Friday, October 20, 2017

It was not your cruel words that kill me
It was the faith I am losing in words that kills me

And that's the most cruel thing someone has ever done to me

Wednesday, September 20, 2017

Stranger

He was once a clear figure, with skin and flesh
A warm scent bursted out from each word he uttered
Overtime the skin began to shrink and the flesh started to rot
The familiar scent started to fade hence the words became scentless
In this very moment he is just one of those blank faces
A shadowy figure that appears each night when I light up my candle


'Once' and 'Still'

Then,
They were sounded so light and empty before my home was ashes
They were not in the list of words relating to pain and suffering
Now,
They are clinging to my legs, stumbling me in each step I take
They are choking up my lungs, smothering me in each moment I breathe

Monday, September 11, 2017

Luka

Siang itu aku datang dengan satu lagi luka baru yang masih basah. Tersembunyi dibalik balutan baju hangat yang begitu jarang kukenakan. Luka ini akhirnya muncul dengan guratan jelas diatas kulitku setelah lama ia hanya berupa potensi, bulatan memar yang tak tampak.

Aku meringis ketika lukaku tak sengaja tersentuh lengannya. Untuk pertama kalinya aku memperhatikan lengan itu, lengan yang selalu berupaya menggapai dan merengkuhku dalam dunia sepinya.

"Luka baru?"

Aku hanya mengangguk dan memaksakan senyum kepada orang asing ini. Tak ada yang kuingat tentangnya, bahkan namanya. Ia selalu kuabaikan.
Hari ini pandanganku menyapa sekujur tubuhnya, bukan lagi hanya pada bayangannya.

Lalu tersingkaplah, kain yang menyelubungi tubuhnya. Aku terpaku menatap kulitnya yang kotor, dipenuhi lebam dan goresan-goresan yang dalam. Lingkaran biru dan garis-garis merah memenuhi sekujur tubuhnya.

Tentang luka-luka dan lebamnya yang sesekali dua kali pernah kudengar dari kicauan burung-burung di loteng, bukanlah sekadar rumor.

"Kaukah yang burung-burung itu selalu ributkan? Kau hanya terjatuh sekali. Bagaimana tubuhmu bisa sehancur ini?" aku tak dapat menahan getaran hati yang mendesak dari suaraku.

"Ini luka-luka perjalanan. Aku tengah melewati jalan yang berduri dan berkabut, dan aku masih melangkah ke tempat yang kutuju."

Dengan lembut ia menggulung lengan baju hangatku, mempelajari dan memperhatikan luka baruku dan kali ini aku tak menolaknya.
Luka kami serupa.

Dan ia masih belum sejengkal lebih dekat daripada tujuannya.

Tuesday, September 5, 2017

Where will I go?


Where will I go?
When the only home I've known is ashes now
How will I know when the only love I'm shown is so changeable?
How do I grow then, when I've been alive for the best part of my life
Feeling alone
Feeling alone with you
Without you
With you
Without you


Dreams of William - Daughter

Monday, August 28, 2017

I am here

It was one lovely friday. The cloudy skies were crystal clear. I was standing there, surrounded by people and their warmth while doing something fun: commenting to their unfunny jokes. 

Everything was fine and I was feeling so alive when my anxiety stroke me.
Really hard. Out of the blue. 

It took only 2 minutes for It to sucks light from the sun. It invites the storm and clouds to gather beneath me. Everyone around me turns to stranger and the jokes turns into bitter. I felt lost and everything around me became unfamiliar. 

I felt ill and went home with uneasy feeling that evening. At that moment I knew that a hard battle awaits and something is visiting me soon: my demon.

It was a fearful night, I was with no one. My heart felt uneasy, I was trembled and shivered remembering the last time my demon was around, I was still unable to tame it. I was going to lose my mind so I cried in despair and asked for His help. 

I was so desperate and longing for a presence that I even asked him to manifest himself so I can feel a presence. I didn't want to be alone with my demon when it comes

I felt restless.
The fear grew inside me sucks the air from my lung and I could hardly breathe. My chest was in ache. Then I closed my eyes. 

I was trying to enjoy the torment of the prison I was unable to escape when I heard a familiar cracked and raw voice whispers, 

"I am here." 


A wave of terror hit me. Then I lose my mind. 

Tuesday, August 15, 2017

a Hero

I grew up listening to his voice wailing through my uncle's radio casette player. I never liked the music, my ears was not meant for such emphasized volume. I was too young to ponder the meaning behind any songs. I never paid attention to anyone, not even any particular member of a band I am familiar to. I didn't even know his name. All I know, he was the 'angst-ridden screamer' of Linkin Park, my (only one beloved) uncle's favorite band.
Now, they're already gone.  Both of them.

When I heard the news, I never expected that I would feel my heart cracks. A piece of my childhood just went away.
For days, I was in denial. I refused to know more about the tragedy. I couldn't accept it. Each time I heard people talking about the tragedy, I stop my ears. Each time my eyes caught any letters forming his name, I just scroll my screen down.
I didn't know why I felt really bad. I didn't listen to his music, I didn't know anything about him yet I felt an extremely deep grief.

Just several nights after the tragedy, I typed the name of the band on my spotify's search box. I put my earphones on and shut my eyes, intended to recall the tiny delightful part of my childhood memories with my late uncle.
A verse and two, I already lost myself. It was the same voice wailing, it was the same song, but at that time, I was able to hear the pain in each of his uttered words. I was able to recognize the battle he'd been struggling to win over. I am so familiar with the painful scenes he tried to conveyed through his voice. I felt like an arrow pierced right to my heart when a word said. Words by words, then a verse finished and my heart was in no shape. Black and blue full of wounds. I just bawled my eyes out.

His demon and I are no stranger.

Just now, I finally able to accept the tragedy and willing to know about it. I read several news and articles about his leaving and how the shockwave still resonates among those who became the witness of his endless battle with the demon.

"Dear Chester Bennington, it hurts all of us to know that you saved so many lives, yet we couldn't save you..."

He is one successfull human being.
He succeeded living his life and left marks (in hearts of million).
How many human ever existed that succesfully leave marks with his existence?

Well, he was someone.
To me, he is a hero.


Saat ia mulai menulis dengan jiwanya yang begitu lembut dan bening, aku tersadar bahwa ia selalu terinspirasi darimu. Dalam setiap goresan kasar pensil kayunya, ada bayangan akan semua bagian dirimu yang tidak bisa kuabaikan apalagi kubenci. Bagian yang begitu kecil, yang membuatku terjatuh pada keseluruhanmu.

Thursday, August 10, 2017

All the confusions and hesitations like a storm ravaging the tranquility of our mind. It's so roisterous yet we are trapped in silence. Doing nothing and pretending that everything is fine. Is it in our head or is it only in mine? Are we killing each other or is it only you killing me?
---

I thought that we are not okay. Then I realize that it was only me. It's me killing myself.

Tuesday, August 1, 2017

Kering Tinta

Aku, yang sedang bersama sunyi, menggenggam penaku ditengah kegelapan malam. 
Kata-kata mengalir begitu derasnya mengotori kertas putihku dan jariku menari-nari begitu lincahnya menggoreskan jutaan makna. Aku tak mampu membendung gejolak jiwaku yang berapi-api.

Perlahan-lahan, tanganku mulai dingin kemudian gemetar. Tarian jariku melambat ketika kurasakan tiap ruasnya mulai membeku. Jantungku berdegup begitu hebatnya dalam kepanikan dan satu dua butir keringat dingin mengaliri punggungku ketika kusadari kata-kata yang kugoreskan mulai tampak tak nyata.

Aku lemah tak berdaya menatap kertas dan penaku nanar. 
Kuhentikan goresan tinta yang mengalir. Jemariku yang semula menari-nari kini dingin dan kaku. Aku terisak pilu dalam keputusasaan ketika kupandangi penaku.
Lihatlah, tinta didalamnya mulai mengering.
Aku berhenti menulis.