Seperti juga aku, namamu siapa bukan?
Kau melihat langit yang sama, merasakan desir angin yang sama berseteru dengan rembulan.
Di bawahmu, tanah berderak dalam diam.
Hingar bingar di antara ketiadaan.
Tahun-tahunmu tersiram rumpun jarum, dibingkai ilalang, dan kau terus terduduk hingga kau dapat kembali berdiri.
Saat itu belum juga sampai -- mungkin tak akan pernah -- sejauh yang kau ingat.
Dalam ingatanmu, langit itu selalu biru warnanya, selalu warna biru yang salah, warna biru yang tak kau setujui.
Sepasang lututmu tak mau lagi menopang tubuhmu jika langit terus membangkangmu seperti itu.
Jadi kau terduduk, menunggu.
Lama.
Tapi langit belum juga berubah menjadi seperti yang kau inginkan.
Dan kau menunggu hingga ia berubah hitam, karena hitam patuh padamu.
Menjagamu.
Hitam tidak pernah ingkar janji.

hai ._.

udah lama aku nggak curhat. akhir-akhir ini blog isinya cuma sampah photoshop dan kata-kata usil yang keserimpet di kepala pas sedang berguling gelisah di kasur, mencoba tidur.

akhir masa sma. maaf, kali ini kita lowercase-an ria dulu. akhir masa sma, awal yang baru. glek.

akhir masa sma-ku uneventful, kalian bisa bilang begitu. aku berhasil lulus, sama kayak yang lainnya. aku ga kena snmptn seperti beberapa dari temen-temenku.aku ikut sbmptn, sama kayak ribuan pelajar di indonesia yang lain. aku sama dengan kalian.

tapi tahun terakhir sma-ku sarat kegelisahan. mungkin itu yang nggak sama dengan kalian. awal yang baru ini beban. aku nggak pernah bayangin bakal gini akhirnya.

gini gimana?

gini gimana? gini itu pindah ke sebuah tempat yang jauh dari rumah, ranselmu berat dengan barang-barang dan pernak-pernik yang akan kalian rindukan semisal ditinggal. anxiety-mu memuncak. tempat baru. teman baru. kebiasaan baru.

ahh kedengeranya biasa kan? toh banyak anak kuliah merantau. yakan?

tapi masalahnya bukan di situ. pas aku nulis ini aku di kamar, yang aku tempati selama enam jam terakhir, dengan pikiran yang gak mau diajak kompromi. pikiran ini nggak mau diajak istirahat. tanganku keringetan dan anxiety sialan itu, yang sebenarnya udah ada dari lama hanya baru disadari keebradaannya di tahun terakhir sma, is wrecking my brain, tossing me like rags in a washing machine.

ini bukan tempatmu, katanya.

ini bukan yang kamu mau

kenapa kamu biarkan orang lain memilihkan masa depanmu?

kalian gausah takut. aku belum depressed kok. aku nggak depressed. iya kok aku baik baik saja. mungkin ini proses penyesuaian atau apalah itu. maybe in a few week's time i'll be fine.

tapi aku nggak bisa deny kalau ini emang bukan yang aku mau. salah nggak sih, minta kesempatan untuk memperjuangkan passion-mu? is that too much to ask? mungkin.

aku fully aware kok nulis disini mungkin ada yang baca mungkin tidak. aku nggak minta disemangati. aku cuma butuh ini untuk keluar, gitu aja.

aku cuma pengen bilang that i'm not okay. 

aku cuma butuh fakta bahwa aku mempertimbangkan untuk memulai lagi tahun depan itu, ada saksi bisunya.

udah gitu aja.

photoshop's ruining my life

I was woken up with a seething rage this morning. It was a bitmap of you, black and white, with your arm around her like a shield, pursed lips, half-lidded eyes.

I've never felt so dizzy.

You used to be a safe place for me to retreat when things go wrong, when I want to reach for something but they're just too far away and I couldn't accept that. You and your soulful voice like butter dripping, like waves hitting rocks on a windy Saturday. You and your hazel eyes, brooding in vacancy like you know you've got nothing to lose. The ink on your skin. The glide of your hands on round surfaces, on any surface.

I couldn't have that anymore. You're too different now. Are you even 'you' anymore? Are you the same person I trusted my heart with years ago?

These questions are killing me, and every substance in my veins are loathing the stunts you pulled. But my skin crawls at the thought of losing you forever, even if it's just a consideration.

I hate you. Please come back. Be the person I knew.

Can you hear that? 

I hate you so much, now please slip back into the shell you've long forgotten, so that I can recognise you.

Let me know you once more.

Can Harry stop being a fake ho and start hanging out with Zayn again and leave The Azzoffs and Ben Winston because I need my Zarents -_-

“

1. You are stronger than you realise.
2. You are crueller than you realise.
3. The smallest words will break your heart.
4. You will change. You’re not the same person you were three years ago. You’re not even the same person you were three minutes ago and that’s okay. Especially if you don’t like the person you were three minutes ago.
5. People come and go. Some are cigarette breaks, others are forest fires.
6. You won’t like your name until you hear someone say it in their sleep.
7. You’ll forget your email password but ten years from now you’ll still remember the number of steps up to his flat.
8. You don’t have to open the curtains if you don’t want to.
9. Never stop yourself texting someone. If you love them at 4 a.m., tell them. If you still love them at 9.30 a.m., tell them again.
10. Make sure you have a safe place. Whether it’s the kitchen floor or the Travel section of a bookshop, just make sure you have a safe place.
11. You will be scared of all kinds of things, of spiders and clowns and eating alone, but your biggest fear will be that people will see you the way you see yourself.
12. Sometimes, looking at someone will be like looking into the sun. Sometimes someone will look at you like you are the sun. Wait for it.
13. You will learn how to sleep alone, how to avoid the cold corners but still fill a bed.
14. Always be friends with the broken people. They know how to survive.
15. You can love someone and hate them, all at once. You can miss them so much you ache but still ignore your phone when they call.
16. You are good at something, whether it’s making someone laugh or remembering their birthday. Don’t ever let anyone tell you that these things don’t matter.
17. You will always be hungry for love. Always. Even when someone is asleep next to you you’ll envy the pillow touching their cheek and the sheet hiding their skin.
18. Loneliness is nothing to do with how many people are around you but how many of them understand you.
19. People say I love you all the time. Even when they say, ‘Why didn’t you call me back?’ or ‘He’s an asshole.’ Make sure you’re listening.
20. You will be okay.
21. You will be okay.

”

— 21 things my father never told me

A re-post from Ivy Butler's letter to her imaginary friend.

It mended me, it broke me, it mends me again.

Sometimes, noises make him wants to throw up. They're pounding their way into his head with no delicacy whatsoever. Not like after he drinks a little bit too many red wine at the booth in the corner of darkness to dull the invading exhaustion after classes and jobs. Those are where noises in his life formed themselves. So many blinding colors, stomping under his eyelids that on his most painful hours, he wishes to live in a universe where he doesn't have to long for a peaceful, eternal sleep anymore.

NIGHT CHANGES BATCHES

Lagi nge-date sama One Direction nih. Mau ikut?

KARL THE SHOEMAKER

"The right shoe left,
knowing that the left shoe was right."

Ketika semua temanmu punya hal lebih menarik untuk dilakukan di Friday Night ketimbang duduk fangirling-an depan layar komputer dan kamu hanya bisa mengelus dada, menghibur diri dengan pathetic-nya bahwa setidaknya kamu masih punya Harry Styles.

Oberon di Antara Nisan Para Bintang

Mungkin suatu hari, saat tanah di bawah kakiku berhenti bergetar dan abaimu akan kehadiranku berhenti membuatku sesak napas, aku akan berhenti melihatmu sebagai Oberon yang emas, berparas halus, dan bersinar. Berhenti mengamatimu diam-diam dari rongga gelap di kejauhan seperti yang dilakukan Echo pada Narcissus. Kau bukan lagi raja peri atau makhluk yang mampu membuat bunga layu akan kecemburuan pada dirimu. Bukan lagi Smaug yang merisaukanku akan ancaman seratus lima puluh tahun. Kau akan jadi dirimu. Seonggok daging membungkus tulang yang dilapisi kulit dan bisa bicara. Manusia yang menengadah terus menatap Saturnus dan cincinnya, meyakini bahwa takdir menyimpankan sesuatu di sana untukmu, hingga kau lupa bahwa ada seseorang yang akan menghadiahkanmu palung laut dan magma gunung. Melukiskan bunyi rintik hujan dan membekukan Sahara, jika kau minta. 

Jadi, teruslah tatap kekosongan hitam itu. Sampai kau sadar bahwa dunia telah berakhir dan kau telah berhenti bernapas, menghabiskan hidupmu bermimpi mengatur ulang angkasa. Teruslah tatap sang latar gelap, sampai akhirnya kau menyadari bahwa dunia yang ingin kau pijak dan tinggali itu hanyalah kuburan bintang-bintang.

Sleman, 29 Oktober 2014

"Betapa bodohnya aku, mengira
hanya dirikulah bunga di tamanmu."

Ada Cerita di Suatu Pagi

Ada cerita di suatu pagi
Tentang denting jemari
Dan hembusan angin
yang memenjarakan rindu
Mengikat tepiannya pada gerigi atap
Lekat, meski didera hujan

Cerita di suatu pagi
Melafalkan makna kulit
di atas kulit
Berkisar di pelataran rutuk
yang menganak sungai
Gemericik sunyi, menyingkap letih
yang tersembunyi

Di suatu pagi
Berkisah langit pada rumpun nimbus
Berkisah terang mentari pada Icarus
Berkisah rumput pada janji-janji lampus

Suatu pagi
Hangat menjelma jadi emas
Siluet menjelma jadi berlian
Insan menjelma jadi arang

Pagi
Saat semua pungguk, pesakitan,
tersembuhkan
Lalu kembali sekarat


5 September 2014

Siluet menjelma jadi berlian

15 Questions Tumblr Challenge (2)

If you could have been told one thing that you weren’t told when you were a teenager, what would you like to have heard?

I'm still a teenager though.

Sometimes I wish someone would call me beautiful, someone who weren't my parents. However I think it is stupid and kind of creepy but really relatable for most teenage girls so that's it.

Most of the time I'd like people to tell me that I matter. Not just for social manner and sweet revelation, but because they really do think and feel that I matter. This. 

And the last, I want to be told anything people feel about me, good or bad, and how I affect them and how they want to react around me, to create any impression in my presence for certain reaction, or whether it was worth it to do so for me. Whether or not I make them feel.

I'm still a teenager though, so who knows.

Caserolle.. Eh, Casserole

Assalamualaikum :)

Sudah lama saya tidak menggunakan kata 'saya' dan menyapa dengan sok alim :p

Hufft, akhirnya selesai juga rangkaian acara akhir pekan ini. Walaupun lelah, tapi nyenengin dan banyak banget manfaatnya. Acara apakah itu? 

Apa yaaaaa??

Ceritanya besok aja ya. Soalnya sekarang mau cerita yang lain.

Ceritanya tentang casserole. Tapi sebelum kalian membaca cerita saya tentang casserole, saya harus cerita sejarah panjangnya dulu. Oke? Oke.

Saya adalah seorang fangirl. Dan sebagaimana kalian ketahui, para fangirl itu sudah biasa malming-an nggak keluar, tapi malah pada baca fanfic. Kalian jangan salah dulu. Fanfic itu bukan cuma buat seneng-seneng imajinasi ketemu artis dan blah blah blah. Ada komunitas fanfic yang 'niat' banget sampai bikin awards tiap enam bulan sekali. Award-nya nggak main-main. Teknik menulis dinilai, kesegaran ide dinilai, tata bahasa (berhubung kebanyakan komunitas fanfic internasional, jadi pake bahasa Inggris) dinilai, potrayal atau penggambaran karakter tokoh yang diperankan artisnya juga dinilai.

Ada satu fanfic di One Direction Fan Fiction yang judulnya Sugar on the Asphalt. Gula di atas Aspal. Haha. Ceritanya tentang cewek Amerika bernama Graceland Ainsworth yang berasal dari daerah kota kecil di Tennesse. Itu lhoo, daerah yang terkenal gegara musik country-nya yang rada koboi itu. Grace, panggilannya Graceland ini kabur di umur sembilan belas tahun ke London karena suatu konflik keluarga. Di London, Grace kerja jadi asisten rumah tangga sekaligus pengasuh anak dari bussinesswoman yang namanya Rebecca. Terus suatu hari Grace disuruh anterin paket sama Rebecca dan dipinjemin mobil buat nganter. Grace-nya kan bingung karena belum familiar sama daerahnya, dan dia muter-muter nyari tempatnya dan tanpa sadar dia nabrak seseorang. Seseorang itu adalaah... Harry Styles. Dan dari situlah cerita dimulai.

Winter Drawing/Writing Challenge (Day 1-Sweater)

My alliance with sweaters started long ago, before I can even spell my name or count to ten or distinguish purple from a spectrum of reds. I can measure it outside the bonds of academic marks. I wore sweaters long before I can feed myself.

The first sweater of my childhood memory was one that was knitted, orange and blue with cute little black buttons on the chest as an accent. It was a little itchy but very very warm. I liked it so much that I wore them almost every night, as I cheer over the moon or the ceilings of my old bedroom, which was the coldest room in the house. It kept me warm. It protected me, hugging me just the way I like it.

But that sweater caught my earrings too often with its woolen threads. When I woke up I'd find myself pulling my earring out of the mess and as a result, the thread loosened. I ruined it, and I was only three.

Since then I asked my mom for more sweater and refuse to wear jackets. I didn't care if they were itchy or soft, because I felt like it protected me. From the haunting cold, ghosts under my bed, monsters in the cabinet, and the thoughts of the stars collapsing to the ground and then the nights went colder, untouched.

Sweater and winter, perfect match. When winter comes I'd laundry all my sweater by myself and put them in order by their thickness. Thin, medium, thick, super thick, medium. So that I can caress them over. From top to bottom and feel myself slipping away to the years that I've passed, or the years that passed me.

In winter, they'd smell like cloves and coffee beans, and maybe a little cinnamon and jasmine. That's because I go the coffee shop a lot in winter. Inhaling crisp air and letting sun leaking its light through my flesh and into my bones on the way, running my fingers on the fabrics. Just because.

They might be hidden under coats and capes, but nothing I'd rather cover myself with than its warmth. Its steady warmth.

My alliance with sweaters started long ago, and it won't end soon.

15 Questions Tumblr Challenge (1)

You were just given a yacht. What would you name it?

 I'd name it Hector, or Granada. Depends on how it looks like. And if it looks like both Hector and Granada, then I'll just think of a proper ship name.

See what I did there?

Real Tragedy: We Fear The Thing We Want The Most

thomas-hanks.tumblr.com

Early in the morning, when time starts poking on the clouds trying to make them move to another sky flesh, where people still need them to protect their unopened gaze, I found myself sitting on the edge of my messy bed. Exhaling, inhaling, exhaling, wondering.

Wondering that there are people in another side of the city, fearing heights and capturing lights, drinking them with their hungry eyes. That there are people who lived without choruses, sounds, only bruises and wounds. Of them who catch the stars but release them again because they don't know how to keep them. Or clueless on who to present those blazing sky stones. Because it wouldn't matter if no one knows, right?

It wouldn't because what's there to live for without a little pride? What's there to be proud of without a little leaked secret upfront?

Claudia Kincaid agreed with me. Agreeing with human beings' natural yearn. That we all need something to be proud of. A known secret.


“Secrets are the kind of adventure she needs. Secrets are safe, and they do much to make you different. On the inside where it counts.” 
― E.L. Konigsburg, From the Mixed-Up Files of Mrs. Basil E. Frankweiler

And for having something to be proud of, we have to overcome our fears.

Si Oto

Halo gaes :)

Gaes gaes. Emang ada yang baca?

Yaudah halo aja kalo gitu. Sip.

Kan jadi selama ini aku tuh setengah budek gitu.

Duh. Kan. Jelek banget kan jadinya. "Kan jadi selama ini aku tuh setengah budek gitu."
Betapa mengenaskan cara saya menceritakan ini-___-

Jadi kan sejak beberapa waktu lalu kupingku yang kiri rada budek terus sakit terus. Rasanya kayak disetrum setrum gitu. Tapi lebih sakit. (Ha-_-) Terus kan diperiksain ke dokter umum yang namanya Mbak Sekar, dan telingaku ditetesin suatu cairan yang bica berbusa dengan gemilangnya. Cairannya tuh kayak mendidih dalem telinga tapi nggak panas. Keren deh.

Pas ditetesin Mbak Sekar bilang gini, "Kalo perih teriak aja ya dek."

Aku iyain aja soalnya lagi was-was. Tapi ternyata emang nggak perih, cuma aneh gitu rasanya ada yang gerak-gerak. Terus aku malah ketawa, padahal pintu kamar UGD kliniknya kebuka dan seisi ruang tunggu ngelihatin aku. Tatapan mereka macam X-Ray di malam yang pekat gelap gulita. Menembus tulang dan mengguncang jiwa.

Kayak apaan aja..

Lupakan.

Abis ditetesin, kok telingaku malah jadi tambah sakit. Rahangku kaku sampe makan aja nggak bisa, gigiku ngilu, migren parah sampe tidur cuma satu setengah jam. Aku jadi semacam parno tidur dan parno makan. Sungguh mengenaskan.

Mbak Sekar bilang itu cuma buat ngebersihin aja. Telingaku dicuci pake cairan H2O2 kalo nggak salah. Terus sama Mbak Sekar dikasih antibiotik yang namanya Otolin.

Yaudah.

Yaudah apa?

“Memory is like patches of sunlight in an overcast valley, shifting with the movement of the clouds. Now and then the light will fall on a particular point in time, illuminating it for a moment before the wind seals up the gap, and the world is in shadows again.” - Twan Eng Tan, The Garden of Evening Mists (Fall 2011)