends.

Aku dan Kata-Kata

Dear B,

Ada ribuan kata tersangkut di sini, di dalam mulutku. Mendesak ingin berhamburan keluar, menerjang dan menghantam semua dinding-dinding tak terlihat yang berdiri kokoh di sekitarku. Ini adalah sebuah peperangan yang tak akan ada ujungnya, antara aku, dan kata-kata. Sebagaimana tak akan pernah pula berhenti peperangan antara kejujuran, dan ketidakjujuran. Aku tidak jujur. Kata-kata jujur. Maka kami tidak akan pernah akur.

Belum waktunya, begitu selalu kataku. Pada diriku, pada kata-kata itu.

Saat ini belum waktunya bagiku.

Belum waktunya untuk menuntut kepada entah siapa, akan hak atas hidupku.

Belum waktunya untuk menjajal dan menjadi bagian dari euphoria itu. Euphoria yang muncul dari keinginan untuk begitu mencintai jiwa sepenuhnya, memberinya ruang seluas dunia untuk bergerak dan bernafas dan hidup dan menghidupkan.

Belum waktunya bagiku, untuk memberikan ruang bagi diriku.

Dan kau tentu tahu persis kenapa.

Waktu masih terhenti di bagian bumi yang kupijak.

Dan kau tentu tahu persis kenapa.

Aku masih bergulat sendiri di sini, mengurai jalinan benang yang kubuat kusut bertahun lalu.

Meringue

Dear Blue, we are spreading the pink meringues on the paper tissue now. 

We are trying to get the chocolate ones but they were put at the bottom under the pink ones (and no one wants to try the pink ones, you know how it is, chocolates are far more appealing).

So here they are finally spread, all pinks, against the white paper tissue. They looked so cute, with all the tiny dots of red all over them. I love meringue. I always love the way they melt in my mouth.

Dear Blue, this is nothing but another nonsensical thought appears out of nowhere. You don’t have to read it. You’ll probably never read it. You might never even realize that it has been written and posted here, all these things about you. But if one day you read it, you don’t need to cringe or frown. And you don’t have to like meringues.

It’s just me. With another nonsensical thought appear out of nowhere. Yet even the most nonsense things seem to be triggering a thought of you.

Dear Blue, we are spreading the pink meringues on the paper tissue, and I suddenly wondered, do you actually like meringues too?

But again, it’s okay, you don’t have to like it. I was just wondering how you are doing now.

Every Morning

Every morning I’d wake up to a strange realization on how quiet it is inside my head. I’d spend the first few minutes sitting on the edge of the bed, thinking about you, and all the feelings I have about you; the feelings that never stop pounding loudly in my chest, the feelings that have overtaken all my logic and reasons, replacing it with something unidentifiable yet overwhelming. It’s funny how distant and strange the feeling seems to be in the morning. I wonder, what could have possibly happened during my sleep that has erased all the chaos, leaving no trace but the subtle feeling of a déjà vu, so subtle like a thin transparent fabric on your window. It has died down overnight.

At that very brief moment, I thought I finally got over you and all the impossibilities. It feels relieving at the beginning. 

Then I’d start to feel a sense of loss. I’d wonder would it felt not thinking about you every day. How would it felt not longing for you. How would it felt to finally stop dreaming and get my feet on the ground. How unpleasant everything is if I stop dreaming and let logic takes over. How unpleasant it would be for not having you sitting silently at the corner of my mind, listening to all the tales I’ve been telling myself in my quiet moments, hoping that you’d hear, somehow. 

With this doubt creeping, I’d get off my bed, feeling there’s a part of me cried for having to say goodbye to the feeling that (I thought) has ended, and at the same time relieved for finally being able to see things clearly again and continue my life.

And then, just when I finally step my feet on the floor, preparing to start another day, the feeling comes back, sweeping over me like a wave in the ocean. Waves that have reached the shore. Small, slow, uncertain to where to land, where to stop, where to hit, but keep on going nevertheless, dancing their way to the shore, sweeping everything on their way, erasing all the reasons and doubts that have been thrown at the end of the shoreline by confused souls. Drawing a new shoreline. Cleaning up the surface, leaving nothing but the sands, no footprints, no signs, no trace at all, nothing to show that once there were marks of doubts of pains of tears there.

And with that, once again I surrender to the feeling. Embracing the sight of the clean shoreline, instinctively letting in the taste of the air of a new day through my nose and into my lungs, running through my veins, and becoming the breath that I breathe for that day before it ends and another day arrive tomorrow. And it will start all over again. 

And it goes on. And on. And on.

That's What Sadness Does

What's left after the excitement and noise and cheers are silence.

Deafening silence.

Falling slowly, creeping to the ground like a brown dry leave floating down at the end of its existence. Slowly, slowly, but with finality, deadly conviction, the force of nature, unbind, without doubt, that it will fall, it will touch the ground.
Oh hell it will.

That's what sadness does.

It will come. It will fall upon you. Blending perfectly into the air particles around you. Forcing themselves into your nose, your lungs, clawing onto your blood cells, running along the flow of your blood, occupying your vein, riding the rhythm of  your pulse, invading your whole being.

There is no way you wouldn't feel it.

You will.
Feel.
Sad.
Oh hell you will.

And for a moment everything stills.

That's what sadness does.

Three Years Ago

"Let this be the last tears shed for you.

Please, let this be. 

Let us go our own separate ways in peace, and compassion, from now on. 

Let's not carry any more of what's left of our bitterness.

Please, let's just not. 

If there's still somewhere in the darkest secluded forgotten corner of your mind, a small place left for me

If there's any way, any wicked way the universe allows you to hear what I'm saying now, if there's any way somewhere in some parallel world, that you can hear me now

Hear me out

Please, say what you need to say, if you must.

Or hold your silence forever. And let this be the last.

Please."

Butterfly Chaos

What you gave me

(South Tangerang, 4 years ago)

Snail

Tuesday afternoon, 3.04 pm.


You know G, I’m listening to your song now.

I wonder what are you doing now? Are you walking somewhere now with your feet deep in the snow? Because the rain is pouring almost every day now in Jakarta and despite all the differences, I imagine the sky would be just the same. Cloudy, misty sky, a color of broken white, a hint of sad romance in a faraway land.

Oh by the way, the sky was beautiful last night.
I don’t like it when it’s too clear. Or simply cloudy.
Last night was a sky with subtle patterns of clouds, forming soft strikes from one end to another, twirling in beautiful curves, a dance of vast universe.
I feel at home looking at it.
A strange comfort.

And look at me now, doing my daily pages in the middle of working hours.

(Kebayoran, 4 years ago)

Listen to Me

My mind feels like it was going to blow away any minute. Multitasking is never a good thing.

Please, please, please, listen to me.

Listen to my subtle voice carried by the unheard wind.
Listen well. Think of the universe. Think of the connected, moving particles, older than the universe itself. We are not separated. We are forever connected. We have always been connected.

Clear your head, space out like you usually do, and try to hear me. Find me in the deafening silence when you’re alone and no one’s around. No music, no dancing, no spotlight. Just you, and the silence.

Listen well, and find me there.
I am there. In the snowflakes falling on your head and clinging to your hair when you walk under the open early winter sky. In the drops of snow melting from the leaves you see in the trees around you. The cold air of winter that you try to grab with your hands. The promise of spring afterward.

Listen well, G. Please, listen well. I am there.


(South Jakarta, 4 years ago)

Calling You

I wish you’d hear the smallest sound my dreams make.
Calling you.

(South Tangerang, 4 years ago)

When The Sun Rises

Every time I tell myself that this is a new day and the thought of you will fade as the sun rises. Every single time I learn that just like the sun, the thought of you returns. Every. Single. Day.


(Kebayoran, 4 years ago)

Does It Ever

One of those days I spend alone sitting at my front yard, waiting for the sun to set.
Wondering, does the color look the same from where you are standing?
Does it ever, look the same, from the place where you stand, walk, breath, talk, laugh, sleep, and dream?
Does it ever?

(South Tangerang, 4 years ago)

When Morning Comes

Every morning I’d wake up to a strange realization on how quiet it is inside my head. I’d spend the first few minutes sitting on the edge of the bed, thinking about you, and all the feelings I have about you; the feelings that never stop pounding loudly in my chest, the feelings that have overtaken all my logic and reasons, replacing it with something unidentifiable yet overwhelming. It’s funny how distant and strange the feeling seems to be in the morning. I wonder, what could have possibly happened during my sleep that has erased all the chaos, leaving no trace but subtle feeling of a déjà vu, so subtle like a thin transparent fabric on your window. It has died down over night.

At that very brief moment, I thought I finally got over you and all the impossibilities. It feels relieving at the beginning. Then I’d start to feel a sense of loss. I’d wonder would it felt not thinking about you every day. How would it felt not longing for you.  How would it felt to finally stop dreaming and get my feet on the ground. How unpleasant everything is if I stop dreaming and let logic takes over. How unpleasant it would be for not having you sitting silently at the corner of my mind, listening to all the tales I’ve been telling myself in my quiet moments, hoping that you’d hear, somehow. And then I’d get off my bed, feeling there’s a part of me cried for having to say goodbye to the feeling that (I thought) has ended, and at the same time relieved for finally being able to see things clearly again and continue my life.

And then, just when I finally step my feet on the floor, preparing to start another day, the feeling comes back, sweeping over me like a wave in the ocean. Waves that have reached the shore. Small, slow, uncertain to where to land, where to stop, where to hit, but keep on going nevertheless, dancing their way to the shore, sweeping everything on their way, erasing all the reasons and doubts that have been thrown at the end of the shoreline by confused souls. Drawing a new shore line. Cleaning up the surface, leaving nothing but the sands, no foot prints, no signs, no trace at all, nothing to show that once there were marks of doubts of pains of tears there.

And with that, once again I surrender to the feeling. Embracing the sight of the clean shoreline, instinctively letting in the taste of the air of a new day through my nose and into my lungs, running through my veins, and becoming the breath that I breathe for that day, before it ends and another day arrive tomorrow. And it will start all over again. And it goes on. And on. And on.

(South Tangerang, 4 years ago)

I Can't Name It

What would you call a feeling that gives you a warm sensation creeping down from your chest to your stomach when you think of a particular person?
What would you call a feeling that stretch your heart from head to toe, and stretch it even further, far, far to the furthest impossibility, only with the slightest thought of the person?
What would you call a feeling that always gets you thinking of that particular person when you see a beautiful path with the color of autumn, or a beautiful house with a soft, dim light and a sofa with old cushions, next to a long wooden paneled window looking out to the garden full of trees and flowers?

Tell me, what would you call a feeling that makes me think of you at the sight of that beautiful serenity of a comfortable, safe place to return to… The images of home…


I cannot name it.


(Kebayoran, 4 years ago)

Meringue

Dear G, we are spreading the pink meringues on the paper tissue now. We are trying to get the chocolate ones but they were put at the bottom under the pink ones (and no one wants to try the pink ones, you know how it is, chocolates are far more appealing).

So here they are finally spread, all pinks, against the white paper tissue. They looked so cute, with all the tiny dots of red all over them. I love meringue. I always love the way they melt in my mouth.

Dear G, this is nothing but another nonsensical thoughts appear out of nowhere. You don’t have to read it. You’ll probably never read it. You might never even realize that it has been written and posted here, all these things about you. But if one day you read it, you don’t need to cringe, or frown. And you don’t have to like meringues.

It’s just me. With another nonsensical thoughts appear out of nowhere. Yet even the most nonsense things seem to be triggering the thought of you.

Dear G, we are spreading the pink meringues on the paper tissue, and I suddenly wondered, do you actually like meringues too?
But again, it’s okay, you don’t have to like it. I was just wondering how you are doing now.


(Kebayoran, 4 years ago)

Mid Afternoon

I’m sipping my coffee now. No, I’m not thinking of you.
I’m just sipping my coffee, sitting still on my chair at my cubicle, staring at the monitor, catching up with the morning news streaming like waters.

Really, I’m just sipping my coffee. I’m sipping my coffee, typing words and words and numbers into the screen, talking to my colleagues, making some phone calls to some clients, texting some friends, moving on with life.

I’m not thinking of you.
Just like the other days before this, the days when my mind was not too occupied with the thought of you, I’m just sipping my coffee.

No, I’m not thinking of you.


(Kebayoran, 4 years ago)

Melancholy

I was talking to my brother on the phone yesterday. It was a small talk about small unimportant things, simply to catching up with each other’s life. Somewhere in the middle of the conversation, I started to wonder, what were you doing at the moment? Were you talking on the phone with someone too? Was it your sister? Or your parents? Or perhaps your friends? Some important people in your life that you don’t see every day? What were you talking about with them? Was it the small unimportant things in your life too? Something along the line of what are you doing for the weekend? Something like how life has been going so far? Something like have you heard about auntie something and her daughter cousin something? Was it the same small unimportant things of everyday life of people like me? What kind of life is the life you’re living?

All the questions brought me to a realization that I know very little about your life. That there are so many unimportant yet interesting things in my life that I want to share with you. The unimportant things that decorate the simple, uneventful life of the people like me. Wouldn’t it be nice to share them with you? Wouldn’t you love to hear that? Have you ever wonder what kind of life that people like me is living?  What are our everyday lives made of? What are our small talks on the phone consist of? The small unimportant things in my life, are they actually the same small unimportant things as yours? Do you ever wonder how life looks like, how life feels like, here in my part of the world? Have you ever thought about them, as much as I do about your world?

Then I felt tears forming in the corner of my eyes.

I think I miss you. In the most impossible way that could possibly exist. I miss you.

(South Jakarta, 4 years ago)

Late Autumn (And Rainy Days)

Here I am, sitting and listening to late autumn while watching the cars and motorcycles rushing their way home on this rainy night.

I’m thinking about you, about the difference between autumn breeze and drizzling rain. I’m thinking about how autumn turns everything brown and reddish around you, and how rain leaves small charming droplets on my window. I’m thinking about what you’re thinking when you pull the scarf around your neck and step outside your door; looking at the sky. Are you aware that hundred of miles from where you stand, there’s someone who’s also looking at the same sky, that very sky that you’re staring at? Do you know how that someone wonders what does autumn feels like while she opens her umbrella and walk outside her door in the middle of the pouring rain? Do you know how that someone wonders what it feels like to be standing next to you, watching the leaves falling to the earth, to be walking next to you along the small path, relishing the sound of brown and red leaves under your feet?

I’m thinking about you; about the grey sky above our heads, about how different things are, about the fact that the only connection between us is the cold weather that’s been lingering around us since the beginning of the autumn and the rainy season, about how it will never make any difference.

I’ve been pondering about this for some time now and I wonder, what would you think if you know that I am here, thinking about you?

(South Jakarta, 4 years ago)

31 Days of Randomness - Day 1: Another Undelivered Message

Hi you,
I hope this undelivered message finds you well.

I had lunch with a couple of friends yesterday, when one of my friends received  a news that her uncle passed away that morning, so she had to leave the office early to catch a flight to her hometown.

Surely the universe has a lot to say to me in this 'apparently not moved on from you' phase of my life, because suddenly my mind went back to you and our conversation a few years ago. I remember you told me at the time, that you would be staying at the office that night, because your driver was not in that day and you didn't want to drive alone because the traffic is so frustrating.

You were frustrated.
(Now if I recall all the times I've known you, I can say that you were always frustrated. Although you never want to talk about it).

'My driver took a short notice leave. Said he'd need to go back to his hometown. His grandma died'.
You said with a snort. (You didn't use any emoticon but I'm very sure I can hear you snorting. It would be weird if you didn't anyway, knowing you.)

'Oh okay', I said.

'Pssshh. Grandmother dies and he went back home'.You continued.

I didn't say anything.

'I don't think I care when my grandparents passed away. I  didn't go back home'. You added.

I stayed quiet.

'Who cares. It's only grandparents'.

'Right'. I said cautiously.

'You know what, I haven't even go home for 6 months. My mom has been nagging me to come and visit but I don't care'.

'You don't', I said again. It's not a question.

'No. I don't care. It annoys me'.

'But your Mom is waiting for you', I said. Again, not a question.

'Yeah, she is'. A laugh emoticon. 'Oh but who cares. I can't stand to be there'.

'Such an ungrateful son you are, I said'. Gave a laugh emoticon too. Because, of course, that should be a joke, right?

'I know. I know I am. That's why I don't want to have kids :)'. And there's the smiley added to your sentence.

Unlike laugh emoticon, smiley unsettles me. Two dots and a curve that tend to say too much because they obviously hide too much.

So I added yet another laugh emoticon. And despite the absence of sound, I think it was an awkward one. It was awkward because I think there was this uncomfortable feeling creeping slowly into my chest. Out of embarrassment (of what, I don't know). Out of the sharp pang of understanding silently dawn on me. A realization that you are a lost cause. And I am a lost cause for thinking that you're probably not and hoping against hope for it.

We are a lost cause. All hopes are gone. Or never there in the first place. The glass walls were broken and shattered. The wind broke loose, confused as it was and died down before it had the chance to break anything breakable or touch anything touchable. Chances never had a chance.

Of course, it was a message.
Something you've been trying to tell me without hurting your ego by bringing whatever it was going on between us to the table.
Of course, it's what you've been trying to say since the very beginning of our... friendship?Acquaintance? Something close to 'being in a position of knowing someone'?  A mistake?

I should have listened.

It took me years of faithfully nurturing a heartbreak, a handful of streaks of tears (yes, only a handful, and no, I didn't cried that much for it to be more than a handful, no, despite the whirlwind of emotions you inflicted on me).
It took me hundreds of back and forth between hoping and stop hoping, waiting and letting go, continue crying or start smiling, to finally understand everything.

Still, I'm not letting you go.