5

thriving

I should write, told me to myself each day I feel inspired. But then again, there’s no word appear in my pc screen. I’m that stuck. The words and ideas are scrambling out everywhere inside my head, and I hate that I couldn’t make them agreed to become paragraphs. Welp, I’m on the edge of nineteen and thinking all the things that could perpetuate my last day being an adolescence. So I’m ended up here.

Out of all the fun things life could give us human I still can not choose stuff that I could tell if people ask me to recap these nineteen years long. Nothing, my dear. We experience emptiness and nothingness and then get left behind with emotional stuff which is torturing ourselves.so.much. And I spent most days of my life by sitting on my couch wondering lots of things, which are 1)  Life gave me thought to think about—and not experiencing the atmosphere of music festival instead. No wonder why I’m so curious how the air felt like, isn’t it tasted as i felt here inside my house? Anyone care to give me an understanding?

By that I hope you could make some conclusion that I haven’t been really out at 10 PM and afterward. The strict curfew I lived with since I decided to be born, got me very very very not comfortable if by any chance I’m not at home yet at night. And to be a literal frank, I’ve passed years to finally accepting the rules that restrained me for a long time. I had passed time with the sadness of why I can’t be like the other kids. This anxiety is not really cool until I, eventually, decided to acknowledge myself completely.

Due to my personal goals to give birth a book by twenty, I’m nowhere near finish them.  So dear inspiration, impregnate me. I’m patient enough to postpone the delivery day so, yeah, do it. And then arts, in my experience my arts born from heartbreaks or at least an emptiness. But lately there’s no such a thing messing with me, which is I didn’t feel anything at all, and it inhibits me to make any art. Nonetheless, I didn’t know if I’m competence enough to give birth whether its art or book, but just let this music-festival-virgin  to be happy and eventually be able to achieves her goals.

Oh I love life. This noun also 2)  Gave me feeling to be felt. Why the hell I should feel in love with another human and why the hell I should spend my lot of my precious time to felt the sadness of the young heartbreaks. Why the hell I should have some emotional moments that made my mind and heart collided it’s each self every time I feel so emotional about life, even though life is the one that gave me those turmoil. I once read a statement: Relationship is easy until there's an emotional turmoil. Why the hell I’m not confident enough to believe that I’m fine, I’m good at relationship with people instead of overthinking the nonsense thoughts and feelings. And Why the hell there are no other people enlighten me with some words like Hey dude, they both are not facts.

I have to admit that without both of it, life tastes less funny. The entire riots going on in my head and heart, shaped me while I’m growing up. Adulting, oh adulting, here we come.  I wonder if I will see myself ten years from now as a kid trapped inside an adult body, which is very weird, so sometimes adulting scares me enough. I’m scared that I will be stuck in this endless spiral and never get a chance to explore more. I’m scared that I couldn’t be expressing myself. And I’m scared to death that I couldn’t be determined.

Calm down, they’re not facts.

Instead, the fact is that within three days. My dad passed away exactly six years ago. I haven’t been talked about him in public for a long time, because to be honest, it does not feel really good to invite the sadness to be around. And within six years, there are so many things I have encountered without his presence, which I always think, It will be so much easier with him. It definitely always be. The good times will be better with him. The jokes will be funnier with him. Flashback to the day I wore cute tank-top and strolling around near my house when I was nine, He came back with an utterly wonder look. Now I wonder what would he think about my recent appearance since we haven’t met for six years. And for that, I’m sorry if I disappoint you, I love you. I miss you.

By the time I write this, I play the Wishful Thinking by Earl Klugh, as you used to play it every Sunday morning.

I hope this nonsense talks of mine could perpetuate something that camera couldn’t. All memories that remain. All thoughts that maturate. All feelings that bloom. Change is inevitable, but I, choose to thrive.

Cheers for the good life ahead.

4

 sincere 

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It's nothing more than a campaign to love yourself and be happy with your existence. For me, the first thing to do is being sincere to ourselves. It's the next level of acknowledging yourself. It's all about gathering your every part, souls, segmentations, and turn that into positive energy. And then, what else I believe is when you are genuinely and sincerely happy, everything is good, are literally, comes along.

3

life is a long, screwed journey to make your own definition of both cruel and pleased situations.
| writing prompt #1

2

Me in Crucial Times: a Metaphor Of The Moon Phases.

I once read a sentence, “..My life is pretty about the here and now.” And I thought it sums up my current situation as a living thing, talking about the idea of the present. Because I’m living here, in the present.

On a particular time, I see life is just a blurry and chaotic trajectory that I needed to ride in. My head a bit messed, I’m somehow exploding inside of it. On my crucial times, I love love love love being alone—not alone like lost in the crowd, but alone. Just being serene in such severe times.  A perfect set of that me-time concept, don’t forget the hot tea and nice meals. Ok, start to contemplate. At first I hope for inspiration to come but sadly, the breakdown feeling hits instead. The period of: I'm genuinely wrong for some points. I’m inside of the humongous maze, and shit, my head resonances the same voice that tells me to run.

Tell me where. I don’t know. The clue is not enclosed yet. What I know it just far. Out of the league, and what league. You are in the center of a red line. No, I ain't longer have a red fucking line, what is line either. These chaotic things spread everywhere. I vaguely see the lines, or I just.................. transmigrated to the edge. So obviously, I can’t see the line.

I remember of words I wrote back in 2017.

“ Tell me a story 

About a place in far.

a place, at one point that describes your far.”

Now tell me where. Where’s that point. What is far.

The common definition of far couldn’t size in my head anymore. I do not understand. Back then, I was sensing as a person, the definition might include some unrequited love story shits. It was a period of time where longing means reflecting, when aching means pouring, when loving means creating. As a person where’s not born as an artist, I called them art.

But in a present? 

Something changing, something is not the same. I’m losing myself over and over again, me in that point of longing is not me in this point of longing. The two longings here are facing different directions. I might be longing human back then, but I’m now longing myself. My true veins.

Whoops I'm being cliche to brought that identity crisis again. 

But we are indeed destined to go to some places—randomly—and long story short, it makes we are here now. ......And where am I.  I keep thinking things on my head, that very vague and not vivid, random and abstract—and it kinda makes me insane sometimes. I haven’t any conclusion yet, I’m still running in this trajectory. Now, how about being teleported to your final destination. I hate that I’m not very curious about my final destination. By the end of the day, we are merely a dead body with our names written on the grave. We only discover a character in that process towards the final. What character am I someday? Will I be someone I imagine as me later? 

The idea of me is represented by me on the surface. That leads me to wonder about the other crazy statement: There might be another soul underneath my soul. It just hiding somewhere, dancing in my mind. It was just a glimpse mind before I started to truly contemplate about this. I know I'm crazy but I hate to think that this probably a big deal. The soul that doesn’t want to comes up to the surface, the ‘me’ I wish to be,  the ‘me’ that probably is in another dimension, they are also me, right? I’m today living me today, with some responsibilities that accompanying annoying me. If I left those, I’m still me, right? Do I become something else? Do I transform into another human? 

Each of eight phases of the moon is still called moon by the way. The Crescent, the first quarter, the full moon, they're just a moon for me before I googling for each name. Moon Phases are a cool metaphor to understanding the crazy idea about 'soul' from me. Until now, let's pretend that Moon Phases is the ideal model for understanding every presence of human souls.

In a nutshell, What I really want to say is, there’s a separation between the definition of you in what the actual you and you in what you are supposed to be—and in this case will include some parameter. And yes, This crazy doctrine hopes you to believe that we structured by lots of layers.  Think about it.

The next question is discovering how many layers that compose me.

I assume, If you run in a trajectory where it finished at your death day, you running in the flat-monotonous trajectory. If you running and don’t give a damn about the moon that keeps following you and keeps changing its shapes, you running in the rounded cycle. It means you are not thinking about the needs for change. You’re not coming back at the precise shape you were. Consciously or not, you’re transforming into other you.

So let’s run far, far in terms vertically, not horizontally.

Tell me where?

To the deepest layer of you. Tell them to come.

————————————————————————————————————

I thought it will be a cool deal.

1

To Find Me: An Expedition

Ketika jantung manusia hilang—bukan berhenti berdetak—hanya saja hilang, dalam pengertian paling konyol, berdetak namun kehilangan jantung. Manusia, binatang berakal dan rasional itu, berbondong-bondong berupaya mencarinya, mengembalikan dirinya ke titik semula. Memanusiakan (sisi) manusianya.  Hidup sekali lagi seperti reinkarnasi. Merasakan rasanya bernafas bebas, bahkan jika tanpa oksigen.

Ada harapan jauh dilubuk hati, untuk suatu hari bebas dari segala bentuk eksploitasi, bahkan dari diri sendiri. Mungkin hari ini saya masih mengeksploitasi diri sendiri, dari segala nilai yang eksistensinya hanya bersifat temporer. Bicara mengenai nilai, begini, sesungguhnya saya benci angka-angka tertentu yang gunanya untuk mengukur, dan mengukur disini berkaitan dengan nilai. Kemudian, Nilai mengacu pada kadar hidup seseorang, yang pada akhirnya melahirkan pretensi tertentu. Pretensi ini adalah ‘jubah’ yang dapat kita tentukan. Namun teman-teman, sayangnya, telah kita sadari bahwa mungkin hari ini, bahkan soal pretensi dimuka publik  atau jubah yang kita kenakan, tak lagi hanya dapat kita tentukan oleh diri sendiri. Semua hal yang mampu mengukur kita, juga mampu menentukan jenis jubah apa yang akan kita kenakan.

when did life become a blur?

Di awal umur 20, saya mengalami situasi-situasi ngambang. Umur 17-18 saya clueless,  dan hari ini di paruh 19 tahun, “I need subtitles for this life i am living” menjadi definisi paling sempurna untuk menjelaskan kegilaan saya sekarang. Saya bisa menangis terus bahagia lagi, saya bisa bahagia terus menangis lagi. Setiap hari ada saja pertanyaan mengenai ‘Hidup’ dan jawaban yang saya anggap tidak masuk nalar untuk dilahap habis demi memahaminya.

Bagaimana dengan jantung yang hilang? Tentunya masih. Saya masih kehilangan identitas saya, dan sedang ditengah ekspedisi menemukannya. Untuk (semoga) dapat kembali merasakan esensi hidup dengan jantung (amin). Di atas identitas sendiri, nama dan jati diri sendiri.

Yang membuat saya mulai menulis yakni kegamangan terhadap pertanyaan tentang hidup, rasanya sukar sekali tinggal di dunia. Rasanya ada saja kendala. Dan sebelum mengantarkan saya untuk berani menulisnya, saya sudah paham benar bagaimana rasanya menolak fakta mengenai mungkin lo hanya kurang bersyukur, kurang berempati, kurang bersedekah, dan mungkin terlalu sering melihat ke atas, beserta teman-temannya. Namun, nyatanya saya selalu bermuara di tengah ruang kamar saya dalam keadaan mata basah dan bertanya-tanya.

Beberapakali saya bertanya kepada teman-teman, “Hidup lo bahagia gak?” dan dengan terkejut, tidak sedikit yang bilang tidak. Dan saya mulai memiliki jawaban atas pertanyaan saya sendiri, dengan cara mendengar orang-orang. Memahami medan seperti apa yang mereka lalui. Bagaimana cara mereka bertahan dan melaluinya. Padahal, sebelumnya saya sudah tidak asing dengan frase mengenai hidup seseorang yang berbeda-beda, masalah yang dihadapi pun berbeda-beda, dan cara menyikapinya tentu berbeda-beda pula. Tapi yang tak saya temukan disana, adalah pemahaman dari diri saya sendiri. Rupanya, hidup tidak melulu tentang nasehat. Rupanya, belajar sendiri jauh melebihi dari hanya mendengar nasehat orang lain. Karena, ingat, medan kita berbeda-beda.

What we need to highlight here is terkadang, we only see some parts of us that we lack about. Sayangnya segala perasaan—hal-hal yang berbau emosional—tak dapat di atur dengan mudah. Saya tak bisa menyuruh hati bahagia ketika sedang tidak, dan begitu sebaliknya. Semua lahir murni karena kondisi yang sedang kita alami. Perasaan murung mengantarkan kita kemari. Ke titik terendah yang kami miliki, bermuram, berharap dunia tiba-tiba menjadi sesuai harapan kita. Hal yang saya kerap lupakan bahwa, saya ditaruh di dunia atas perintah-Nya, untuk menjalani trajektori yang sudah diberikan. Soal suka atau tidak, mau atau tidak, baik atau buruk, itu sudah jauh letaknya dari tangan manusia. Toh katanya begini, Tuhan telah memberikan hidup yang paling baik untuk hamba-Nya. Dan mengenai kesukaran, Tuhan pun tak memberikan tingkat yang tak mampu hamba-Nya lewati. Jadi, bagaimana cara terbaik untuk tidak terenyuh kepada bagian-bagian dari diri kita yang kita kira kurang—padahal memang sudah dari sananya diberi jenis trajektori seperti ini?

Mungkin rasanya sulit untuk tidak melakukan perbandingan. Untuk tidak memperhatikan lubang-lubang dari diri kita. Untuk menimbulkan persepsi atas hidup orang lain yang terlihat menyenangkan. Kadang kita lupa rasanya bahagia, sampai begitu ingin untuk menjadi bahagia. Ingin menjadi seragam seperti orang lain: memiliki barang yang bernilai, tempat tinggal yang baik, kekasih yang penyayang, orang tua yang kaya raya. Ingin ini ingin itu.

Dan, apa juga sebenarnya motif untuk menjadi seragam ditengah kehidupan sosial? living here where we buy something only by clicks and get it later on, we hella need an approval. Untuk dinilai pantas berada ditengah mereka. Untuk menjadi bagian dari mereka. Untuk dilihat dan divalidasi. Kemudian lagi-lagi, inilah bagaimana ‘mereka’ memutar otak kita agar mencari cara untuk mengenakan sejenis pretensi yang ada, sehingga layak berselancar dilautan..... dimana sebagian besar orang-orang seperti kita dengan insecurity yang juga besar—mengapung dengan jubah-jubah mereka.

Menjelaskan ini semua terasa seperti menjilat ludah sendiri.  As I early said, saya benci dengan adanya angka-angka tak kasat mata yang berguna untuk mengukur kadar hidup seseorang. Dan mengenai pretensi demi validasi, saya harus bilang hal ini ikut melahap saya, sehingga saya di hari ini, memandang hidup bagai bayangan kabur. Saya hendak namai ini sebagai tragedi psikologi, tapi apa daya, saya hanya seorang awam. Namun, perlu digarisbawahi, semua hal yang mengguncang keseimbangan otak saya ini, yang menjadikan pandangan hidup kabur, mengantar saya kepada suatu fakta: bahwa saya sedang dalam ekspedisi.

Untuk menemukan jantung saya, sehingga (semoga) nantinya saya tak lagi menggunakan jubah atau pretensi, hanya semata-mata ingin divalidasi. (Amin)