scattered-symphony

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Beberapa tahun terakhir, buatku hidup ibarat sebilah bambu yang terbentang menjembatani jurang. Aku pemeran utamanya, tertatih menyeberang. Pelan, ragu, takut. Ada kalanya istirahatㅡistirahat sampai tertidur, lalu mimpi sudah sampai disebrang jurang, aman dan bahagia.

Tapi makin ke sini, rasanya kaki sudah tidak menapak lagi. Sudah tak tahu bagaimana harus bangkit. Boro-boro ingat untuk menyeberang.. sekarang cuma bisa memeluk bambu, menyeret diri, dan kalau terpeleset menggantung pasrah sambil berpikir apa sudah tiba waktunya mati masuk jurang. Sekarang rasanya bambu itu jadi subjek utama dan aku hanya lewat, hanya tamu figuran.

Kalau sekadar tamu... harusnya boleh datang dan pergi sesukaku, kan?

Tapi dunia bilang, jatuh ke jurang itu bukan pilihan. Katanya itu salah.

Jadi sementata aku pegang dulu bambunya. Belum dilepas. Masih bisa lihat senyum mama papa dan teman-teman di seberang jurang. Jauh. Capek. Tapi dilepas juga belum berani. Belumㅡitu sekarang. Gatauㅡnantinya gimana.

Kalau tidak mampu menyeberang

satu-satunya jalan cuma ke bawah, kan?

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The girl sits on the nook, her chin on her knees, the window open beside her. The cold autumn wind blows in, biting her delicate fingers with chills and ruffling her golden silk dress. But the girl is too busy, too focused on mentally counting the days since she last saw her family. Her motherㅡwith eyes that have the depth of the whole universe, her fatherㅡwhose hands are able to move the fog away from her path, her siblingsㅡtheir laughter as refreshing as morning dew. And, oh, their puppy, who is the sweetest thing she has ever known in the world. She missed how she used to roll on the grass without worrying her clothes getting dirty, or her hairstyle getting messed up, or her jewelry getting crushed. She remembered racing her siblings to the waterfall near their uncle’s villa and be the first who jumped in to the water without caring about how waterproof her waterproof make up is. Her head counts, pulling out memories and stacking them on top on another, like how her asistants kept laying more clothes on her bed this morning because she just can’t find the right thing to wear. Six months since they played Uno together with the fire burning bright in their fireplaceㅡwhere she burnt their relationships away when her parents started giving her pieces of advices, 7 months since they had dinner together with her mother’s special mashed potato served warm at their old cedar table, a year since their last picnic togetherㅡwhen the twins had their birthday, and 2 years since their last vacation at the beach when her whole family stayed up past midnight singing along to the melody her guitar made. Her heart aches as the the memories grow older, stretching further into the old times. She sighes, tears like pearls rolling down her pale skin. She thought she was done with her family. Ah, if only all the jewels in the world can provide her with warmth like her family did.

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If we don't fake smiles,

or fake laughters,

how much interactions would be going on social medias?

would the world be toxic or would the world open up and embrace all our wounds?

[scattered-symphony]

no. i'm not alright. but if you ask what's wrong i just can't explain.

cause you see, what breaks me is nothing like the reason you feel anxious or sad or devastated.

what breaks me is something too insignificant for you. something you might even feel excitement toward. and i have been struggling with it for so long i don't remember who i am without all these fear and insecurities.

ㅡget me out of this circle

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[scattered-symphony]

it’s hard being a student.

It’s hard being a student when emotionally, your life outside of the classroom seems like it’s being torn to bits.

It’s hard being a student when you feel like you’re the most lonely person on the planet and like no one will ever understand you or even love you enough to tolerate all of your baggage.

It’s hard being a student when you cry a lot of the time. Because the tears get in the way of your vision and the heartache gets in the way of your focus, and no one should ever have to cry and study for a midterm or write a research paper all at the same time.

It’s hard being a student when your family doesn’t understand. Anything. At all.

It’s hard being a student when you’re also a person, a real life breathing human being who needs things like food and water and social interaction and maybe a little bit of love to survive healthily.

It’s hard being a student when you want other things so bad.

It’s hard being a student when it all gets too much and too overwhelming to handle and all of the unfinished check boxes of you planner won’t stop reminding you that you have to get this done or else you’ll absolutely fail and die.

It’s hard being a student when you’re just so tired. of everything.

It’s hard being a student. I know it is. Because I feel it. All the time.

But you’ve come this far. And I hope you can learn to be a little more gentle on yourself. And I hope you remember one day your hard work might just pay off for a life you’ve deserved. One day the pain will go away.

But I need you to keep going. I need you to stay in this world and fight today.

Because being a student is hard. But the pain of giving up a whole lot of hope and dreams is harder.

(10/6/18)

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I’m breaking and I’m running out of glue. I used to think I am good enough but now words are no longer enough to assure me. I am tired and no medication in the world can help with that. And God I want to stop I just don’t know how because the world is still spinning and I am in motion I cannot fall out.

Please

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My mind blooms like a flower a dark, thorny one unfortunately

-one night in the darkness

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people write of couples and break ups and here I am wondering the possibility to simply accept myself

sometimes i wish i could break up with myself

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I want to die so bad the idea of reincarnation makes me tremble in fear

I just want to die

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hi.

My brain is probably running a thousands of thoughts per second but I am typing this way too slow for it.

I feel stupid and my fingers are awkward.

I thought I was calm.

The storm hits me right when I see the white blank canvas and my fingers touch the keyboard.

I wanted to think about other things, more important ones like my future.

Yet I lost that will just now. because I am confused.

my thought and my brain is a never ending current of thoughts and I am hating at how it swirls. I despise the way it goes all round and back and round and around and round and round and how one thought risen the other and the other calls some other and they keep coming back to the beginning. wondering about how it starts and why it never end. pondering what the answers might be when really, the answer is possibly buried deep within what I think is a subconscious part of me. where all the lies can never live and where all the truth will always hide and where I can always just be honest because it’s just a part of me, inside me, exclusively for me and yet it needs way more courage than I ever thought it would and I don’t think I have enough courage to stay a minute down there; a part of me hidden from nearly everything for having the fire to burn everything and set everything ablaze.

I am afraid.

I am odd.

and above everything else I am tired of hide and seek.

because I keep telling myself I don’t know. because I keep waging a war inside my mind and I have been dragging my heart in mud and I have been crying in blood and I have been screaming in languages I don’t even recognize and things have been very different. things have been unrecognizable. and I am desperate. I am desperate and I have no idea what I am doing my brain is wandering with purpose without knowing where it’s going. and it might or might not be tired. it might or might not be dead because I have hope and hope is with me. but then again I can’t live solely with hope. because winters will still be cold and I have no fire to keep me warmer. because winter will still be cold and the world is harsh and nature is hard with no consideration. and I no longer know where I am going.

but I am looking for spring breeze. I am looking for the smell of roses and tulips and I am looking for the pretty butterflies. and I crave wind and crisp leaves and autumn hues and cozy sweaters and crackling hearth where my home will be and my peace will be. and I will be cozy with a cup of hot chocolate in my hand and there I wont type mindlessly. I wont type slowly looking at the monitor like a zombie because even if my fingers will always be awkward they will dance on the words they will tiptoe on the keyboard. they will perform the best ballet there ever was and please all the words and caress them lovingly because that’s what they were made to do. their purpose.

and I don’t have a purpose.

I am looking for a direction at which I want to journey; at which I want to go. and I’m seeing no path worth the adventure.

i’m afraid of the risks. 

I am afraid of the distance even though all my life I have always been running, been finding comfort in the distance for saving me from all the responsibilities and the burden and I am lost. I am lost I am getting afraid of distances because what if far far away people don’t like me. what if I leave those whom I love and find out that love itself is not enough to make me return but I think I will still return with all the risk of having my life destroyed in the cost of going back to where they are.  but what if I am happy with all those distance and the missing of all those people can be okay as something totally normal and human but I also have my life far far in the distance in a place where I am healed and I can have time on weekdays and relax on weekends and still have fun with my life in a way I have always wanted. but what if I cant. what if I cant.

[scattered-symphony]

If only my tears were blood I would have been actually dead by now

I wish my tears were blood

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I love you With all the constant ache on my chest With all these staccatto beats of my heart I truly do

and i am afraid

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I am only a shell where the ocean is still sounding.

Marina Tsvetaeva, excerpt of Insomnia (tr. by Elaine Feinstein)

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Aku ingin menyeduh waktu Mencampur manis gula dan pahit teh Aku ingin menenggak waktu Dengan cara yang membuat Momen-momen pahit tak terasa Aku ingin mencecap waktu Dengan cara yang memungkinkan Kenangan manis membekas lebih lama Tapi sungguh, Semua itu Hanya demi Tamu yang baru Sayang Bukan karena aku ingin minum sekali lagi

Sayang, ini bukan hidupmu. Ini hidupku

[scattered-symphony]

It surprises me how sometimes I write with a blank mind And a pair of moving hands

Is that me or my inner self or my deepest thoughts?

[scattered-symphony]

There was a butterfly on the wall And it was so, so small Under the big, big light But it's shadow was so, so huge.

negative thoughts