Sands of Time

Just like how the wind swipes away all the sand,
or the water wash away the dirt,
I think time will erase memories meant to be forgotten.

At least, if that's not possible,
I hope it will turn them into a good one, and make us forget that they once stung.

Beyond the Line

As reckless as a fool,
I sometimes do something,
just to see,
how far will I go?

It's good to be a rationalist.
But tiring.
And boring.
And pessimistic.
But not that I want to change.
I can't.

So sometimes, just sometimes,
I let myself go.
Crossing the line just a little bit.
And a little bit more.
And more.
I'm pushing my limit.
I am simply just curious how far I can go.

Because once I thought I knew myself.
Yet I don't.
And I'm eager to see what lies beyond the line.

Do you know such a feeling?
The curiosity. The doubt. The guts. The carefulness yet the recklessness.
It excites me as much as it scares me.

It's not what comes after that scares me.

It's myself.
I'm scared of how far I want to go.

Human World

In this corrupted, tainted world,
how do we stay pure?
How do we trust,
for humans are full of egoist intentions?
How do we love,
as it deserves to be?

As people say how naïve we are,
I just don't want to grow into a cold-hearted adult.

A moment

She breathes.
Hops.
Chirps.
Pecks the ground and eats.

It's been awhile she stays there.
Yet there's another world up there.
The world where she was once.

Sometimes she looks up.
And stares at that blue empty space.
There goes she wonders.

The heavenly ground makes it so hard for her to remember how it feels like to fly.
How it feels like when the soft air brushes her white, white feathers.
How it feels like to be there in the blue.

Noone knows what she did.
And that sometimes she looks up.
To dream.
To reminisce.
To touch the fragments of memory she decided to leave.

It's not like she wants to feel again.
It's just, sometimes, the sweet pain stings.
And all she can do is to let herself feel the pain until it vanishes.

The Epilogue

I let you notice that I care.
I let you know when I'm pissed.
I let you see I leave.

Glad to know that you think I'm sincere. Or what? I'm not sure.
But I will still let myself believe what I feel.

That I am sincere but a human.
That I leave but I miss.
That I don't care but you do.

I'm sorry.
Sorry. Sorry.

There was time I wish you the best.
This time I will be more sincere.

Also, for letting me know, thank you.

Cliché

I feel like blinded.
But happy.
At ease.

Should I worry?

Maybe I should.
I usually do.
But I am at ease right now.
It's not an exciting one. Nor the sappy silly one. Not also the hurting one.

And I keep wanting to pray for the best for you.
Who cares what happens in the future.
I just want the best for you.
And now I remember this is actually the second time.

To love is to let go.
Never once I think it is as beautiful as it sounds.
Cliché.
But then, this warm courage, what is it?

At a little corner

Busy day.
Busy mind.

I'm thinking about a lot of stuff.
How I am not content about my current life.
What I would do if I were there.
That I miss those short past moments.

And then there is you.

You might not be happy about it.
That you appear not first.
But I am.
That, at a little corner of my crowded mind, I notice, there you are.

Broken Branch

"Why didn't you tell me sooner?"
"Why did you let me discover it by myself, long after what happened?"

... because humans are weak.
There comes the cunning, when they have to seek comforts.

Reality hurts.

The End of The Battle

Why is it,
as time goes by,
the older I am,
that I thought I was more mature now,
the more things I regret?

How come,
when I always say I don't want to regret anything when I die?

Have I forgotten of how I lived my life?

With every single tear and pain,
do people get weaker, or stronger?

Really...
Adults are pathetic beings.
They think they know how to love.
I guess they just realize how to feel lonely.

I'm home

but homesick.

And then I leave and run

Bye, black bird.

Do It

More.

Do it more.

More.
More than this.
More than before.
More than I can take.

Do it.
And do it fast.
Or however. I don't care.
Just do it.
Just not half-heartedly like this.

Who say what

"I'm good at prentending.
You're good at being yourself."

Upon A Star

I want to keep being naïve and be more mature.
So I can start things like a child and end them like an adult.
So I can do good sincerely and don't regret it no matter how it turns out to be.
So I can forgive and forget.
So I can love like I've never been hurt.

When The Mighty Time Tells

So there she is. Sitting by the end of the dock.

The wind blows nicely. The voice of the sea is calming. And seagulls are calling each other to come home.

With her both legs hanging down toward the shore, she gazes at the sky. The golden colour is mesmerizing. And somewhat fragile. It's a pity it will turn dark soon. Is that why it looks so unbearably beautiful?

She tries not to think. That's not what she needs. She has done enough. More than enough. She has to find a way to end it. Not like she has a choice.

She just wants to make a peace with herself.

The boat is leaving soon. The hitting waves make it look shaky and frail, but it's good to go. And she is the one and only honored guest for the ship captain. Everyone is waiting for her to come back.

She kicks the air gently with small gestures. Her bare foot are shimmering from the saltwater splashing onto them. And she wonders why it is so difficult to carry on.

Does she regret?

Does she not have a wonderful time?

Does she hope not to go?

Well. No. No, to be honest.

She knows she has to go. It's not regretful at all. Although it wasn't easy for her to come to that point. Despite her love for this lovely isle.

Then what is it holding her back? What is it making it so hard to get up and step in to the boat?

She doesn't have any regret. Because she knows she's sincere all along. She knows, and doesn't expect more. But realities are cruel. Sometimes being sincere is not enough for one to let go.

She hopes nothing. She knows. That's why she does nothing.

But deep down inside, she doesn't like how it ends. Yet she does nothing but to wait. She's at the point of not knowing what to do so it turns out well for everyone, that it's easier to just sit and wait there.

She does not regret. Nor angry. Nor upset. She is just waiting for herself to make a peace with herself. So everything turns out brighter, that she can leave with a smile, by the end of the day...

At The End of The Isle

Easy for me because I love you.
Easy for you because you don't.
Just how easy for us to say otherwise.

The Hopping Bunny

So she hops. And hops. And hops.
She has fun. The new world is so fun!
It's exciting. She keeps discovering new wonders as she goes on.

There are these strange trees. Small and big creatures pass by. A river. Good berries everywhere.
And there is this dancing flame. Wow, she thinks. She is mesmerized by the radiance. And before she knows it, the flame has become her north.

Then suddenly, at some point, she stops.
She looks around, and notices. The world she sees now is no longer how she imagines it would be.
It's foggy. And this dancing flame, despite the bluish colour, starts to emit fieriness more than her fluffy pure white fur can take.

And there she is, standing in between two crossing paths.

She stops.
She hesitates.
She knows which road she should take. But she doesn't move.

Once in a while she crawls. Then she looks back. And crawls again. And stops again. And looks back again.
The mesmerizing aquamarine is so fade. She is not sure anymore whether it's real or just a scrap of memories of hers.

Sometimes she hops. And stops. And looks back.
As if she is waiting for something.
After some time again, she hops again.
There. Just like that. And she starts to think she's being delusional.

But she can't stop forever.
So yes, she hops. And hops. And hops.

Time Alone

"You're thinking too much!"

Well. That phrase is commonly said to me whenever I tell friends about what is going on my mind. Again, over and over, ubtil it sunk to my head that I do tend to think too much, which almost always leads me to unnecessary thinkings. Which most of the time depresses me.

So I try to reduce it. As soon as I realize my own thinking has been torturing me, I call someone to spill everything, or to hang out or whatsoever keeps me away from thinking. It works, sometimes. Sometime it's just like running from reality.

But then again, actually, if people ever tell me how mature I am, I think it's because of that bad habbit of mine. Because I tend to think about everything. Overthink, you might say. Or in a positive term, I tend to reflect on what happens. So I know what I'm going through. I learn. Or at least I learn more about myself. Doesn't necessarily make me not do the same mistakes again.

And then I realize something new.
I overthink, yes, there's nothing new about it.
But it leads to a torture, only when I cannot think with cool head.
Or should I say, when I'm overwhelmed with feelings.

You know, sometimes it's really funny how we just spill something spontaneously without realizing it's the answer we've been looking for for a long period. And a moment after you utter it, you stop a sec just to say a mental 'aahhh yeah that!' to yourself.

And that's leading me to this answer.

A time alone is not always bad. In fact, that's exactly what you need to solve your problem. Because most of the time, my problem is a battle inside my head. The realist me versus the sentimental me.

I say, I'm more a realist than a sentiment. I use logic and brain, and I despise a decision produced by nothing but sentimental background. Like you don't even bother to think. It's stupid. Immature.

But then there is something new I discovered during this time alone.
That I may not be the realist I'm always proud of.

It's quite extreme, I'm aware. But it's like 'clicked!'. Come to think about it, it explains why I never learn from my mistakes. Something that I always wonder why.

Because no matter how my brain thinks it's not good, my heart is more honest. Sure, I let brain have the control. So heart must shut up. Must take the damage. That's because I think it's for the best. Of both.

And that made me think more. How come I'm such a contradict like that. Like I have a split personality. And they battle each other each time I fall for, well...

Then I come to this conclusion: because that's how I am raised. To think more than to feel. Just like when I finally realized that I'm more of an extrovert than an introvert. Just like how I finally became 50-50 of both introvert and extrovert. But still the real self of me wins. I am indeed more of an extrovert. But the battle between the realist and the sentiment hasn't been ended yet. Although I have a hunch, I just need one last hit to have a winner. And I'm a bit afraid of how different I will be, once it's ended. If heart wins, will I lose myself? Or will I be happier?

Sigh. Talking about happiness, I also notice something else. I am raised to know my place. To put others ahead of me. Because that's how people will like you.
But now, I think, so what?

Ahh. It's more annoying when I have to say it like this.

Yeah. I tend to sacrifice myself just to please others. Like when I just 'play' other's games so noone's going to hurt. So I shut up and follow. I bury what I'd like to scream. Because I think it would be inappropriate. That's why I always hesitate to try to grab my happiness. And in the end, I don't.

But you miss one point, Mom. I'm hurt. I don't know if you can always, always take it. But I can't. You also are not able to, if we want to be frank. I'm more honest than you, to begin with. More egoist than you.

However. When you are raised like that for 20 years, it's just not that easy just to switch, you know. I feel wrong not doing so. In the end, I keep doing the same thing while hurting myself.

Sigh. That's bad, I don't know my limit. I'm not sure whether I have surpass it yet or not. And I'm not sure until when I can keep going, pushing my limit like that. Even this time, I thought I have reached the limit and I've gone wrong.

I still have this time alone for awhile. Before the storm comes. Although I hope, by then I will already have strong legs to stand within the storm. So it feels like a rain instead. A mere rain that will wash my mind, that I can think clearly again.

So then I can say goodbye to this town and whatever I've gone through this one year.
So I can make peace to myself.

After All This Time

After all this time,
if you want me to be honest,
and since you already point it out,
yes, I'm afraid.

Because I know what's going to happen.
There are so many times I tell myself it's going to be okay,
despite all the hesitations I have,
in the end I have to shout to myself hard and loud,
"Told you!"
"I know it!"

Then what do you want?
Could you please stop stripping my mask?
I'm already bare,
and you said so yourself you have no intention.

I'm afraid.
That's how I protect myself.
That's how I keep myself sane.
Because only God knows what's going to happen once I let all these feelings go.
I might lose myself.
Or I'm just afraid that I would.

I'm a coward. And I know it.
Maybe next time I will just say it in your face.
So I will regret and promise myself it's better to be a coward forever.

The Story of Two Sisters

So this is a story about two sisters. They were close in age, couldn't tell how many years apart though. But they seemed nothing like sisters. They looked nothing alike. One had a curly fair hair, with an open and harsh personality. When she didn't like it, she said it bluntly. She was an expressive one. While the other was a quiet loner. She didn't talk much. Her straight and dark hair suited her personality well. And they didn't get along well. The curly one would complain and stated what was wrong with her sister, and the loner one would make an annoyed face and left her sister alone, cursing more stuff because of this attitude.

Until 2 guys came into their lives. Those 2 young men were not really close friends. They fought. But it didn't mean they hated each other. Or it was safe to say, they were closer to each other rather than the girls to each other. One was called Ichijou, and the other was called Nichijou. Even their names sounded more like brothers than the sisters'. They both were bright guys, though Nichijou's personality was more carefree than Ichijou. Soon, Ichijou dated the loner and Nichijou dated the curly sister. The four of them never fought after that. Whenever the atmosphere around the girls started to turn bad, their boyfriends would tag along, and part them so each couple could have a sweet date. Looking at the smile of their boyfriends, those girls couldn't help to fight again, even though they were still pissed to each other. But that was the beginning of the close relationships. And those four went like that until they got married.

Not too long after they got married, suddenly there was a news saying Ichijou had a sudden death. No one knew why he passed away. The first time everyone learned about it, no one believed it. Especially his wife. Until his dead body came arrive to their house. No one could deny the reality anymore. Everyone in the house was deeply saddened by the news. And they started to get busy preparing the funeral of Ichijou.

But the curly sister noticed something wrong. Her sister's face were far too calm for a person who had lost her beloved. She knew her sister was a loner and cold from the beginning, but it still felt wrong. So for the first time in their lives, she worried about her sister. She asked the loner whether she was okay or not. And without looking at her sister, she said she was. Like nothing happened, she continued to prepare the funeral. The curly sister was not satisfied with that answer, but she couldn't preach more. She stayed silent, and left the house of her sister with uneasiness in her heart.

That night, the loner came into the room where the body of Ichijou was placed. They had bathed him, put a make up on him, and white, clean, beautiful clothes so he looked so, so decent. So decent that it was hard to believe that he was dead. In fact, the loner sister didn't believe it. How could it be? Her husband just went to work. How come he came back home dead? No. Impossible.

Then she slipped into his futon. And the reality now struck her hard. Her love was dead. He left her alone. He would never be there for her in the future. She was sad. She was upset. So upset that she hit his chest hard. She blamed him. Why. How could he die. She couldn't accept that. She was shattered. She was crying, and screaming, and panting. But no sound came out at all. And no tears were shed. She just wrapped herself under the same warm blanket next to him, and held him tight. Just like usual. Just like every night they slept together. Just like he would get up like usual the next morning...



And believe me, this story is my dream today. Even the names came out in the dream. I added nothing to it. Just wrote them down. Such a depressing story. Made my mood gloomy as well, when I woke up.

This is not the first time I dream a short story like this.The other time, I let them be forgotten. But this time, I wrote them into a short story. It was a depressing story, but somehow I understand the feelings going around those four imaginary characters. Human's relationship is complicated after all, and death is a mystery. Imagine how going through that? I don't wanna know. Seriously.

That was what encouraged me to turn them into a written story. So there they are :)

From Your Valentine

I once said this to my friend,

Why not write on your blog? Because you can say whatever you want, with a low possibility your friends will give a damn about it, and zero possibility your parents will ever find it?

Kinda useful advice for myself now. So I'm going to exploit that advantage now.

It's Valentine's Day today. I just discovered, the phrase of "from your Valentine" is actually a goodbye phrase said by Saint Valentine to a girl he once saved. So I'm about to say something as well. And I hope, this is going to be the last time I've ever said it.

So, here it is.

I'm not good at expressing my feelings toward people I love.

I can't always bring myself to tell that I miss them. The least I can do, is only to pray in my heart, that God will cherish them, keep them happy and healthy, wherever they are, and whatever they do.

So, I hope you're happy, whatever your decision is. I hope you're doing great in everything you want to do. And may God always protect you, and lead you to the best path of your life.

Because I miss you. And I've missed you enough.

Happy Valentine's Day :)

Hmm

So, apparently my last post is when I was still in Jakarta.
Yeah, now I live in Paris. So what.

Well, that is to say, a lot of things have happened since then.
Please, I'm not in the mood to tell a story about how my life in France is, seriously. It's a good thing, of course, something I have always wished for. But reality hurts, eh? Nothing really exciting happens, even though every single time I tell people that now I live in Paris, everyone, without fail, is like, "Wow that's fun! So how's it?"

Just so you note, I'm extremely in a bad mood right now. Seems like I only write a new blog post when I am in such a mood, eh? LOL
My point is, it'd be wise if you don't take what I say seriously now, due to my mood XD

It's just, like the title, it's... hmm...
Have you ever felt like this?
When you have something really disturbing in your mind,
really really a pain in the ass,
but you cannot tell anyone because you'll feel pathetic if you do?

Ah damn. Why does everything have to go wrong in one time.
I really need an explanation where it goes wrong. And at which point I do make mistakes. 

That's best describing my 'hmm'.

Well, it's just, your feelings can't lie, aight?
You can tell what's in your mind loudly, persistently to your heart, and make yourself believe that it's the truth. But somehow you will still deny, if it's not.

So, hmm... I............ well....................... :)