Shambled and Sought For

Sunday, September 23, 2018 Comments Off

"Are you sure what you are experiencing is love?" you asked me.

I tried to laugh it off. Everything seemed to be in shambled: the world, my country, your city, our workplaces, and my head—but the first thing you asked was this? How could this shadowed everything? All the mess in the world did not seem to matter when you were being questioned about your capability and capacity to love.

"What other thing hurts me more than that? Pulled you apart, sewn you back in, with barely enough time for breathing? What other things that are crazier than that?" I berated, smiling even though I knew, my smile did not reach my eyes.


My smile faltered. Three layers of clothing and you managed to make me feel cold. I despised your ability to do this.

"Even if it was not love—are feelings real, if you can't name them or describe them?" I countered.

Our fingers danced over the empty cups of tea we each had, but yours were dancing too close to the edge, as if you were desperately trying to summon another batch of tea. Your magic used to work, many exchanged glances ago when we were only separated by an adjoining wall, not a lifetime. How did it come to this?

"So it is not real?" you asked, biting your bottom lip.

"It had always been real for me—I could never say the same thing for you." I replied, finally letting myself acknowledge the truth that I used to despise.

You let out a loud breath. "Are you blaming me for your feelings?"

"I would never do that. My feelings for you had always been self-initiated. The motivations came from within. Always something about you, about the thought of us together, that made the feelings bloomed even brighter. I had always wished for something more. There were days when I felt like I could burst out with the intensity, but there were also days when I felt like my energy got drained just because of everything that I felt for you. It was selfish of me for wanting you to understand about this supernova, but you could have at least acknowledged my feelings."

You whispered quietly, "Then what do you want from me?"

"It was never what I wanted from you. It always had been about what I could provoke you. I would never want to have anything that was given forcefully. I only sought for clarity. Apparently that is the only thing that you could never give me," I sighed, "None of this matters anymore. I will always think of you whenever I need a reminder how winning myself over look like."

14.52 in Elsewhere

Saturday, August 4, 2018 Comments Off

I am sitting in a cafe that embodies everything I love. Anonymity is not seen as something negative in here, in fact it is quite the opposite.

It is almost golden hour and I am reminded of the new truths that were unfolded recently.

But perhaps the most heart-shattering but empowering one is the fact that I will always be alone in any form possible.

There is a lady in front of me. She ordered a cup of flat white and a smoothie bowl, both of which she gulped down quickly. Right now, with a bottle of water and a pair of sunglasses next to her, she is writing down her notes on a piece of white paper with a pink pen with her left hand. She looks out of place but content with herself at the same time. I do not know what she is writing right now. Maybe it is something about her schedule on the upcoming week or something about what she learned today. But she is here—happily writing away without care in the world.

As sad as it is, I truly feel like this is what I will be in the future. I feel like watching a mirror image of myself.

Alone, in an elsewhere, writing away.

And I am trying to accept that.

Something Pure and Peaceful

Wednesday, June 20, 2018 Comments Off

It's funny how time retains and removes everything at its path -- how time does not let go a certain stuff, even though any type of scenario regarding it has been dissected in thousand different way played by various main characters.

How unfortunate for us, me and my friend, that our separate endings are the ones we never thought would be possible. Essentially letting things be, even if we already knew that things would have turned out differently if there was one minuscule difference. We regret that things did not fall into place in the way we wanted to, but what's pure about everything that we experience is the fact that these lovely scenarios and feelings have never been touched by the ugliness that reality often brings. It is the saddest, yet the loveliest thing that we could experience after finally letting it be.

For me, everything that I felt was fuelled by fire. Everything burned at its wake. Everything it touched turned aflame. Burst of fire at its wake ruined everything else. My writings, however poignant or intimate it might be, were flaming. Red, hot, tireless flames were what I could see. And the smoke -- it was higher than anything, blocking everything. I could not see anything clearly. It was not  a flattering thing, I know. But it was the only thing I got, both unfortunately and fortunately. It did not swallow me whole. I came out of it alive, breathing, but appear with burn scars in a few places. I now accept the fact that I would never completely heal, that these marks would stay with me to remind me that there was purity in the fire. There was aspects of loveliness and liveliness from coming out alive after those pure fire. This is a tale that not everyone can experience in their lifetime.

I cannot say the same thing about my friend regarding her previous experience.

But we both agree what comes next should feel like calming waters in the depth of ocean. Something that would clear your heart and your head instead of blurring them. Something that more determined than fire, but not as stubborn. Calmly, calmly. A different kind of purity and peace. An essence of life. Something that is necessary but without coercion. Something that fuels and disposes of anything else that could not help you to grow. Something that wants you to grow in the same pace and to the same place. Something that changes and settles at the same time.

Will you be that body of water, my darling?

Unlost and Lost

Monday, June 18, 2018 Comments Off

it was 4 am in the morning when I quivered and shattered.
I wanted to bloom--
truly, to feel myself blossoming and expanding,
reaching out to the nurturing energy out there

patience was a virtue that I was familiar with, but never mastered.
so the pedal broke. the fuel was insufficient.
the circumstance was pushing me to contract
--to wait, to wait, to wait it chanted

in the distance I heard someone crying,
this cry of help that I've heard lifetimes ago
here again, not for something that was easily fixed
again, for the same irreparable thing

whatever that got unlost and lost again
--no, not what but whomever that got unlost and lost
would have to learn to bite their tongue and swallow their blood
through the unmapped wilderness that the universe provided

All Your Tousled Hair

Friday, May 18, 2018 Comments Off

Before our colleague pointed out that you shaved your face clean, I noticed it first this morning.

Seeing you with that freshly shaven face with clean-cut hair, I felt a certain kind of betrayal. A betrayal which I am not allowed to feel under any capacity -- a certain kind of betrayal that only works when you are officially attached to the other person. A feeling that is not mine to have yet I feel it all the same. Similar to how you can never be mine but I am overflowed with what I am feeling for you.

Seeing you made me recall all the things that I want to do with you. All I want is only simple things, like running my fingers through your tousled wavy hair, feeling your beard on my skin, helping you pick out that right backpack to replace your overused one, wrapping my arms around your waist while placing my head to that spot under your chin in front of your neck that was especially made for me, sharing a bottle of sake after a particularly rough week, and other domestic stuff that feels tangible but impossible at the same time.

I'm still wondering, my glorious, have you ever wondered about these domestic stuff? The kinds of which I wished for. The kinds of which I still wish I could experience all of these with you. The kinds that will only remain alive in my head perhaps until the end of time.

If the circumstances were different, would you pursue me or would you still play that mind games? Would you give us a chance? Would there any gaping noticeable space that currently exist between us? Or would we burn in flames together trying to match each other's challenges.

There are a lot of things that I want from you. Things that unfortunately cannot come to fruition.

I want more than just one glorious sunset; I want everything, the suns, the moons, the stars, all the atoms, all the raging sea, thunderous sky, calming forest, peaceful mountains, and everything in between that makes the universe of us--of you and me (decisively not you, me)

Darling you still are all my spaces, all my paragraphs, all my sentences, all my pages, and all my gaps.

I still miss you. Will always miss you.

Being 23

Saturday, February 24, 2018 Comments Off

I am here sitting in the same exact cafe in which I sat a year ago writing a certain piece—still trying to decipher everything, to unfold every single burgeoning madness that's been done to me in a span of a year. Also still trying to wrap my head around the fact that it has actually been a year. That everything the has happened to me in regards to a certain individual actually started its ruthless dance since a year ago. A lot of things changed because of that particular experience with that certain individual. To be honest, it changed almost everything, most notably my own perception about romance, relationship, and self-respect. I am forever changed because of that.

Being 23 saw me striking up a courage to tell a certain individual regarding my feelings about him, getting my first proper date and kiss, tanning my skin under Balinese sun while wondering about a certain individual's intention, being taken home a couple of times by a certain individual, going on a Eurotrip with my own money, going back home to the city that accepted me for who I am, being taught playing settlers of catan by the most accommodating and welcoming host, walking around my the said city to rediscover and relove everything, watching three of my ultimate favourite bands that had been with me through all chapters of my young adult life, being mistaken as locals a number of times in scandinavian countries, publishing two chapbooks containing glimpses of my heartbreaks and revelations, gaining my self-worth and self-respect, losing weight, buying myself endless gifts including the long-craved pair of jeans and pink windbreaker, breaking my own heart from expecting someone to make a decision, attending my brother from another mother's wedding, hooking up with someone and actually putting my theories to use, slowly diminishing my body-image issue due to the said hook-up situation, taking myself to the hospital due to my acid reflux acting up, getting my heart broken endlessly by two males that shared the same name, receiving a life-changing information about my best friend, winning a much-needed new phone, taking trips back to my birth town, buying a proper speaker for my room, wining and painting beauty and the beast's signature rose, dyeing my hair copper, and most importantly, taking care of myself when no one else was there.

By being 23, there was a lot of things that I discovered, uncovered, rediscovered, learned, unlearned, relearned, thought, rethought, loved, unloved, reloved, built, broke, rebuilt, found, lost, and everything else in between. These things wouldn't be possible if I did not try to help myself after losing myself in shambles of heartbreaks and disappointments. It would not have been possible to go through it if I did not stay with myself through better or worse situation. The form of love that I have for myself is the only thing that keeps me going through whatever the condition that I have to endure.

Thank you, 23, you were tiring, but there were so many gems that I discovered—mainly about myself. I wouldn't have traded every experience that I'd gone through last year for anything in the world.

Hello, 24, what do you have in store for me? Please be good to me. I only hope for positive things this year. Or at least positive attitudes in dealing with whatever life throws at us this year.

Wreckage of Unmanned Ship

Monday, February 12, 2018 Comments Off

Just like you, my friends asked me, "Was it ever love?"

It got me pondering about the implication if it was love, or if it was not love.

If it was the latter one, wouldn't it be dismissing our feelings, interactions, and eye-contacts that we have given each other. Wouldn't it be dismissing the tension, the push and pull that the Universe had made us do these past two years. Wouldn't it be dismissing the chemistry that we seemed to have. Wouldn't it be dismissing every experience that we had due to it, everything that we did not share with each other, everything that was kept in dark silence, everything that was soundlessly whispered to the void, everything that we hoped was simultaneously shared to and kept from each other. Wouldn't it be dismissing to us as an unnamed joined entity and as our own person. Wouldn't it be dismissing each other.

But, if it was love. Who could be sure. Who could explain it to me truly that it was love. Who could explain it to me that what we had was romantic love. Who could tell me that love actually was consist of silent treatments, misunderstandings, and dishonesty. Who could tell me that the secrets we refused to share to each other—the very same secret that we whispered to the void—were what made it love. Who could tell me that the longings that couldn't leave my mouth and my heart were because of love. Who could tell me that all the late-night self-destructive wonderings that I experienced was a deliberate form of love. Who could tell me that all these lonely moments where we were left alone with our self-deprecating thoughts was a direct result of love. Who could tell me that trying to dismember our homesickness from ourselves by attaching ourselves to another person was a form of love. Who could assure me that wreckage of unmanned and purposeless ship that we found ourselves in was the result of love.

Would it still be called love if we have to prove its existence? Would it still be called love if it could only rob ourselves off of happiness?
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