Archive for 2014
Sunday, December 14, 2014 Comments Off
Mungkin ini cuma salah satu tulisan yang aku buat di kala gelap memayungi semua yang ingin ternyenyak dan semua yang ingin melupakan realitas di kala fajar menyapa.
Mungkin ini kugubah dikarenakan aku melihat wajahmu, terpampang manis, tertera di layar ponselku ketika kamu unggah fotomu--bersamanya, tentunya.
Meskipun begitu, aku kangen.
Bukan, bukan padamu.
Bukan pada lelaki yang kini sedang menatapi langit biru muda terhiaskan oleh butiran salju.
Tetapi kepada seorang sosok yang pernah kukenal,
Ketika rasa kehilangan masih terasa asing dilidahku--setidaknya kehilangan secara fisik.
Ketika kita tak harus mencari bahan obrolan.
Ketika tempat kita makan siang masih bersama--menghadapi dan mencomot makanan satu sama lain.
Ketika mimpiku dan mimpimu masih sama--lulus dan menanggalkan seragam putih-abu.
Ketika aku hanya mengenal rasanya memilikimu.
(Tolong, tolong percaya kepadaku)
Bahwa aku tidak menginginkan untuk menjadi milikmu.
Aku sudah menerima fakta kalau,
aku dan kamu seperti malamku dan senjamu
paralel, terjalin, namun tak akan pernah bersama lagi.
Tidak, tidak lagi.
Aku hanya mencari apa yang pernah kurasakan kepadamu, dengan orang lain.
Tanpa imigrasi harus memisahkan ku dengannya.
Wednesday, November 12, 2014 Comments Off
Monday, November 10, 2014 Comments Off
Sunday, November 9, 2014 § 0
Wednesday, November 5, 2014 Comments Off
Tuesday, November 4, 2014 Comments Off
"A lot of time wasted for naught, I bet." I said, the forever hopeless romantic realist. "There is no way of knowing whether they love you back."
"But they say action speak louder than words."
I was about to say, true, especially in cases when one partner is typically more introverted than the other or when one of them has anxiety issues, but the words were swallowed by my intake of beer and my nerve to speak was drowned in the joined hands of loud locals and drinks being served. "Loads of bull," I ended up saying.
"How could you be––you were once my," a sigh could be heard, or perhaps I imagined it as so, "You've changed so much. Too much."
Maybe it was true. The design and complexity of my new world was different from what both of us had known for a long time. Scenery of it was, quite possibly, a stark contrast of what we had (years and years ago). I could not tell if it was for the better. Or for worse. There was this ethereal serenity that I found by being something that I was.
Maybe it was true. They said I had this twinkle in my eyes that people had not seen before, a recently discovered enigma that was buried deep between the possibility of relapsing and nestled behind my self-control. My eyes now focused on the dartboard next to the bar. People were bee-lining to get pumped. (I did not know anything about infatuation, not anymore.)
Maybe it was true. The early stages were predicted, by science, humanity, and psychology. But these aftereffects were unknown to mankind unless their experience it. It was a personal combat between the mind, the conscience, and the heart. Ethereal, yes, but it was also lonely. Cumbersome.
"Did love changed you? The love of others that had served you for years and now they chose to change you. This is not who you are." it was almost delivered as a scream, but the tone was changed on the last part. Instead of anger, it was disappointment. To self or to me, I could not tell.
"It is called family. They don't serve me. But it was not love. It was hatred." I could tell, a flicker in the eyes changed from disappointment to curiosity. Perhaps I did not phrase it perfectly. "What I meant was that my hatred towards everything that used to make and identify me was the sole key to changed me. This hatred is another form of love that I wish you could experience."
"Life-changing, I bet." this time, it was a sneer. A condescending experience that I had seen thousands of times before.
"I could not do that anymore. It was not even the drugs that ticked me off. Recreational drugs are not something that people should take lightly, but in this case, it should be. The simple reason was the whole cult. The celebration of something that should not be loved. Worshipping something that's living is not a way to live. Dedicating your life for someone else, that's not guaranteed would love you back or even think about you the same way you think about them was not healthy. Not for me. Have you seen the tricks behind the miracles? All staged act. It's time to take time for myself. This is my life. I would not give another thought or any dispensable and indispensable things for it. I could not tolerate it. Not anymore." my speech was delivered without feeling or emotion, the best way to make someone understand.
"You were my husband. We were supposed to live with each other forever. I could not––"
I put some bills on the table and proceeded to leave.
Maybe hatred that pulled me out. But it was love that made me leave.
Wednesday, October 15, 2014 Comments Off
All at once.
He was the kitten-like creature that rolled out of his bed at eleven a.m. in a sleepy rainy Sunday. He was the hoarder in the Summer, refused to discard anything besides trash, refused to wear any other attire beside his plain shirts that only come in two colours: washed and from-yesteryear.
He was the kind of person that would forget all of his promises of spending time with his friends––including, but not limited to, lunches, dinners, workout sessions, museum-hopping, Sunday cookouts––for his job even though he never forgot birthdays.
Even though he always proclaimed that he was a tech-savvy (his words, not mine), but he kept on forgetting to change the lightbulb in his closet, claiming that changing lightbulbs were not what he did for work and straight up defended that being a tech-savvy was not equal as being handy with lightings.
He tried the hipster beanie (only once), rocking it failingly for a day and then he gave up––trying on the bowler hat the next day, effectively stretching two of my favourite hats.
Drunk himself crazy with my two bottles of strong red wine in one sitting; claiming that he was not drunk, he was, as a matter of fact, totally mad at me for not introducing him to my twin sister that he just met.
Self-taught himself the name of the flowers in this continent alone just to impress his little friends that often came to work, the week after, he studied loudly how to sound like owls.
He downloaded The Sims just to create characters and dress them up similarly to what his colleagues normally dressed, even though he usually degraded them by not letting them to get jobs or even live in a house.
Had himself an idea that he would stash jelly beans (ziplocked and colour-coded) on his jacket pockets as an ice-breaker––he remembered that he had them two years later, they were not beans anymore.
Took me driving to countrysides just to taste how the ice cream was like there––they were the same and he was bummed.
He made me so angry, that I did not talk to him for the whole week, this occurred three times per year minimum.
He taught me about feminism and the best cafe to buy sourdough bread all in one breath.
He was too much to handle sometimes.
A lot of things. All the time.
But he was not mine.
Friday, October 10, 2014 Comments Off
Aku tidak tersedak, tetapi aku hampir memuncratkan air putih yang baru saja kuteguk.
Dia tertawa, senyumnya tipis. "Lo ngerti tapi, kan? Apapun yang kebates sama lautan dan kedaulatan, seharusnya gak perlu lo pikirin kalo gak nyambung sama apa yang terjadi sama lo sekarang. Kecuali emang lo dibayar untuk itu. Which I highly doubt karena lo masih di sini sekarang bareng gue buat nungguin kelas kita selanjutnya."
Aku tetap terdiam. Nasi uduk beserta lauknya yang kuidam-idamkan sejak kelas pagi Pak Ben kubiarkan mendingin di depanku, menjadi gumpalan yang tidak menarik bahkan seolah memualkan. Bukan salah Bu Eka, makanannya selalu nikmat dan seringkali harganya diturunkan dikarenakan aku sudah menjadi langganan warung kecilnya, namun makanan tersebut langsung terlihat asing bagiku. Aku mendadak ingin memuntahkan semuanya. "Kenapa lo tiba-tiba ngomong gitu sih?"
"Emang lo maunya gue ngomong kayak apa?"
"Gak usah bangkit-bangkit apa yang seharusnya mati deh, Bim." ujarku. Meskipun aku tahu aku agak berbicara kasar kepadanya, namun nadaku datar dan pandanganku tertuju kepada motor yang berjejer di seberang warung Bu Eka.
"Masih gak bisa move on? Kenapa sih? Dia udah punya kehidupannya sendiri sekarang. Gelar pascasarjananya dia juga tinggal ditandatangan sama dosen di sana. Gak mungkin dia pack up and come home cuma karena lo ngerengek. Lo juga udah bisa hidup tanpa dia juga kan. He wasn't yours to begin with," nadanya tinggi, cara berbicaranya pun ketus, tetapi dia tidak mau menatapku. "Lo juga punya kehidupan lo sendiri. Lo bisa survive tanpa dia, gak perlu nungguin instruksi dia kayak apa yang temen-temen lo lakuin kalo mereka abis putus––atau mungkin karena lo gak pernah jadian, lo jadi lebih gampang untuk ngelepas dia. Terus mau lo kayak gimana? Gue gak bisa ngungkit sedikit aja tentang kedaulatan dan tetekbengek lainnya yang terkait tentang international affairs cuma karena dia lagi ngambil subject itu di sana? Apa gue gak boleh bicara pake bahasa Inggris juga karena dia sekarang lagi ngegunain bahasa itu di Amerika?"
"Kenapa lo malah marah-marah sama gue, Bim? Gue tadi cuma ngebahas tentang politik, kenapa malah harus ngungkit-ngungkit lagi sesuatu yang bikin gue gila dan nyesel?" aku mengamuk dan menangis pada saat yang bersamaan.
Dingin menyelimuti tubuhku, entah kedinginan apa ini yang aku rasakan sekarang, tetapi aku tidak pernah merasakan apapun seperti ini.
"Gue pengen lo buruan lupain dia. Putra udah nggak tinggal di Indonesia lagi! Dia bahkan udah siap-siap jadi wakil Indonesia buat Amerika. Lisa bakal dinikahin sama dia setelah dia dapet gelarnya. Kapan lo bakal nyadar itu semua?"
Aku menangis kejer. Air mata turun berlimpah lebih mudah daripada semua kata-kata yang sudah aku siapkan untuk kulontarkan ketika ada seseorang yang menyuruhku untuk melupakan Putra. Mataku sudah mulai terasa sembap, bibirku sudah mulai bengkak dikarenakan aku menggigitnya untuk menjaga agar aku tidak teriak. Rasa dingin yang kuderita di kulitku perlahan-lahan menyelinap ke perutku dan dadaku. Diikuti dengan rasa kekosongan yang besar––rasa kehilangan arah yang ekstrem. Apakah ini semua cuma aku yang mengalaminya? Aku yakin semua orang yang pernah merasakan kesakitan ketika ditinggali seslalu dapat merasakan hal ini, bukan? Rasa seperti seseorang mengambil jantungmu kemudian menggantikannya dengan kedinginan yang menusuk tulang dan kehampaan yang mengambil alih pikiranmu. Aku merasa kehilangan seseorang penting dari kehidupanku, terlepas dari fakta bahwa aku menyadari aku telah mencintainya selama ini. Terlepas dari fakta bahwa ia dulunya adalah lelaki yang kujadikan support system.
Bimo menghela nafasnya. "Apa mungkin ini cuma misguided love yang lo rasain? Gak mungkin ini semua tuh cinta yang romantis. Mungkin lo cuma kehilangan panduan hidup tapi bukan hati lo. Bukan kehilangan sesuatu yang ngegerakin lo buat hidup. Bukan akal pikiran lo."
Apa yang Bimo katakan ada benarnya. Mungkin. Aku tidak tahu. Semua ini terlalu cepat dan terlalu banyak untuk aku cerna secara cepat. Sakit hatiku masih baru.
"Lihat baik-baik, Ella." ketika ia akhirnya menyebut namaku, aku mendongak. Menatap matanya yang terlalu sayu untuk ukuran mukanya yang terbilang lembut, meskipun antitesis yang kuat bagi badannya yang besar dan tinggi. Dia bagai paradoks berjalan. Terkadang auranya yang memperlihatkan bahwa ia adalah lelaki yang pendiam, padahal dia sebenarnya salah satu lelaki termanja yang pernah kukenal––sebenarnya dia adalah teman termanja yang aku punya. Mungkin bukan manja yang diartikan sebagai lelaki yang tidak mau melakukan apapun sendiri, namun manja yang memperlihatkan bahwa dia membutuhkan perhatian lebih dari orang lain. Khususnya aku. "Kapan lo bisa lihat kalo gue yang selama ini sayang sama lo. Kalo gue yang selama ini ada buat lo."
Aku terdiam, sudah tak lagi menangis.
Kemudian aku tertawa.
Dan menciumnya di hidung.
Thursday, October 9, 2014 Comments Off
It is at time like this I feel so melancholy for the times I will experience. For the time that I will lose. For the time that I will leave behind. For the feelings that I will feel in the future, for the emptiness that I will feel for thinking about this exact time, this wholeness that I feel from being loved by my environment so much, for this moment that I will lose, for these friends that I will leave behind.
Perhaps one day in the future, when I would be found huddling under a heavy yellow cloak that would bear the same resemblance as that year's most sought after design thinking about this exact circumstance. I would find myself, while warming up with the coat and a cup of hot gunpowder green tea, it was only the circumstance that helped me grow my fondness of this bleak small city life. Or mayhap the reason was that I have found friends––and enemies––that would turn my previously dull life into more interesting one. Perhaps.
Saturday, August 16, 2014 § 0
European Summer was brilliant. The air tasted sweet in my lips, though Dutch air smelled a bit salty, while German air smelled like the best of its kind. The small towns' scenery were majestic with a different kind of green that my mind's palette had never seen before. They were lush and heavy of the memories that some people left behind. I have always thought that they grew from the traces of the connection that they had with humans. This Summer was magical.
Tuesday, August 12, 2014 § 0
Monday, August 11, 2014 Comments Off
Sunday, July 27, 2014 Comments Off
Monday, June 23, 2014 Comments Off
I have always thought that these people are the ones who need love the most. That they deserve my time, attention and love.
But I forgot to see you, to realise that someone doesn't have to be brooding, dark, or almost villainous to be misunderstood by everyone.
I forgot to see someone that needed my attention the most.
Thursday, June 12, 2014 Comments Off
Sunday, June 8, 2014 Comments Off
"Are you... that is to say... are we..." she breathed.
Silence. Pretty silence.
Later at night, when the woman had settled in for the night and under her trusted black comforter, she kissed him on his neck. Smiling, she whispered, "Thank you for letting me do that."
He nodded. "I know, you don't have to say it; you can't say about anything properly. I understand. I know that every now and then you need to do this. To just say whatever it is that comes in your mind without any remorse. I get it."
"Thank you. I love you."
"And, wife? I think I've paid my debt. I did not get to dance with you at our prom, but at least we had our wedding dance... and others." his statement were followed with generous laughters from both throats.
Friday, June 6, 2014 Comments Off
It all started just like any other day, but I took that one small hairbreadth leap, I went on a different route and ended up going to a dollar store. I saw this mug. A mug that I instantly loved because of its exquisite simplicity and the rare occurrence where the market supply matched my personal demand. A mug that matched up to my own love. This mug, with its plain design, brought me another whole degree of unsuspected happiness.
It was only a two minute conversation. I was smiling for politeness and he returned it. His eyes twinkled, like a laughter suppressed or an unvoiced thought. We did not pass the subject of mutual likings of a good cup of hot beverages and the best pastimes to accompany the enjoyment of drinking such liquid. It ended right when a feminine hand rested itself on top of his muscled arm.
There was not any chemistry, only the cosmic coincidence that pushed us together both for an infinitesimal amount of time. But each of our parting smiles said the same thing: in another life.
Monday, May 19, 2014 Comments Off
Thursday, May 15, 2014 Comments Off
It changed overnight; it only took an impulsive decision of my part and a bizarre cosmic coincidence.
I saw him looking. It was not the same like he was noticing me, but I was. Noticing him, that is. It was impossible not to. To this day I can never understand my attraction to bearded men, usually it was towards older men or older foreign actors with biceps as big as my thighs, but that night my eyes were reserved to this guy. Sure, there were plenty of other men who appeared decidedly alluring with their wide arms and warm smiles—even though they all acted the same when they were trashed—yet, again, I kept my gaze on him.
It is not hard to describe this guy. Beard, short hair, wide chest, smelled exclusive, and exuded confidence that came along with power and dominance. Encased with black long shirt and washed-out jeans, he looked powerful and charismatic. The instant our eyes met, zsa zsa zsu washed over me like a smell of botanical garden in the summer. And as I strolled that garden, I couldn't help but feel relieved for being right there. Engulfed with the overpowering feeling of zsa zsa zsu and that exact moment.
Do not get me wrong, I did not act anything to quench the thirst of my running in the garden of zsa zsa zsu. I had never been drunk enough to do such thing, to drunkenly and publicly reach out for a total stranger. But for some reason, he did. He was tipsy, but I had no alcohol running in my veins to give me that extra little push. My sober friend actually almost pushed me to do something with him since he was practically sitting next to me, while keeping his stretched arms towards me. Even then the pull was strong. I almost gave in, but he gave up and asked his friend to accompany him to the toilet. I had to restrain myself or I would only be a foggy remembrance of something he would soon forget as soon as his head hit the pillow. Another event, another girl. Another event, another drunken stupor. Another event, another night to forget.
The next night, a friend of mine sent me a picture of him. Another friend recognised who he was—small world, no need to remind me—so she told me bits and pieces about him. I smiled at her, he was attractive. But that was it. A stranger for the night. A stranger to fall to for just one night. A stranger to kiss away the cold midnight air. A stranger to have small private moments with.
But, I have to admit, he had opened up my eyes.
Thank you for giving me zsa zsa zsu.
Sunday, May 11, 2014 Comments Off
They do not always relay to me verbally on how much they care for me and how much they love me. However, they do thoughtful things that would make me feel special. "Have you eaten yet?" "Take care, it's raining. Did you bring your umbrella?" "Watch your steps, it's slippery." "It's getting colder, do you want to order some hot tea?" "Do you need me to drive?" "Here, let me help you with that."
All I want to say right now is how I am grateful for the Universe and its thoughtful idea to introduce them to me at the right time.
Monday, April 21, 2014 Comments Off
But it never occurred to me that there was another type of secondhand love. A type that burns you just the same like the aforementioned relationship. Where one of the pairs expect the other to expect them to be similar to their expectations. It can be quite hard to live in that retrospect. How our own expectations of how others treat us is actually what kills us the most--not their actual expectations of us. Our own imaginative head manages to make us suffer more exponentially than before. Funny how our own thoughts could be the source of our state of decay, but also could be the cure.
Have you ever felt that way?
Tuesday, April 15, 2014 Comments Off
Sunday, April 13, 2014 Comments Off
But perhaps I just miss you.
All around everyone was enjoying this oddly bright and warm day in the middle of Fall. Mothers pulled out their worn age-old picnic baskets stuffed with sandwiches and cold sodas, kids running around and playing with their friends, old people were permitted to go out and enjoyed the magic, and there were couples. Couples.
Couples that did not have to wait for the right time to go on Skype because of the far-stretched time differences because they lived in the same town and timezone. Couples that got to go on surprise date. Couples that could share and live moments after moments together instead of having to tell and explain it to them later on the day. Couples that were able to celebrate milestones of their lives together. Couples that were able to be in the same pictures together on those milestones events, not showing them off through social media applications. Couples that were able to buy groceries together and cook, or even had night in. Couples that were able to go to the clubs at Friday nights just to let loose. Couples that weren't us.
Perhaps I shouldn't wish for the circumstances to change. I should accept this even more, but I miss you. Too much. Having to wait perhaps is the hardest part of all. The timing was just not right, as you've always said. Maybe the Universe determined that this could be our ultimate test to determine whether or not we were right for each other.
But at times like this, you were just to far away.
As I stood up, leaving my spot on the park and walking through a commotion. I was not paying any attention to anything, therefor I ended up bumping to someone.
The person said, "I missed having you in my arms."
Friday, April 4, 2014 Comments Off
Wednesday, April 2, 2014 Comments Off
Tuesday, March 25, 2014 Comments Off
Constant trust was all I could see
but it was a different strategy altogether
(the same way that I saw you with someone else)
Wednesday, March 19, 2014 Comments Off
But at least you'd be there, smiling at me. We'd come to the place together, you wouldn't fuss at my spending time too much on curling my eyelashes or finding the right shoes or going through numerous of outfits--because you have known my family for years and you'd end up sleeping on my brother's bed anyway, like usual. I'd smile at your antics, pointed out the humming of heavy traffic outside before you could fall into deeper slumber. We would immediately go to your car, that was park nicely in front of my dark wooden fence. I'd mess up your dashboard. Or perhaps sitting awkwardly. Or maybe staring at your face, hung at your words and the way you explain things to me.
By the looks of it, it would be forever until we'd reach our destination. But we would be okay, we would be packed with our words, with your stories and your informations and your hand gestures. We would discuss about our mutual friend, how so-and-so was doing really well with her study but not with her love life, how that buzzcut guy was now doing oration and how most of our inner circle friends seem to have scandals with one another.
Then we would laugh. Our eyes would tell each other secrets that the mouth, nor the head or the heart, could not convey. Mutual understanding--simple agreement between both parties that neither acknowledge nor realise until it is too late. We would pass it as another affection-like adoration. Again, platonic. We would pass another traffic light. And then another, and then another.
And at one point, one of our favourite songs would come up on the radio and you would sing along with me. It would end at the exact time you park your car and let me out of it-- our temporary mode of transportation, because you prefer riding the tube or walking. My arm would hang itself through your purposefully created loop with my hand grip tightly on your forearm, the place where your temporary tattoo was once made. You would kiss my head, once (or perhaps twice, discreetly). And I would know then, I have fallen in love with you. You would be someone that I love.
(but now all I got is only a lousy hello)
Monday, March 10, 2014 Comments Off
Thursday, March 6, 2014 Comments Off
Who are you trying to impress?"
And I'd sigh, exponentially tired.
You were smiling, never smoking.
Beer in your hand, taste of defeat in your lips.
Maybe the best thing of us is our what-could-have-beens. Our scenarios that we purposefully almost otherworldly create with the thoughts of each other but not actually with each other. Scenarios that are filled with wide-eyed kids with curly hair and thick lips, with vivid colour of annual summer trips, with honeymoons in London eating fish and chips. Scenarios that are just too far, too otherworldly, yet absurdly purposefully close to home if we chose to go through it. These are creation of my own interpretation of what I saw in us--what I've failed to notice (years and years ago).
What we had was something that all the philosophers, scientists and human behaviour specialists unsuccessfully try to solve--the intimate unromantic platonic friendship. Such things couldn't have happened, since more often than not, either one of the parties would fall for the other. I did. For you. Especially, exclusively, irrevocably.
You've had enough--I haven't tasted it all. Funny, how, all these years I've been longing for a certain hypothetical person--but I was too busy to take notice of your full-grown heart, mature head, your endless patience, your tired sleepy eyes, the warmth of your hug, your accepting smiles, that playful tug on my hair when you were not patient, and everything that made you who you are. I was too busy for my person.
But that person is gone. Your phase in my life is over. It's time for me to move on.
You are now blurry, far away, and with your back on me.
(Please come home soon)
Sunday, March 2, 2014 Comments Off
Thursday, February 27, 2014 Comments Off
Wednesday, February 12, 2014 Comments Off
Friday, February 7, 2014 Comments Off
The month when I found you--yes, the only blossoming flower in the spring. Your heavy branches was calling me home--years, years ago.
The month when I bonded with you--something tighter than those of physical bonds. Spiritual bond, you once said, was much more stronger than anything, it surpassed any physical bonds--afterwards, I tried to cut my hair, the same hair that you adored, but the feelings were still there.
The month when I trusted you--falling asleep was one of the forms of trusting people, no? (It is harder to imagine someplace else to sleep)
The month when I lost you--too soon, my soul ached. My soul lost its counterpart far too soon. It hadn't even exchanging breaths. Too soon--too early, not enough.
Will it be the month that you come back to me?
Monday, January 27, 2014 Comments Off
I've been in an on-off relationship with myself for the past couple of years. It took me a precious journey to the land of heavy rain and the equally heavy accent, numerous conversations with a certain Russian man (that will turn 24 this February, happy birthday bro) and other significant human beings that I met there (thank you for the long walks and talks, theatre watching, people "stalking"; parts of my heart shall always be yours), strangers that convinced me that I was enough (and especially this security for a sport museum that said someday men would worship the very ground that I walk upon), and my beautiful beautiful roommates (holler to Switzerland, Russia and Japan).
It took quite a lot.
But I cherish myself even more. Especially for the part that I could withstand the thought of being physically alone (taking trips with tubes, eating and reading at small cafes, walking to some halal shops, talking with strangers about Haruki Murakami, exchanging ideas about Islam with fellow muslim from Africa, finding self in a debate with a shop owner about the best actor who played The Doctor and it's Chris Eccleston sir I insist and it's not because I love him in general but oh wait it is, and spending a day alone in a packed mall looking for the best leather jacket for myself). And it is the best relationship I've had.
And I am not saying this because I worship myself. But, because I've found out that I could love myself this much. And all of my past problems I got with myself (I was going to put my insecurities in this bracket, but right now I cannot even think if there was anything wrong with me in the past) was gone; my mind got purged by the heavy rain. I love myself even more. I enjoy myself. I am happy with myself.
For that exact reasons, I want to travel the world by myself because I know I won't be a bore to myself. Because I know that I can get lost with myself, without no one who speaks my native language, but live happily with it. And I've done that. And I was happy. It is important, isn't it? To stay sane when you cannot count anyone but yourself. And I did that, I could do that again.
I have to do that again.
(Side note: in the spirit and honour of wearing your scent, I would like to get a tattoo myself. The calculated surface of the Earth: 510,072,000 km2 on my wrist, so that I won't forget, no matter how big my problems are, the big world is there for me to explore and get lost in)
Wednesday, January 22, 2014 Comments Off
Sunday, January 19, 2014 Comments Off
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