Archive for January 2011

Next Chapter: Despair.

Saturday, January 29, 2011 Comments Off

I.
"I never tasted love you know…"
"All of my loved ones are either gone or didn't love me back…"
"Let me rephrase that, all of my loved ones didn't love me back, so noone… ever love me."

II.
"I was born with sadness. And grief. When I was supposed to grow, I was forced to survive mentally. When I was supposed to laugh, I was dealing with how to conceal tears in public. When I was supposed to have a childhood, I was learning how to fake a smile."

III.
"People say I'm strong not to easily cry like that. But the truth is… I do cry. At night, in the dark with nothing but my music on. People say I'm strong, but I'm not… it's years of practice and it's like… riding a bicycle for some people, it's in the muscle memory. People say I'm tough, but the truth is that I only conceal things better than most of the girls of my age."
"I was supposed to have fun you know… but… I didn't. I was busy surviving from mental abuse…"

IV.
"I know you may think I'm ungrateful. I know you may think I don't consider myself as a blessed person, but it is what it is. I know I sometimes bragged about how unloved I am, it's not because I want to seek attention from all of you so that you all can tell me that you love me, which is a straightforward lie, but I do feel unloved. I feel like people are pushing me and hating my guts. I mean, how can you feel you're worthy or you're smart and have a great personality if you feel unloved by all? All I know is that people care about me, but caring for someone else doesn't mean that you love that person, it just mean that you're a nice person."
"I mean… for years and years I lived with great sorrow, so when people say that they love me, I don't believe them, because I believe that they are lying."

V.
"I'm not smart. I'm not pretty. I'm not anything. I'm like one of those unpopular girls that can only be seen in the cafeteria in Mean Girl, I'm like one of those customers in The Plaza Hotel in Home Alone… I'm noone. Noone ever appreciate me, noone ever thanked God that I existed, noone ever grateful that I was there. Nobody ever feel like I'm beautiful or great or smart or even just… nice."
"And when I was surviving, I was doing it alone. With noone by my side. When I cried, nobody comforted me, when I was doing difficult things, nobody helped me… so I learned to depend on myself, not with anyone. Because those people, who I thought could help me, didn't want to know my problems at all. So I was trained by the nature to survive alone."

VI.
"When girls of my age were trying to be famous and perfect and have boyfriends and be those girls that boys talked about, I can only be that girl in the corner of the room, that looked so happy because her friends are happy, but inside I'm falling apart. I wasn't pretty, I wasn't smart, I wasn't attractive enough… I was weird. I still am. I was weird, odd-looking, fat, and unloved and so moody. I couldn't control myself, I mad at people easily… because one of the things that kept me survived was being angry.  I know it's wrong. I know it's not right to be mad… but I don't know what else to do, because I had no guidance, I had noone that could hug me in times when I couldn't handle things on my own."

VII.
"I know people must have think that I'm wrong doing this. Complaining when I should be thankful. But I'm not complaining here, I'm telling a story, about a girl who survived alone. So should I rotten and die? Oh, have I told you about a void in my heart?"

Limited.

Saturday, January 15, 2011 Comments Off

You’re in love.
You’re in love with him.
Yes. Him. A body that bears great personalities and wicked mind, a soul that holds up so many ideas and unimaginable things. A person. An adorable person.
He’s not perfect. No. No. We all know he isn’t. He has flaws. Beautiful flaws like those traces of magenta stains on the lace tablecloth or like the cold feeling of the ocean in the morning. He’s beautiful in his own way.
Actually, you aren’t either. You are only a human being, who is far from perfect. But the result of you to collided together will become somewhat beautiful or lovely, like you always to say to him.


Your first meeting with him, oddly enough, filled with speeches and words and awkwardness. You weren’t there for the speech contest, you were supporting your best friends and your then-boyfriend, so was him, he was there for his then-girlfriend. At first sight, you thought he was like one of those boys in your school, who have very limited amount of knowledge, because, frankly, he does look like one. His then-girlfriend suprisingly won the competition, she was smart after all, but it didn’t look like she could beat your then-boyfriend, but she did. Your then-boyfriend met you at the backstage where all of the contestants were pouring over her, congratulate her. You knew then that she was your then-boyfriend childhood friend, so he introduced you and her and also her then-boyfriend. You sulked on your journey home. How could your then-boyfriend failed to mention about that?

You broke up with your then-boyfriend after thousands seconds of thinking that he wasn’t worth the time and the fights, your relationship with your then-boyfriend wasn’t great after all. Months later, you found yourself happy. Content with your own. You were alone, but you didn’t think that you were lonely. You met him again. Your now boyfriend. You met him at your favorite library that holds vintage books. You were strolling in science-fiction section, the only section where all of the books were still hold in place, when you saw him reading 2001: A Space Odyssey. You squealed. Not because you know him, but because you were looking everywhere for that book.

“Um, excuse me, are you going to borrow that book or are you going to read it here.” you asked.
“Here.” he said coldly.
You waited for him to give you the book, but he seemed to keep reading it. “So… you are going to read it in here, right?”
He nodded lightly and you left him alone.

You strolled around another section. Romance. By the looked of the books there, they are quite like Jane Austen met Nicholas Sparks. You loved and adored Jane Austen, but you couldn’t seem to read any of the books there because what you wanted was 2001: A Space Odyssey. You randomly pick a book and read it in the huge washed-pink velvet sofa at the intersection of Fantasy and Horror. Far end of the sofa was an eldery woman reading Twilight book, you didn’t even know how can an eldery woman knew about Twilight and why the Twilight book was in this library on the first place. You didn’t mind. She was a good company, you thought.

As you reached the page twenty of the book, you realized that the book is good after all. The book was about a girl who murder someone when she was young and turned out he was her future husband that travelled back in time. It was actually good, you thought. It was a mix of romance and thriller and horror and science-fiction. You loved science fiction and still do.

You didn’t realize that you spent three hours in that library until you heard your stomach growled. You were hungry. One of human’s basic needs. You need food. And some hot chocolate would be nice. So off you went to the restaurant next to the library and ordered lunch while enjoying the view. You saw people walking, running, talking to each other, riding bicycles, you saw a group of teenage girls giggling over a groud of teenage boys, you saw a cute eldery couple sharing ice creams… you captured it all in your memory while you stirring your coffee.

Interestingly and weirdly, someone tapped on your back. You turned your head and noticed it was the guy with Arthur C. Clarke’s book.
“Here. I’ve finished it.” he said while putting the book on your table and sitting down in the chair in front of you.
You were speechless. Not because he read it very fast, not because he knew where you were but because you knew him. “You are…” you said while trying to figure out his name.
“Charlie. Charles Key.” he introduced himself.
"I know you.” you said while pointing your index finger at him.
He smiled. “I know.”
“But… aren’t you… I…”
“I’m your ex-boyfriend’s friend ex-boyfriend.”
“I know, but… huh? You broke up with her? Oh so that’s why… oh right…” you knew it. You knew from the first time that she was your rival, not your friend and she wasn’t really “friend” with your now ex-boyfriend.
“It makes sense now, isn’t it?” he asked and smiled. His caressed his jaw.
You nodded. You only nodded.
“May I have the pleasure eating lunch with you?” he asked.
You smiled and said, “Of course... please.”
He ordered what you ordered, spaghetti meatball. You smiled at the thought that you two could possibly be a match, now you know it’s true.
“So… you like Arthur C. Clarke?” he asked while lighting his smoke. “Is it alright if I smoke?”
You nodded. “Well, I haven’t read his works, but I found the movie quite interesting, so I’m curious about the book.”
“Oh.” he said while inhaling the smoke. He blew the smoke away. “Which other science fiction writers do you like?”
You squealed inwardly. Finally, you thought. Someone that wasn’t disgust with her choices. “I like Douglas Adams.”
“Oh… Hitchhiker is nice.” he said. “I like Neil Gaiman,”
You laughed. Badass looking guy like him… loved Gaiman?
“I don’t think you can categorize Gaiman into science fiction though.” you commented.
And you both went into the greatest first conversation in history, and yourstory.

You smiled at the memory. Oh how time has changed. Moving and spinning so fast you don’t even know. You couldn’t even breath. As you stand up from your single flower-embroided sofa and stare at the people outside. They are laughing and eating finger foods that you made. You feel movements behind you and someone grabs you lightly by waist and holds you close.
“What are you doing inside? They are waiting for you outside…” he says in whispers
You put your hand above his that rests on your waist. “Just a moment.”
He kisses your forehead and leads you outside to the garden.
You see a girl running to you and squealed, “Grandma!!! Happy birthday.”
You smile and hold up the little girl that resembles you when you were in her age. “Thank you, honey.”
“I love you, grandma,” she hugs you, you feel warmth of her body and by then you realize… you lived a nice life anyway. And you will always, always love him.

[exoskeletons]

I Don't Mind The Shadows

Saturday, January 1, 2011 Comments Off


Yo La Tengo - Shadows
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