Archive for 2013


Saturday, December 28, 2013 Comments Off

Finding sanctuary amidst chaos is my definition of being in a relationship. The sanctuary that looks, feels, tastes the way it portrays from the outside point of view. Sanctuary as it is. Sanctuary that does not expect you to act like a messiah or a servant. Sanctuary that bends and fluctuates the way the chaos demands it to. Sanctuary that gives you proper housing and feeds you nourishing food.

Some cases (for the importance of their reputations and those that they associate with, I will not give out their name or other detail features about their cases) of relationship that I know tend to make one partner as the dominating actor, while the other as someone that could serve them with everything and anything that they currently please to have. It's hard to find other type; the type of relationships where they could just kiss and hug each other at random moments, say "I love you" when the other makes such good meals, wear sweatpants and oversize sweaters in front of each other, or even buy same the detergent so that they could smell like each other. It's hard to find functioning relationships which regard the people that create it as equals and humans without the expectations of having startlingly good-looking prince with nice abs that is multi-linguist as your partner or having exceptionally humble princess that can eat nice desserts without having to change her clothing size from zero to something shockingly bigger.

Being with someone without the awkwardness, during both sober and drunk states, is hard. Finding words that could mend the inconvenient silent is hard. Finding someone that you can get comfortable with is hard. It's easier to find people who only need the simplicity of one night stands. It's easier to find people who only need relationships just because they want to have one; not because they crave the connection that could have with another people. It's easier to find people who only want to have connections that are based on their sexual/physical preferences. It's
easier to find people who only want simple relationship where they use each other because they both probably don't have the time, place, money or affection to make it otherwise.

I want to feel full connection with someone. Not just because they want to "try" to get me, not just because they want to "taste" me, not just because they find me appealing, not just because they find me adequate for their taste, not just because I substitute someone else's spot in their life; but because I can pour myself (soul, thoughts, cravings, tastes, dislikes, fears, phobias and ideals) to someone without having them to spit me out like I am tasteless expired food. And vice versa.

I want to wake up knowing that I am fighting alongside with someone. That I battle this world's chaotic insanity with my fellow comrade who may or may not know more about the fields than I do (preferably more).

It's easier to write words, like this, about things that I want or I need. But it's harder to find the person that could match up all the expectations.

So please, come home soon. So I could get to know you again, listening to your fears and hysterias, talk about our future that is creeping up on us; and we can build sanctuary together.

Winter Playlist

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Say you'll be here soon.

You left me with nothing but this heavily empty place that is devoid of you. It is hard to find a match to that exact human-shaped void to fill it--it's hard to find another person that could fill out the space that you left. Some of them are too small; not in the physical way, mind you, since some of them are even taller than our tallest friends, but because these exclusively close to gigantic people cannot even relate to my movie taste (something that you and I consider as a serious matter when we are learning about someone) so how could they relate to me in other major topic that is future-related? These small people lack of that certain carefreeness about the present and that certain seriousness regarding their actual plan about their future. That is why they are small. While the others are too big. They cannot fit. Sometimes it's because they are too serious, or sometimes it's because they just cannot understand the importance of relaxing--some of them plan about things too far and too soon. These people are not you.

With you, I can talk about numerous of things. Whether it's a serious topic ("Well, yeah, honestly... this country is the best, I actually can prove it to you in 25 different reasons, will you hear me out?" or "Really, education is the key. I mean, I think, parenting is another great ingredient, but not as important as education, you know?" in which I retorted, "But... don't you think great parenting is also good. I mean, there are some people that cannot afford good education but their parents love them and teach them with everything that they know, but they turned out okay." but you always could shut me up because afterwards you told me "But, babe, we are talking about the real world here. Not one of those soap operas. These people cannot make it far if they are not educated as well.") or anything but ("You know, I prefer this kind of scary movie. Gory and whatnots. I hate spooky stuff, you know?" or "I just came across this really good TV series, you should see it!").

I miss that small little details of our lives that interwove with each other. I miss having this particular ease with someone. Can you understand? Since you left I can't find anyone that I can get comfortable with. Someone that I can almost connect completely with. I miss being comfortable with someone.

My friends and my parents continuously ask me to find someone new. Someone that isn't you. Someone that I should get to know from the beginning. Back to square one. Finding out their secrets (like you with your fear of heights), their favourite dessert (I know yours: banana split), their favourite brand to buy sweater (remember that day when you took me out for buying that light yellow GAP sweater of yours), their favourite horror/thriller movies (yours: The Uninvited, Silent Hill and Scream franchise), their favourite rappers if they like that genre (yours: Talib Kweli) and other minuscules details about their persons. And I have no idea how to react if their minuscule details cannot at least 60% link with mine.

I am trying, please believe me. I am honestly fighting to find someone that I can connect with. But all I see is that they are not you--they cannot relate to me the way you do. I know that we were once strangers too, we would not become like this if fate did not bump us with each other. But it's hard.

It's hard getting to know other person when they don't want to be a part of you. When they don't want to mesh well together with you. When they think that their details are much more important than mine. When they are not willing to compromise. When they think they know the best, for themselves, or even for me. It's hard being with other people that cannot match my pace and my way of thinking. It's hard being with people that are not you.

So, please. Come home soon.

Never Be

Monday, December 9, 2013 Comments Off

Sorting through all of my posts for the last five years (it has been that long) I can only conclude one thing... all of those posts that were caused by my sleep-deprived head are all about you.

It's funny how time changes one's perspective. How, all through that years, you've been actually staring at the truth right on its twisted face--and you've failed to see the sign. That everything does move in circles.

And wouldn't it be beautiful if we are actually meant to be and my soul was yearning for yours all those years because at one point it had found you and then it had to feel lost again when you left?

And it is just me right now,
thinking alone, growing up alone, staying alive alone,
with bleary-eyed, sleep-deprived, worn-around-the-edges soul.

"even if I stole him control him dictate him indoctrinate him fix him convince him,
I'll never be his own."

Colder Than Your Winter

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"It's autumn, it makes people depressed."

But it's winter now and Moscow is having a blast because of the "totally warm, I promise you" -5 degree Celsius weather. And how do you feel? Does the winter time reminds you of how the sun used to feel like when it caresses your skin in a womanly, lovingly, soft touches? Does it remind you that everything has it highs and lows, even human nature? Does the droning of the snows bless you with hope that it too shall melt away one day? Does daylight savings remind you of your heart being clenched so painfully in order for you to remember that it's a long day ahead? Does barely-warm food that you cook late at night smell like the ones we ate years ago? Is there any girl that smells like me?

Was that gesture, that particular gesture that indicates no sense of belonging, suppose to cut all of our ties? The tightly knitted bond we've managed to create throughout the years? Was there anything more than that, love? Is there any reason why you would not just go to the front of your computer and write me something small but soulfully warm? Are you giving this bond up for something that you don't have in the past, in order for you to have something big in your present, wherever you are? Are you staying away from this bond, cutting it down with a sharp knife that you called "an act of returning personal belongings to its respective owners"? Will you continue to do this until the memories of us--laughing at something and getting scared of what we've been watching--blur away and spin out of proportion, turning into ashes and fading away into something that you only remember distantly? Will you greet me, if we ended up in a same town and time after all these years, when you bump into me in a packed tube with me listening to my iPod (as always) and you playing games on your phone (as always)? Will you stop and stare and say "hi, I missed you, you look a lot different" or will you just move away, since you feel like you no longer know me and I am just another soul-carrying vessel that you once shared your thoughts, laughters, breaths, food, and spaces? Will you remember me more than the knit cardigan-wearing girl with her headphones on? Somehow, I doubt you would.

And to end this exhaustingly long post,
to quote my friend's brother,
"If I love you enough to let you go, will you love me enough to come back"

Fast-Track Love

Sunday, November 17, 2013 Comments Off

Perhaps the reason why us girls tend to romanticize love to the point of delusion and hallucinations is because the fact that all of the romantic-comedy these days tend to end happily. Don’t get me wrong, I endorse the happy endings with the same amount of devotion I have towards tea, but the thing is all of those love stories always give you the idea that having relationships (that includes the declarations of mutual love, mutual dislikes, adorations and admirations) can be gained briskly like those fast-track ticket you can have in those amusement parks. But the truth is, it’s not. Delusional or not, girls nowadays want those fast-track love, like those that the media has recently created in the form of two-hours movies.

Especially when those girls realize that their friends—the seemingly uninterested in love and relationships or perhaps the unattainable due to their personal choice of being picky—are using their fast-track tickets and enjoying it. Can these girls actually survive?

And what about the girls that want to take the relationship in normal pace? The girls who enjoy living it in the right way? Where can they get their share of love? Where can any single girls, with any personal preferences, get their match nowadays? Where can I find my match? And when I have found it, what should I do with it when it does not want to have anything to do with me, or when it actually decides to leave? What should I do when I decide I have enough of trying (and fighting)? What should I do when the world decides that any kind of love (be it fast track, normal pace, or even a la Carrie Bradshaw one) is not for me? Is there any way to just know what would you get in the future? Is there any way to revoke your God-given ability to have the hope of having love?

It’s a waste of time and feeling. I can’t keep on mulling over something that has not happen or something that would not even happen any time soon (or ever). It is deterring everything, especially my learning. These songs could not help me anymore as lately the reality is much stronger than those thoughts-numbing songs, I can still hear the wheels in my head turning. How can I be one of those women that do not think about anything but work? How can I be a part of people that constantly have their self-destroying thoughts at bay? How can I stop destructing myself with my own thoughts? When can I stop plaguing myself with my mind that keeps thinking about how lonely my soul is? When can I stop fighting by myself?

What am I hoping for, exactly?

Reality Check

Wednesday, November 13, 2013 Comments Off

Most of the women population always romanticise everything to the point of delusion, to the point that they dream about that constant nagging present in her mind. To the point that I dream of you four days straight. Were they the manifestations of what I've been thinking about lately, or were they just images of what had happened in the past? Any one of them could be true, but all I know is that you would never know about this.

Because you are (and always will be) away from here.
Away from home.
Away from me.

Oh, and self, looking at facebook photos won't change a thing.

L'incroyable Vérité

Monday, November 4, 2013 Comments Off

"You were supposed to heal on your own, it is the personal purpose of living and, above all else, surviving. And never forget, all the things that you have done has everything to do with what is happening to you right now."

I miss you.
I miss talking to you; I miss being with you.
I miss being me when I'm with you.

I'm sorry I was stupid not to see the possibilities of being with you. I was stupid enough not to understand that, if I had insisted upon it, there were chances of us to fall in love--that me and you were the perfect match, how weird you possibly thought of it right now. Because right now we are different people of who we used to be, and if there is a possibility that we meet, you wouldn't like me for who I am right now and vice versa. The reason is not as poetic as Murakami's books, but it saddens me more than his books. I can't have you now when I understand you could be someone that is more compatible with me than any other guys out there that I know. I can't be with you. You are not here.

Maybe we are destined to solve our lives first. To go where we are supposed to headed, instead of just staring idly at the world as it goes by. We should find the best place to stay and the best place to live. Yes, to live, not just to survive. And perhaps when we are complete, we'll find each other again. Under the falling leaves and finally living together under the same roof. Not just connected with the vast blue sky like we are right now.

And maybe, someday
we'll fall in love.
The way we supposed to,
years and years ago.

I miss you.
And I think I'm already never going to fail you.

2023: Camille, 01

Tuesday, October 8, 2013 Comments Off

Camille just got back from the headquarter of one of the most prominent and renowned magazines in the industry to submit her article of the month. Now she was walking to the cafe part of her establishment and sat down on one of the chairs. Anna the clerk immediately brought a cup of hot tea and a small portion of dark chocolate cake with darjeeling tea ice cream to her table and smiled at the boss tentatively.

"Everything's swell, boss?" asked the red-haired Anna.
Camille only sighed and waved her hands. "It is what it's supposed to be. I still have to meet a friend of mine after this to consult about the interior designs for the new apartment."
"Are you going to supervise the children playdate this afternoon, ma'am? And would it still be in the bookstore? Or should we move it to library?"
"Yes, but only until 2, then I'm off. So, I would like you to handle the necessary things after I left. As for the place, have they told your about how many people that will attend the party?"
"From what I've noted down, there would be 15 children at most with 8 adults."
"Do it in the bookstore, then. Ask the guys to set the place up, you know the drill, right? What about tomorrow's acoustic musical performance?"
"We've contacted the band, they're willing to bring their own sets, so we would just have to provide the small stage and some of the chairs. The band and their roadies would come to prepare the stage at sometime between 7 and 8 tomorrow morning. Is that okay?"
"Of course. Please make sure that they have proper breakfast, give them our famous breakfast meals, ask them to choose and tell them it's on the house."
Anna nodded eagerly, smiled to her boss and then left the boss alone.
Camille slumped to the back of her chair. It was going to be a seriously long day.

After making sure that her children party would go smoothly without her, she left to the other part of the city by taking a cab. Her interior designer friend Viviane was ready to take her to stroll the artsy space of the city, some underground scenes that would starkly contrast with her current minimalist design; Camille was one for new taste, even though she already had to much on her palate.
Arriving at her friend's gallery, she straightened her summer-ready outfit (similarly patterned top and skirt with neon pink platform heels and neon yellow bag) and headed inside the colourful building. Camille spotted her pink-haired friend quickly and ran to her.
"Petra!" she greeted, kissing her left and right cheeks.
"Hi, sweetheart!" the quirky artist briefly hugged her friend and observed her friend's outfit. "Why look at you! You look like my gallery! All colourfully presented to people out there! Not everyone's taste, but still… bold and brave, 'tis exactly why I love you."
Camille took in her tasteful friend's outfit excitedly. "So are you! You're always full of surprises. Loving it."
Petra twirled. "Anyways, where do you want us to go first?"
Camille shrugged. "I don't actually know."
"Ah, just let me guide you, okay?"

Camille and Petra had just finished their furniture shopping. Petra took her to the places that she had mentioned and some more. Conclusively, Camille brought four sofas (all with different intricate design but nonetheless would mix well together), glassy maroon dining table with dining chairs of similar fashion, and others in form of fabrics that she would turn into some things that she could not find during their ventures. The items she had purchased would be sent to the new apartment by the end of the week, but she was already impatient for them to arrive because she wanted to design the space as immediate as she can. However, patience was her greatest virtue and she would gladly wait for the things to arrive; besides, if she was not patient, she would not standing where she was right now.

Physically and presently, she was standing in the middle of her favourite park in the city after getting ceremoniously dropped off there by Petra. Metaphorically, though, she was in the best place she could possibly be. Wandering around the trees with a cup of ice tea she just purchased from a stand near the largest tree in the park, she swam in her memories of how she first got to that point in her life.

Camille had actually been in the foreign country before. She was a young girl then, she was on the cusp of adulthood when an opportunity presented itself and showed her this magnificent country that was quite far away from her home. Back then, her perceived image of the country was perfect, or at least almost flawless enough to make her think that if one day she moved to the country, she would be infinitesimally content with what she would have then. Plus, she was especially happy because all the moments and memories that she created were sublime enough to make her feel like it was what she had been looking for all her life; an encounter with a certain favorite idol of her was also another additional thing that she loved about her time in that country.

But the same could not be said when she first actually moved in. It was harsh. She did not know anyone from her native continent that lived there and she looked young enough to be implicitly judged as someone without working experiences even though she had given them her CV with great credentials and letters of recommendation from her former bosses. Perhaps it was not enough for the locals. Camille had to have two jobs in order to make ends meet, but they were in the basic form of what she had now; her main job was as a contributing writer and staff at the aforementioned magazine empire, while her side job was like Anna, a waitress. She had to struggle to balance both jobs in the first year, but the years afterwards went smoothly like the pavement she was walking on right now.

Someone's bike honk pulled her out of her reverie. Smiling sheepishly and retorting an apology in the local language, she walked to the third house from the right and opened the doors. Camille was greeted with the minimalism of the space and the peace it brought to her soul. Camille passed the many doors and went to the kitchen, preparing dinner that consisted of spinach ravioli with diced chicken and special crème sauce that her mother taught her.

Making meals reminded her of her days as waitress, how she was so inexperienced and somewhat clumsy with taking orders; nevertheless her days as waitress had finally paid off and the basis of how she should treat her employees because, with her silent partner, she opened her cafe/library establishment that she called “Petrichor” and was awarded as one of the most hospitable joints in the country. She was pessimistic at first at her prospect of focusing more on her cafe/library, but her fear diminished when she was promoted to freelance writer at the magazine and occasional fashion stylist contributor. All was well for her career.

But not her present physical being.

She was missing something. Something big.

But that something just walked in their home. That something was her special someone. Someone that was looking tired, and sagged himself on top her body with his head on the crook of her neck and his arms around her waist. The only someone that was her silent partner, her brute-looking human, her spoiled counterpart, her movie spoiler, her father's music partner, her mother's driver, her brother's sparring partner, her passionate sleeper, her future planner, her best debater, her chef, her bear hugger, her tea brewer, her coffee drinker, her one and only, her dessert eater, her bargainer, her adviser, her mind-reader, her beta-reader, her loner, her missing piece, her number one supporter, her go-getter, her know-it-all, her logical side, her Colonel Brandon, her Mr. Big, her Logan Echolls, her Prince Adam, her mind, her soul, her everything. Most importantly, he was her husband. And no one could take that title away from her.
“How's your day, love?” Camille asked her husband.
Nikolas sighed to her shoulder. “Don't want to talk about it.”
“But, Niko, we agreed to talk about things that stuck inside our head all day.”
Nikolas pulled his head and stood up straight. Looking at her deeply and smiled unfeignedly, “So let's talk about you then...”
He leaned down to her ear and whispered, “Because you're the one thing that's stuck inside my mind all day.”
Camille pushed back her husband and kissed his prominent aristocratic nose, “Smooth-talker!”
“But you love me.” he countered, snaking his arm around her shoulders.
“That I do. And so do you.”
“So do I.” he said, finally kissing her on her lips.
"I'll never fail you." she said.
"I'll never fail you." he countered.
He was everything that she had always imagined in her dreams, and more.

And did she tell you that she was pregnant with his child?

2023: True 01

Saturday, September 21, 2013 Comments Off

True opened her eyes and stared at the ceiling for a brief moment. And then she turned her head, smiling at the sight.

A little boy was sleeping soundly next to her. His eyelashes were curled naturally on top of his cheeks. His thick pink lips were opened slightly. His dark blonde mop of hair was tousled because of the tossing and turning during the night. He was so exhausted yesterday because of all the runnings and the crying he did during his first class. Her cute button-nosed son fell asleep the instant he reached her bed.

True turned to her right and sighed, her husband had yet to come home.

Phi Phi Island this time, he said. It was not far from their resident country, but it was still too far for her to just phone him to come back home in the next few minutes. She knew he had to work, it was where his passion lied, but she still wished that she could have him home at times. But being the wife of a big shot television documentary persona, she could not be whiny, even though at times she had to deal with her Liam acting out because he missed his dad.

One day, she was asked by her supervisor to publish a special documentary about the lives of the local Thai people, especially the ones in Phuket. As the most junior in the entertainment business, especially in daytime television, she was the first one to be "sacrificed" and she was obliged to go to Phuket for a whole month in order to shoot the documentary. She flew to Phuket with only clothes on her back, some IDs and few necessary details about the people who were picking her up in the international airport.

When she landed, the first face she saw, apart from the random forgettable local people, was his. He was smiling brightly and holding up a sign with her name on it. Wearing a short-sleeved tropical shirt and short khakis, he looked like a lost foreigner, while in fact, he probably knew the place better than the locals. Greeting her with a giant smug, he took some of her luggages and led her to the parking lot.

As it turned out, there were only the two of them. The idea of the documentary was true and proper documentary, where people actually shoot without script; not the same kind that those people called "reality show". The documentary was pure, handheld, no editing apart from the lighting, and was aired at the same day it was shot.

During that whole month, when they were not on air, he taught her everything he knew, and in return, she gave him the attention she needed while occasionally making him home cooked meals that he often craved during his travels all around the world.

Then, love set in, like unplanned beautiful sunsets they captured during the trip.

And seven years later, here she was, with her cute little man waiting for her other man to come home. Slowly rising up from her bed, she started her day.

After heading out to the kindergarten and dropping Liam off, she went straight to her office and started working on her latest script for a certain talk show that she was supervising. The script only needed some touchings here and there, however, she couldn't help but feel like there was something missing with it. Tinkering a few paragraphs here and there, she tied her hair, an obvious sign that she was thinking and fighting ideas with herself inside her head.

She was so engrossed with her work, she almost forgot that she had a special lunch date with her siblings who just jumped in to the working life. A small smile was placed upon her lips. They were so eager to grow up, they sometimes forgot that their sibling and their parents were growing old. In spite all of that, she still loved her younger brother and sister. Now that they were living in the same country after the twins decided that they would find better job there, they often had special lunch date where the three of them would just talk about anything and everything during their extended lunch time.

They were going to have lunch at this new cafe that her brother discovered during one of his hiatus in-between jobs days. It was a snug little place with extended selection of coffee, tea and finger foods that the three siblings loved. True was secretly liking the idea of having a cafe of her own that she could pass on to Liam, but not right now. These days, her focus was only divided into two: her family life and her job. To have something else that needed constant attention would only lead her to permanent insanity.

When she arrived at the cafe, her inseparable siblings were already sitting there, gulping their favourite drinks and taking few mouthful bites of bitterballen. True apologised instantly because of her lack of attention to her surroundings when she was working on something.

"Have you guys ordered me lunch?" she promptly asked.
The youngest of them, Gwen, smiled at her sister. "Yes. Your favourite, of course."
"Thank you." True gave them a genuine smile. "How's everything? Tell me. How's ma and pa?"
Gwen's smiled faltered. "Ma's not doing so great, True. Last time we were home, her blood sugar is rising up again. Have you spoke to her lately?"
True bit her bottom lip. The last talk she had with her mother ended up with her holding up the phone first because of her mother's incessant chatter about having a sibling for Liam. It was still a sore topic for her since she had miscarried two years after she had Liam. Sighing loudly, she shook her head. "Haven't, Gwen. She yelled at me to get another baby, but it's still hard for us, for me."
Craig smiled reassuringly and took True's hands. "It's okay, sis. We understand. We love you the same. How's Liam? Haven't seen the cutest teacup human since last month. Why didn't you take him with you?"
"He's having a blast lately since his crush, Anna, likes him back. She gave him some candy last week. So, I'm currently in no position to drag him away from school even though sometimes I just want to."
Gwen laughed and Craig chuckled. "Obviously. Anything new?"
"I'm pregnant and Raleigh does not know." True blurted.
The black-haired twins had the same expression on their head; mouth hanging open. Craig was the first one who recovered, he replied, "How far along are you?"
True sighed. "Almost six weeks."
"So you already has it even a month before he left?" asked the buttoned-nose sister.
True could do a quick nod. After a short while, she proceeded to talk about the reason behind it: Raleigh didn't want to have another kid.

True just finished making dinner when she received a text message
"Why didn't you tell me you were pregnant?

2023: Rosie 01

Tuesday, September 10, 2013 Comments Off

"Sir, you have a two-hour lunch today at the Hilton with Mr. Jacob from MacKenzie, Lucas and Jacob. After that meetings with Mr. Walt, Ms. Nikki and Ms. Bennet at 3 pm, 4 pm, and 5 pm, respectively. And then dinner with Alejandro at 7 pm. I've booked a table at the Savoy, don't worry, sir. Alejandro has given me a hint that you should wear that Armani dark grey tux with the charcoal Italian shoes, because it's a waltz night." she informed.
The ex-model CEO chuckled quietly. "Has your friend always been this lovely?"
Rosie whipped back her thick long hair and smiled to the magazine mogul. "Of course, Mr. Winger. Since college he has always planned everything in detail, down to the colour of his undies."
"Good to know, Rosalie. How about you, what are you going to do tonight? It's valentine's day after all." asked her chiseled-face boss.
The woman that embodied secretary pretended to think for awhile, when she knew what she was going to do that night. "Dinner with Walt, of course. Don't know where, but he said it'd be fabulous."
"How's your Rosie's Roast? Still up and running?"
Rosie nodded eagerly. "Yes, It's been doing well. Thanks for asking. I may not have a kid, but that shop is my true baby."
"Yeah, Alejandro told me. Now get back to your desk, I don't want those people to start asking question about us."
The matriarch woman laughed and started to walk away. "Like they would believe you can cheat from Alejandro with me. They'd found my body in the back of an alley if you ever do."

Rosie had lied.

It was not the first time she had lied to people, but it was the first time she had ever lied to her boss. To Alexander. To Alejandro's Alexander. To her close friend's partner--almost husband, from what she had heard. It was a big deal. Keeping something from Alexander meant that she also had to keep secret from Alejandro. And for her, it was something that did not come easily. She may never told her friends about everything, but she could never be able to hide something this big.

Rosie actually had a daughter. Her name was Louise, after her previous husband's wife that died of cancer. Her previous husband had already died due to a plane crash several years ago when Louise was only two. Now that Louise was almost six, she often questioned her mother the whereabout of her dad. Asking her insistently why Darcy was not her actual dad. Asking why she had two dads.

Gazing at the framed picture of Louise looking to the camera with her pair of doe blue eyes and small pouty lips, she sighed. It was another thing that she lied to Alex. No one in her current life knew about the existence of Darcy. Of how Darcy had taken over the father role, albeit sporadically and without clear or constant schedule the way parents shared their custody over kids. It was not like that at all. It was, in fact, as if Darcy was Louise's uncle; being present in Louise's life but without being involved too much. Darcy and her never shared a house, but she constantly shared Louise with him when she could not handle her only offspring or could not take care of her properly, she would take Louise to his place and ask Darcy to look after little Louise. Louise never minded much, she loved her Darcy. Darcy was fun, she would always say to her mother. Darcy always showed her magic tricks and baked her sweet sugarless cookies. He would take her to places that her mother would never take her to. And he would treat her ice creams! With toppings. Another thing that her mother never allowed her to take.

But Louise could never understand why Darcy was in Rosie's life in the first place. Rosie told her daughter that she met Darcy long ago, when she was just a little girl, on the verge of growing up but not yet growing old like she was right now. It was during the times when girls were looking for boyfriends and Rosie found one.

To Rosie, and to some extent little Louise, Darcy was a patriarch figure without the neediness and presence of a father that constantly bored his child. Rosie needed that kind of presence since she was a matriarch figure to all, but she was not one for herself. She wanted someone that could be her for her. And he was exactly that, even though the way life stitched him more awful than the way life stitched her.

But what life had stitched her together, he tore it apart. He broke her open and put her together again the way he knew best. The same way he put himself together. Awful, everyone thought that way, since he was obviously was more complex and scarred than her. Nevertheless, it was the way she lived, the way she coped. Life could tear her apart, tear them apart from each other, but death could never do that. Death was something that was taboo for her. Something that would not destroy them as it would never exist to her. Grief over him was something that she would not witness or experience in her lifetime. Grief of losing him to the death's loving and calming embrace would never happen to her. It was something of taboo.

Her previous husband, Chuck, accepted that. He accepted the idea that there was someone that was more important than him; that she needed someone more than him. As he did the same to her too, loving the older Louise as if she was the essence of his very soul; Rosie sometimes thought she was because she could tell that Chuck was just a shell of what a person should be. Maybe that was why she agreed to marry Chuck, apart from the part that both of them needed a legacy, needed to feel like they were needed by an innocent soul that had not been tainted by the destructions and cruelty that they both witnessed daily. Someone that could be their own personal redemption if they raised them right. Someone like little Louise.

However, Rosie knew that she had to live in the present. With Chuck long gone, she needed to feel like she was wanted by someone again. Walt came into her life through Alex. Walt wanted her in the way even Chuck had never been able to utter. It was pure want and lust. She did not mind that. Walt wasn't innocent, either. He was another scheming leech, but an insanely rich leech that could provide her with luxurious life she used to have with Chuck. Paid her vacations with Louise. Invested in Rosie's Roasted.

It was wrong, she knew. To use someone that way. But this was her life now. She had grown. She had to stay strong, at least for Louise. It was not something that she wanted, she would never dream her life had turned this way so dramatically and drastically, but she could never be selfish now. She had Louise. And she had to face reality and slap it on the face while wearing a pair of blood red stilettos.

Her smartphone rang. The smartphone that Alex had given to her on her birthday. Darcy was on the caller ID.
"Happy valentine's day, kiddo." he greeted.
Rosie could only smile half-heartedly to her phone. "You too. And happy birthday."
"Shoot, I'm 31, aren't I? I'm getting old." he said.
"Of course. I'm almost 31, too, you know." she replied. "Who are you going to spend your Valentine's Day with? I heard all the fancy restaurants are booked."
"Who says I'm gonna spend my Valentine's Day in a boring restaurant? I'm at the hospital!" he answered smoothly.
"You're what?!"
"I'm having an open-heart surgery in about fifteen minutes, this is why I'm telling you. No worries, Drew's gonna be here. He abandoned his case just to be here with me. Ain't he a nice brother?"
"Venice Hospital. Don't worry your pretty little head, I'm gonna be fine. Oh, and Louise is at my mother's. I think she is spoiling Louise like she is the granddaughter she'd never have. But, to come and think about it, she actually almost is, isn't she? With me still single and Drew is shooting blanks, Louise is her only chance to spoil someone that isn't Drew or me, or even you. But don't tell my mum, she doesn't know why I asked her to babysit Louise. The doctor is already here, by the way. So, adios."

Rosie hated Darcy with all her guts right now. She had never met anyone that was as selfish as him. He was selfish for not telling her this, not to make her at least felt like she was prepared for him if he left her. Not to make Louise felt like she was prepared for being left by her only patriarch role model. He could do whatever he liked, but not leaving her and Louise all alone. Just the same way Louise's father left them. It could not be. She could never be prepared. Death won't be something that can make him escape from her presence. Death was not something on their journey together. It just would not fit.

Rosie immediately asked to be dismissed for the rest of the day. She had to pick up Louise and go straight to the hospital, she could care less about what she was supposed to wear and where she was supposed to be tonight with Walt. She could never have him leave her this way.

As she hurriedly walked to the elevator, she met someone that she needed the most at time like this. A friend.

Five Kinds I've Witnessed, None I've Experienced

Wednesday, September 4, 2013 Comments Off

This summer I learned that there are many kinds of love. The kinds that I won't experience, the kinds that hurt others and the kinds that we keep to ourselves. These love aren't necessary ideal for everyone, and they are not even sacred. But they are real and still as precious as the kinds we were taught to know.

The first kind, poisonous love: the kind that smothers you, the kind that is undoubtedly self-destructive and killing you from the inside. It hugs you and perhaps turns into you, leaving your true soul as a ghost that inhabits your physical form. You are not dead inside, but you are surely dying, day by day. This love consumes you, makes you thirsty for more, for more love to give away, the same love that tears you apart. Your soul and your whole being are tied to this love, to a person that may never love you back or even sympathise over your darkening soul. This love needs to be destructed completely or it will succeed to overtake your being.

The second kind, eternal love: can be poisonous or tame, but this love will always be there, evolving over time and space. Fluctuates easily with you, conditions itself to how you live your life.

The third kind, never be: no matter how much you try to work it out, it can never be yours. Or perhaps, in some normal definitive cases, it's not even yours to begin with and you never try to connect with that object of your affection. Because sometimes, it is what making it exciting. It becomes sacred, beautiful, ethereal, eternal because you never act upon it. You just sit there, watch that person exists, orbiting near you or sometimes far away. One of the purest kinds there is. And perhaps, you know that the love you hold on that person will cease to exist if you try to work it.

The fourth kind, false love: you actually forgot who you love. It does not evolve, it stays that way since the beginning; but it can also never be, because people evolve--you and that other person.

The fifth kind: recurring love: like a favourite extra on a tv series, this love will only work if the object of your affection is there.


Tuesday, August 13, 2013 Comments Off

And one day
This lone path will be filled
With your laughters,
your twinkling eyes,
your dazzling sleepy eyes,
your arms around my waist,
your ever-present warmth,
and the stories of us-- of you and me.

So I will no longer be alone
on the path that overly feels like
the emptiness,
the darkness,
and the coldness
of my bleak, disfigured, melancholic

[jessica tremp: tapad og fundid]

Weekend Surprise

Monday, August 12, 2013 Comments Off

I was taken aback by my cousins insistent questions about my life, and the sudden stories that accompany them. Not as surreal as "Why didn't you bring your boyfriend to our annual family gathering?", but they indeed had myself questioning of how I should relay my thoughts into simplest of words, to become as easily digestible as air, because the deathly ideas that often overly consume me daily cannot easily expressed through simple sentences. However, I can always try.

When I tried. They came out short, and they were unable to truly explain the circumstances I'm in. It is what it has always been; we try to explain the world inside ourselves but they can only perceive the breathable and comprehendible versions of it, versions that may not be the truth as we are capable of give them such few glimpses.

Of course, it wouldn't have bothered me if I was talking to someone who won't even consider me as their acquaintance. But to think that they are my own family, flesh-and-blood, and they may have the chance to think about me in their own ways and absorb everything I said to themselves with their own experiences; each will judge me differently according to themselves and some may influence the others.

Because it is what it is in the real world, isn't it?

The sole reason for me to leave is to make myself happy, because in the end when everyone including your loved ones are gone, I can only be the one that makes myself happy; that will battle demons and overcome mourns. And the only kind of happiness that I know is the kind where I feel content just living in my own skin without having to worry about what's going to happen and who's going to judge. The kind that let me breathe without having to worry about how soon am I going to suffocate. The kind that let me fight for more. I wish to battle for myself, for my own happiness. Whatever that may be.

Don't worry my love, I'll quit doing lone battles once I found someone that can walk through walls and find his way through the maze. Don't worry.

Staying Alive For This:

Tuesday, August 6, 2013 Comments Off

  1. European men with razor-sharp cheekbones.
  2. Rainy days where you can snuggle in with your biggest warmest sweater plus a cup of hot tea with lemon.
  3. Red lipsticks--and pink/orange/purple lipsticks, lip balms, lip tints, lip products.
  4. Wild animals on the safari. The cubs and the alpha males, the beautiful females and the grass that surrounds them. The trees that stand so high they create a safe cocoon for the creatures they protect.
  5. Pink lemonades.
  6. Printed shirts with your favourite band/movie/tv series/actor
  7. Scandinavian architecture
  8. Scandinavian designs
  9. Scandinavian scenery
  10. Scandinavian boys
  11. Patterned carpets.
  12. Good books.
  13. Good music.
  14. Petrichor (see reason number 2).
  15. Stacks of rings.
  16. Large shirts over cute underwear.
  17. Good heels. 
  18. Adventures.
  19. My past. She deserves a good journey.

Black Tea.

Wednesday, July 24, 2013 Comments Off

"So, how is it?" my sister asked without preamble.
My fingers traced the edge of my teacup (two slices of lemon, black tea). I smiled, "It's been what it should feels like. It feels like what it's supposed to feel. It feels real, surprisingly normal, unpredictable, fulfilling and yet it also feels like it is the best part of me."
She took a deep breath, raising her own teacup (one block of sugar, black tea) and slowly drinking its content. "Well, honey, tell me more."
I sipped my tea, savouring the taste for a moment before answering, "He is perfect. I mean, not in the way that a perfect human, but a right individual that comes in the right time and stays in the right place. He is what I've been expecting and what I haven't been expecting. He knows about my past, not enough to make him think that I am still the person who I used to be, but enough to never judge my action because he knows what I've gone through. He knows who I am, who I was, but he keeps on supporting me to be what I need to be in the future with him by my side. Being with him feels like how it should feel, or perhaps how I've always imagined how it feels-- and more. It feels natural just to exist with him, it feels like something I have long lost and now I come across again. I don't know if the concept 'soul mates' applies in here, but we flow together perfectly, harmoniously. I don't really need to hesitate to ask or relay my thoughts because I know without a doubt that he will always listen to my thoughts and know the ways inside my head. It feels right because I feel like where I am right now, where we are right now, is the right place to be. This is what they always write about in love stories, isn't it? This is what everyone has always talked about."


Monday, July 22, 2013 Comments Off

Imagine a house.

Beautiful, for your eyes only. Furnished, with the kinds that you've always liked. Comes with a backyard that just the same to what you've always wanted it to be; be it large enough to be called as a small park or only enough to put a small jacuzzi, or perhaps none at all. You pick it, and it appears.
Imagine having it painted in colours you prefer; black, orange, teal, magenta, ruby, cyan or even leave it bare with the colour of bricks. Imagine having a room that is filled with all of your needs: infinite supply of books, cheese, tea, linens, crayons, hats, and everything that you think it might need. Imagine making food there on the kitchen that will always be clean when you enter it, a kitchen that is stocked with food. Imagine sleeping in your room; the one where you can stargaze, perhaps, or the one that only has a large bed (big enough for four) with soft comforters and uncountable plush pillows. Imagine hanging one of your favorite coats on the hanger near the front door--or better yet inside a closet. Imagine living there for a few years, integrating well with your own house, having a predictable routine that would never bore you out, resting gently without remorse, and being yourself after fighting hard battles outdoor.

Imagine, one day, coming home without anything inside. Without your trusty afghan, well-stocked fridge or any other comfort that brings you peace. Without any traces of you, of anything that had been there.

That's how it feels like when you left me: thousands of memories we've gathered (making each other's hearts as our own home) are gone, leaving me a shell of who I used to be. Me without me with you. Me without us. Me without you. Just me.


Sunday, July 21, 2013 Comments Off

I feel like I am missing out on something in life. Some unknown thrills that few had the misfortunes or the fortunes of having, depending on which they prefer. I don't know what, but I know that this certain thing must have been what make people can feel agony and joy at the same time; for I only know one thing at the time.

I don't know how long I can keep myself from crying after too many forced laughters.

And the saddest part of everything is, I could never know what cause me to feel this negative. Or at times, not feel anything at all.

Modern Cinderella

Monday, July 15, 2013 Comments Off

My friends and I got together last weekend for a private farewell that we held for one of our dearest that was leaving for her course abroad. We talked about the past and pretended that time had not flown by, changing everyone that ran over its course. We tried to recreate the past by pretending everything was still the same, jokingly suggesting that some still had feelings for each other, making no reference whatsoever about what would happen and what we would do about it in the future, rambling about and making fun of some of us.

It was probably a subconscious design by loads of us, controlling the situation in order to be the same so that whatever lies upon us in the near future could not bother us for awhile; creating a place that did not regard time or place, denying the inevitable. Forming the circumstance to ignore or decline what we were going through in the next chapter of our lives. For awhile, we were invincible, we were once again high school kids with no worry about anything or anyone; we didn't worry about hurting people or each other, we didn't even worry about the taunts we told each other because we endured them in order to pretend that everything was not in the past, that we were still going through the motion.

But, like modern Cinderella, it all faded away at Midnight with the sound of car engines and clock chimes, leaving us in a dazzling limbo state where we couldn't decide whether to continue pretending or to live in the now while facing the world at the same time. However, we couldn't keep on staying in the hazy timeless state, because family came on knocking, present caught up with us to tell the future was right around the corner, and the partners of some of us demanded to be contacted.

We had to leave it, not to forget the past or to disregard each other, but because we must continue on living with the comforting thoughts that we would always be there for each other to be whatever we need them to be, as a sacred changeless expanse where we could be what we used to be, as an anchor of the present's demons or a home to come back to from future's insanity.

So cheers, my heart, for continue on staying right next to me and does not judge me during my worst. Enjoy the journey and don't hurry. Godspeed, my loves.


Wednesday, July 10, 2013 Comments Off

Do you believe in astrology and the world they offer? Some makeup truths and makeup lies that people tell to your face in order for you to believe in the existence of such things. But sometimes, when the calculations are correct to the minuscule details, you can't help yourself but get amazed by them.

I am one of those types. I read astrology for fun and for gaining extra (sometimes unnecessary details) about me that some people in Morocco could even predict without even seeing me or meeting me in the first place (like for example: she will embark on a journey of a lifetime this year but be cautious, she wil also find obstacles on her path; aren't every journey has their own obstacles and they are what make them called journeys.) But there are some of the times when I am intrigued enough because they can perfectly described me. Like right now.

A dear friend of mind just showed her a brief analysis of herself through IM. And from what I've concluded, the analysis described her perfectly; who she is, what she is struggling, what her ideals are and what she should do. All about her in small paragraphs. It's amazing how few paragraphs can actually define or conclude the complexity of a human beings and their thoughts, isn't it?

When ideas are written by certain people (or poorly gathered from certain websites that often oversimplify/exaggerate human thoughts and ideas) sometimes it gets misplaced or misunderstood, but there are times when we can actually come across to things that are purposefully written and can be easily captured by us. And the website chooses to write it dynamically without loosing its ideas.

Conclusively, about my report and analysis of my life, it shows me that I am homebound and a communicative person. I can adress some ideas (mainly mine) easily to people and I am often regarded as someone with big opinions, plus I also like to relay my ideas to people and would be very content when they understand about what I am trying to tell people. However, in current situations, none of these can be seen. All of the people that I love (whose opinions I highly think of) cannot actually grasp what it is that I've been talking about, some of them even repress my ideas and think of it as nothing but some young woman's insane ideas. They judge me for it and for my hardheadedness about certain points. And they make me question about the concept of home, and make me question about my questioning of home. It kinds of go into a vicious cycle after that.

Sometimes, I question my sanity (or lack thereof). I am so keen on finding my own home, creating my own happiness and searching the globe for both of them because deep down I know that none of these people in here who criticise my ideas actually acknowledge of what I call home and why I am this person. I think they are just repressing the unknown, something natural, like the mother Earth itself. I can say that I respect them for having their own opinions, but I can't respect them for repressing mine or even belittle them. I am not saying all of them repress or belittle me, but I can't actually say that the majority of them understand or at least support me.

It is all what we long for isn't it? To be understood fully by someone (or if you are a typical loner like yours truly, something) that you can call him/it your home.


Tuesday, July 9, 2013 Comments Off

I need the love. I cannot be the one to blame right?
I need her skin, laid upon mine. Silky or dry. Day or night. (Preferably all day and all night).
I need her presence. Warily (and sometimes awkwardly) orbiting around my own.
I need her thoughts. Bumping furiously or warmly around my own during tv shows, theatres, or even meal.
I need her smiles. Catlike or tentative with a blush, perhaps at times transitions between both.
I need her calming hugs. All the time. Intimate, soothing, loving, or the combinations.
I need to watch her emotions play across her features. Dancing almost erotically since they tempt me to whisk her away from reality.
I need to be with her. Physically, mentally, emotionally. In order for me to stay together.

I want his thoughts.
I want his desires.
I want to be his thoughts.
I want to hold on a power on him.
 I want to feel his arms around me, comforting me.
I want him to want me.
I want him to want me, not just because he needs me, but because of who I am.
Not because for who I am for him.
I want him to love me, as much as I love him.
I want to be someone's ends, not just his means.
This is why I leave everything behind. To get myself together because apparently 
he is the one that cause me to fall apart.
V. R.

Letting Go

Friday, June 28, 2013 Comments Off

"It is a much easier, and truth to be told more feasible, to do it like this, isn't it?" she asked heartily with a smile.
Glancing down at her, he gave her a sneer. "Like you would've known!"
With a smile never left her lips, she gave him a fit of bubbly giggles and an answer, "But, actually, you don't quite know me that well, do you? I've come close to doing this, but never like this. I prefer it like this, more than any other. This is... perfect."
The guy looked at her questioningly. "I never thought you were..."
"What? Prude? Some people say that I am..." she explained, all the while twisting her blonde hair, "Do you like to watch?"
"I hardly think that's the appropriate topic right now."
"But, no, really. Do you?" she insisted on inquiring.
He sighed. "Well, actually. I do. I'm a fan of it, you know."
"You're confusing me." she said with a laugh. "But, do you know Cassie of Skins?"
"The mental case one?"
"Oh, wow--"
"Yeah, with that precise catchphrase."
"I never thought you'd be this... negative. But, people keep on comparing myself with him."
He sniggered. "Don't suppose you have a similar syndrome like her."
She brushed a flock of her hair off her face and stared at him with wonder. "Do you... respect people who live somehow more normal?"
He opened his mouth, like he was about to say something, but then he waved his right hand in front of their faces. "Doesn't matter anymore, now, does it?
"Well, I suppose..." she said, this time in a whimsical tone. "Are we really going to do this?"
"And what it this that you refer to?" he asked, almost quizzically, but definitely teasingly.
"Letting go." she said.
He nodded and offered his hand. The smile from her face was gone.

And together, they jumped.


Friday, May 31, 2013 Comments Off

While I do not fully understand the actions which those fellow youngsters do by justifying said actions using the current popular term 'yolo', but I do understand the sentiments. I understand the need for living in the now--the present--as opposed to longing for the repetition of the past in the future or hoping that the future would hold for a better improvement of the current story we all living (or indeed, for some, surviving). I understand why some of the thoughtful ones want to do it--the ones that do not fall into the categories of the typical nonsense 'young, wild and free', the ones that actually want to make the best of everything that they have right now. And of course, I support that wholeheartedly.

I support the notion that everyone and everything has a limited time--no matter how powerful they are, how wealthy, how wealthy, how sane or even insane they are, they have limited time. Especially humans, since, as the years progress, the closest things that we have to anti-aging product are those that our parents (and grandparents) use daily. So, indeed, as human, we need to sometimes let it go.

It? Yes, it being the demons and their playgrounds inside our ever-turning head or even the demons that lie in the anxieties and nervousness that we have about the future or about each other. However, no matter how easy I've written it down, I have the hardest time of letting go/dwelling with/ignoring those devils inside my head; but of course, they are coincidentally called devils inside our heads because we actually cause them to exist in this world, they are the creation of our brains. Well, at least, I do--my head does.

People who actually know me, the very same people that I've been calling/texting/IMing when I have problems or teeny thoughts, know that I constantly have a war inside my head. A war, not between good or evil mind you, with myself that exclusively and continuously as both opponents. It is understandably random, yet, it often causes me anxieties or even panic attacks. It is painful for me if someone left me alone with my own thoughts because the devils had made home there; those devils and demons that are not even invited or welcomed there. However, lately I have noticed that they are triggered by anxieties (which cause even more anxieties) or even something poignant that affect me so deeply inside out, but also, they trigger those anxieties. I can't honestly and brutally say nothing more than the truth behind the famous "circle of the devil", since it keeps on influencing one another.

I no longer have any idea how to react. These songs that used to support me and blocking both inner and outer voices out can not cure me anymore. I don't know where to lean on, or at least where to just hide safely, cocooned gently and lie carefully.

This is why I choose to have a getaway vacation. Just for ten days. To a place that is seemingly eerily constantly called as paradise in the middle of this sick jungle. So, aloha.

#2 of 27/5

Monday, May 27, 2013 Comments Off

At some point in our lives, we would come to realize that love is not the only thing that keeps a relationship going (whatever kind of that relationship, be it from parents to their children or even from an infatuated fool of a fan for her celebrity idol). False or misinterpretation of what they have said to one another could possibly lead to a halt of said relationships or even a permanent disconnection (the parents could have meant that they would buy her a new dress by the end of the month but she took it as a "no go" or the celebrity could have said that he hated working at his past work and the girl mistook it as a sign of hating the project entirely).

Trust is also another reason why relationships work in the first place, since without it misunderstanding could be easily formed (the girl attended certain parties and her parents mistook it as a sign of her being rebellious or her idol was continuously seen in front of bars looking wasted).

And so... are love, communication and trust the ground of your relationship?

#1 of 27/5

Comments Off

Earlier today, I decided to get a haircut and dye my hair. It was not an impulsive act, per se, but it was indeed something that I was not thoroughly planned like I always do in matters that can cause a permanent change in me. But then again, I only changed my hairstyle, didn't I?

So anyway.
When I was stuck sitting for almost four hours, contemplating about the result of my dyed hair, I had a sudden realization about myself and perhaps, to some extent, the world. No matter how hard I try to plan something (up until to the point it becomes something that I hopefully be), the ending result does not always up to me
Perhaps I've known this since I took certain classes concerning governmental acts of creating and making decisions--the whole blackboxed process that would determine the output, but still, it felt foreign. The idea that I can't control anything in the end feels really foreign for me, since for all the time in this world, I've been playing it 'safe', hence predictable result. And also, maybe, the reason that I am afraid of falling in love is because it is considered as gambling. Plus, I used to not believe in finding love in this fast-paced life where everyone runs to catch up with the rotating world. I used to think that love would be impossible because we would be so wrapped up with our own lives that we would not bother to care or even think about others that may seem to be more complicated with our own. It felt like an impossibility that I shouldn't even be bothered to think about.

Falling in love still feels like a luxury. How do I cope without it or with it? Will my heart survive the ultimate crashlanding to some unknown realm that has many possibilities (including heartbreaks, marriages, deaths and surprise pregnancies)? Or will my heart stay intact after being in a vacuumed place for so long (referring to this small hole inside of my soul)?


Friday, May 10, 2013 Comments Off

Me, staying alive after the war -- war between you and me.
Me, listening to the sound of some love songs that used to mean a lot to us.
Me, musing over some love stories and then give myself a heartache because of it.
Me, watching old movies -- and new movies -- alone.
Me, eating ice cream in the park and feeling cold but not because of the weather.
Me, riding the tube with book that accompanies me.

Me, living alone without you.


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Thanks to you, in the basic of terms, I learned what love actually is:

Love is sitting in silence inside a cafe, with you studying (or most of the time doodling away) next to me.
Love is sharing a cone of jamoca almond fudge ice cream with you
Love is watching psychological thriller like The Cell with you and arguing about our favorite psychopats.
Love is rambling in the cinemas to each others' ears because we are trying to guess the plot.
Love is gazing at the dark night blossoming into a bright blue.
Love is listening to my chatters on everyone and anyone and everything -- and in return, listening to yours.
Love is letting me eat the same food everyday for a month.
Love is doing the dishes together and ending up wet our whole clothes.
Love is together believing that it would not rain today, but instead we got soaked up -- again.
Love is travelling to places where I have never been before.
Love is praying silently for you to come home soon for your birthday surprise.
Love is finding a favorite snug cafe near our home.
Love is falling for you over and over again everyday.
Love is you -- love is me.


Saturday, May 4, 2013 Comments Off

Don't ask me to stay.

Make me. Tell me reasons. Point out things that are good for me if I choose to stay instead. Convince me. Bleed for me. Find me ways to accept the idea of holding on to this place. Call me everyday just to make sure that I am still in here. Confront me about the idea of leaving is actually not good. Push my limits. Negotiate with me. Go on a war with me. Force me to remember the best things about being in here.

Just don't ask me to stay without knowing the reasons. Don't tell me that leaving here would not have a good outcome for me. Don't tell me to enjoy this place without showing me what to enjoy. Don't call me only when you need me. Don't argue with me when you just want to win. Don't force me to stay. Because I would never stay.

It is deep-rooted within me that I have to find and define my home. I have to go and grow. For I have never felt anything but hatred and sadness in here. Hatred of self for being not enough for the impossibly insane standards that people have in here, and hatred for others who are much better and who resent me. Happiness marks certain occasions, but never becomes something that come along routinely like sadness, grief, emptiness and groundless void in my heart. I swallow what they usually called 'bitter pills' everyday, but for me it doesn't taste bitter -- instead, it tastes like something that is overly soured, pungent at first and then it left this aftertaste that I often can't bear so I puke it out in the form of listening to noisy songs. Sometimes I feel like someone punch me on my chest, the other times I feel like someone took away some of my breaths, and the rest of the time I feel like there is this disorderedness that hovers inside me.

So please, just let me leave.


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In the end it's just you.

You, reminiscing about memories of the past while listening to the forgotten songs of happy endings and high school stories.
You, watching a play at the nearby theatre by yourself after a nice dinner on your favorite restaurant near the river.
You, buying the same brand of perfume and soaps on the same store that has changed their generations of clerks and owners.
You, going to the library -- yes, that small snug library around the corner -- and caressing the spines of your favorite books.
You, standing straight on the platform of the station and gazing around the crowd -- secretly hoping that you can catch a familiar pair of eyes or bump into some people you already know before.
You, smelling the cherry blossoms that just bloom on the park where you first saw the same exact tree.
You, strolling around the secondhand shops and trying to find that pearl earrings that similar to the once you have worn out.
You, sipping a cup of hot chocolate since you cannot stomach a cup of caffeine anymore.
You, drawing a face of someone you once knew.

You, staying alive and feeling alive.


Friday, April 12, 2013 Comments Off

As the first light of the day creeped in, a woman sighed on her loved one's chest, snuggling tighter to his warmth and constant stroke of heartbeats. She smiled, watching as her current pillow rose and fell rhythmically as the person slept soundly, without caring for the world that was currently changing all around him-- her growing older second by second (as he was), the sun is shining brighter, the birds sung prettily and the atoms everywhere were rotating and spinning together in an age-old dance.

The woman kissed her man's nose.

Three times.

And then he woke up.
"Hullo." he greeted, kissing her mouth lightly. His voice was still raspy from sleep.
The woman only giggled.
"Why are you up so early, sweet?" he asked worriedly.
"Nothing," she drawled, "Thanks for letting me grow."
His brow furrowed, making him to look older than he actually was-- he did not need to ask, it was written all over his face.

"I mean... we have known each other for so long. We were dancing around one another since we were little and, yet, instead of chasing me around like those people who were so greedy to be in a marriage since they claimed they have loved since they were both in childhood. But not us. You allowed me to find, and eventually define, my own happiness first. You allowed me to grow into this person that I am right now, to be this precise person that is right here with your ring around my finger. You allowed me to live my own life to the point of I eventually got tired of being alone without you. And I realized that, actually, I belong to nowhere else, but in your arms. For that, thank you, my heart. I love you."

He kissed her deeply. "I love you, my life."
He did not need to say anything more. His actions were more than enough.


Wednesday, March 27, 2013 Comments Off

Last night, I found myself in a weirdly satisfying conversation with one of my uncles. I've known him  (thus engaged and exchanged informations with him) for all my life, but I have always forgotten the fact that he had once lived abroad for studying his major.

It all started with my visit to my grandmother's house next door to ask for his help. For the first few minutes, we talked about topics that were usual for conversation starters; the weather, my trip with friends, his son, etc. Then my grandmother asked me about my education lately and of course, being a grandmother, she couldn't help but asked about my nonexistent love life. And of course, I answered truthfully: I am focusing on my studies and my goals, so that in the near future I can finally move myself away.

Of course, my grandmother could not see the same way with me since earlier today I was informed by my uncle that she was definitely objected against the idea of me leaving this country without getting married first. It was perhaps because of her upbringings when she was little, her old-fashioned beliefs and her history that caused her to think that all girls would not able to compute in the future unless they got married. I didn't really oppose her because I knew that she only wanted the best for me, but I was not thinking exactly the same with her-- in fact I thought completely different from her and my love life (or lack thereof) supported the idea of leaving this country altogether, since currently I don't have anything that binds me here. Obviously, she still thought it as a horrible idea and wanted me to get married first.

However, it was then my real conversation with my uncle started; he told me about his past experiences living abroad and interacting with the natives. And everything that he informed me about his life confirmed me that my thirst for being some other place but here was natural for some people who had actually experienced the life and the true nature of how those foreigners live in their natural habitat; their kindness, their respect towards each other, their professionalism, their humbleness and overall the way they communicate with others. Those things are what I crave for. I don't crave for living in the misinterpreted way of "free-living" or "liberal" since more often than not, people around me mistake the term "freedom" with "living the way I choose to live without having to think about the repercussions".

And if some people (currently namely my grandmother) still think that my answer about needing to feel the contentment of my soul is not good enough, here is another answer: they are just ideas. My plans for my future. So if God deems that it is the best plan for me, then I would fulfill my dreams without having to think about what would happen if I don't have someone who court me by the time I am 25. If not, then I would lead my life another way, with or without someone there by my side. Perhaps for some people, things like these are too cruel or too modern-age for them to swallow, but in all honesty, if I hadn't been this way, I would not find happiness in the near future or even know what I want for myself.

This is what I've been trying to tell some people who has not been always so supportive about the thought of me in some foreign place: I am aiming for peace of mind, not for that some shallow-minded people call life by doing extreme things, and it may seemed bizarre, but I do know what I want and I want to be content living life the way it supposed to be according to me. I want happiness in the most profound term there is: to feel utterly at peace with myself and with those that surround me. It may seem  ideological for me, but it is what I always feel when I live here and I am not afraid to pursue it if I got the chance to.

Love seems so ethereal right now, but if it isn't my time then why should I force myself (and of course my hypothetical counterpart) to a relationship that won't satisfy my hunger but instead got me in a period that's a lot worse?

And since I finally got a support from an uncle whose opinions are highly regarded and remarked then perhaps this is one of the stages where my parents should finally realize that no matter how pleased I am in this place, living this precise life, I still need to give myself a chance to be happy.

Illusion of Grandeur

Sunday, February 24, 2013 Comments Off

A jumble of many events last year led up to this month, February 2013.

From heartbreaks to their mendings, from broken promises to newfound refuge, from unsuspected riddles to lovely resolves-- they all came to this. A month of funny trickeries and crazy coincidences, full of tears and laughters, and most importantly, full of meanings. This month bewitches me to the point of my ignoring the facts and believing in the unwritten future since this month has literally been giving me signals about the seemingly predictable future and partly unknown past. It has been a wicked month, but it gives me the sense of equal doubt and hope about what would happen in the predictable future. I suppose I just can't jinx it.

A few days ago, a certain guy and I talked through the most famous video call application for couples. We talked about our current daily lives, about the people we've met lately, about the current weather in respective countries, about our trip last summer, about our trips in the future, about his trip with his girlfriend and about other things. The first thing that came to mind about our conversation was that he kept on subconsciously reminding me about how you did not need to be in love in order to feel like you are loved. All you need is only the right people who loves you for who you truly are and honestly believes that you are a great person. He made me realise that it did not need to be someone who could potentially love you to do that, you only needed someone who understood you and would stand by you no matter what-- but it is preferable if that someone is a person who you spend your days with in a certain foreign country that is well-known for their tea-time and heavy accent. He also made me understand that you only need people who matter to you in your life, not the people you try to have small talks with. He made me grasp the concept of myself. And I am so grateful for it, even if it was not his intention.

So, from now on until the time comes, I will wait here patiently with the love of the people who met me once and loved me. I will wait while eating exemplary food, writing+reading stories and listening to beautiful music.

And world is an illusion of grandeur, it is simple actually, human makes it all complicated.

We Will

Sunday, January 20, 2013 Comments Off

While I was away for one and a half months in the land of rainy days and punctual underground, I was introduced to a couple. They were both twenty four and they were from the land of pretty señoritas and beautiful señors. I did not get the chance to talk with the girl, but I was sat next to the guy during the ride to a certain unnecessarily famous underground station-- the guy was beautiful, like one of those people you see in some magazines that had a spread of men with groomed beards, tall figure and warm smiles, that kind of beautiful.

Throughout the ride, from the big station where we all got on until a station me and my other friends got off, we talked. I never felt like I mattered before-- there he was, beautiful enough to walk in a runway and loyal enough to his girlfriend not to, talking to me like I was interesting. He asked about my background informations (the usual 'where are you from?' 'how old are you?' 'how long are you going to stay in here?') but he asked like he was interested to know about my life. And there was no romance or what-could-have-been romance that I felt while he was barging me with questions; he was handsome, he smiled a lot, he was genuinely inquisitive about  me, but I didn't feel any small amount of those bubbling happiness in the pit of your stomach when you like someone. Instead, I felt like I was a whole. I mattered.

When my friends and I finally got off in one station but the couple didn't follow us because all of the sudden the girl felt like she was sick, one of my friends told me some stories about the señor and señorita earlier. He was there because his work demanded him to take some English course for two weeks and she followed him in the same course, so that they could rent a place together and after they finished their respective course, they would go on a trip together.

I smiled like a sick person when she told me about them.

When I fall in love one day, I want to be like them. I want to be with someone who looks at me like I matter, like I am there and existed in his eyes. I want him to be genuinely concerned about me, about what my interests are, about my passion. And in turn, I will devote myself to him. We will have trips together, road trips, boat trips and even jungle trips. We will meet nice strangers and tell them about our lives, what we had to go through in order to meet each other and be with each other. We will also stay faithful with each other, not minding simple conversations that each other have with other people, instead we will respect each other for being nice to strangers. We will live. Under the roaring sun, the snowfalls, the branched trees, the pacific ocean, and under the rooftops of our own home. Together.

Les Romans.

Saturday, January 19, 2013 Comments Off

Some may have noticed that 2012 had been the greatest year of my life so far; from January 2012 until December 2012, I read many books that inspired me to write more and live more, these books helped me throughout the year of confusion and, ultimately, the year of contentment. What more can I say? Books are my friends, I enjoy losing myself inside their realms, being some characters that, otherwise, I won't be if there weren't books. Books offer me a certain kind of salvation which none others can give to me willingly. I could never live without books, but it does not mean that I live for books-- for I live for the journey, good or bad but they are equally exhilarating.

I will write and review books that I've read in 2012, hoping that by doing so, people would read these works, and they would love and appreciate the writers as much as I do. So, here we go.
  1. Hard-Boiled Wonderland and The End of The World by Haruki Murakami (1991) ✭✭✭✭✭
  2. I have a certain kind of admiration to Mr. Murakami. He creates his own whimsical worlds that are believable. The worlds are mostly not common, especially the ones in this novel. There are two different worlds in this novel, one is regarded as the reality, while the other is called "The End of The World". However, neither of them are usual, they take place in different worlds, different times even. There are two different narrators in the two worlds, each of them tells their own stories and lead their own interesting lives. The book kinds of mesmerising in their own ways, making you believe that you actually are the narrators and living those lives. It is like taking a breath of fresh air. 
  3. Brave New World by Aldous Huxley (1932) ✭✭✭✭✩
  4. People often compare this work to Orwell's 1984, which I find very suffocating because both of them are different and they portray different lives. Brave New World describes a utopian country where people are ruled by entertainments and drugs to be their gateways from reality. Notwithstanding the fact that 1984 is beautifully written, but I found Brave New World was very relatable to life and the literary work was easier to digest. I don't really like the plot due to its sad ending, but the world that Huxley had created is amazing and yet I don't really want to live in such life-- where people are governed by their own need to be happy but not knowing that their happiness is not real.
  5. Like The Flowing River by Paulo Coelho (2006) ✭✭✭✭✭
  6. It is a compilation of non-fiction stories by Paulo Coelho. It tells the readers about Coelho's experiences and about how we should cope about life. It taught me how to let go and why there are things happen the way they are supposed to. It made me reconnect myself, reflect in what I do what I am doing. It's a survival book for our soul.
  7. I Capture the Castle by Dodie Smith (1949) ✭✭✭✭✩
  8. A coming of age story that sets in the 1940s in the castle on the countryside of England. It revolves around the narrator's life in the castle with her father, step-mother, siblings and their helper/worker. I found myself in love with the naïveté and the innocence from Cassandra's writing, because she was so keened in helping her sister, yet, she had a conflictual emotion because she fell for her sister's fiancé. I loved how she became the person in the family that mended everyone, but I despised the ending--perhaps I should deal with my hatred towards unrequited love more, because it's beginning to bias my opinion on good books. All in all, despite the ending, this is one of the novels that I found very charming in its own way.
  9. 1Q84 by Haruki Murakami (2011) ✭✭✭✭✭
  10. I've promised myself that if I ever did a book review, I won't put in two works of an author--but unfortunately, I'm breaking my own promise. You see, since 2011, I've fallen in love with Murakami's writings-- his book that I've read first was Kafka On The Shore (another ✭✭✭✭✭ I must say) and I got addicted to his works, so I purchased Hard-Boiled Wonderland and The End of The World. After that, I tried to read his thickest work yet, 1Q84, and it was beautiful in its own way. It's kind of amazing how Murakami made the story sounded relatable to our current life when the setting was in 1984, Murakami had managed to blur the boundaries between the present and the past, so it felt like you actually were living in his world. I fell in love with the characters, especially Tengo. One of my favorite books so far.
There are several others that I've read during the twelve months, but they don't have more profound impact to me than these five books. I went to strange places with those books, but I didn't feel like I was estranged, I was actually felt like at home. To those of you who never found the joy in reading books, I hope you can someday find a book that will change your mind about that-- because books and films always save me in the darkest of times. Long live books and their authors!
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