Saturday, 18 February 2017

The truth about your crush

The reason why your crush doesn't answer you
is because you look pathetic when you are in love

Mistake your gut as an empty stomach
A locked chest of a rusty drawer
A cold bed inside a vacant motel room

You can go on and on
Giving a body to loneliness
Borrowing the saddest words
from your vocabulary
Use them as an emotional spotlight
So everybody pays attention
To the dab of salt
The stream of water
running down your cheek

When your crush doesn't answer you
is because you act the way you shouldn't

Like begging on a sidewalk, (but you have everything you need)
Like carrying a hollow center, (but you are a whole)
Like falling towards the wrong gravity, (but you have a perfect pair of legs to stand on)
Like unappealing, pure grossness, (but you are just fine)

The person you admire secretly
wakes up into a grey sky morning
Reaches his hand to the empty side of the bed
He is probably too busy repairing what's been broken
Like those legs of the empty chair
Like cracks on the fortress' wall
Like a jammed drawer
Like his goddamn heart

You always think
that you won't fit on the chair
But you'll lend a hand anyway
You'll push the emergency door
Because you're a fixer

Don't
Clearly,
don't
Clearly,
you don't
have to
be anything to him

The reason why your crush doesn't answer is
because he wasn't meant to
because he shouldn't

A poem about Manchester United

I don't give a damn about football
or English soccer whatever
you call it I don't
remember the
name of
those
famous
football clubs

I don't know what league it is
But I remember
Manchester
United

because it is
your favorite
team

It has been a month of your absence
and the maid has replaced my
fake LV bedsheet with
a flat spread of red
Manchester
United
sheet

I have known nothing about
Manchester United
until you bragged
and sang the
anthems

The Red Devil, that's what it is called
Just like the thought of you
makes me feel impure
and mad

Making love on that fake brown LV sheet
I have never been fully naked for
anyone I used to be so
fierce before I
let you in

Playing on my body like it was
a football field forcing and
pulling trying to make
a goal

I invited you in because I could not
help myself and I thought
you looked like a keeper
a red devil himself

but I am not
a goalie
honey

Now we are out of our games
I still keep the red card
you gave me

Keep the smirk away
because you are
not the only
referee

until wee meet again
fuck you
and this Manchester United bedsheet

Thursday, 16 February 2017

Losing my religion, finding God



I have never thought that one point I would question about what's happening around me. What are served on the silver platter. My mom always says that "religion" comes first and you shouldn't deny the gift of religion to humankind. Religion regulates and directs us towards a better way of life.

I am a person of faith. I pray regularly. I hesitate when someone asks me out for a drink. I avoid having sexual contacts. However that doesn't stop me to make friends with people from different religious backgrounds, that includes free thinkers and atheists, namely these people whom my mom never become friends with.

Now, seeing everybody destroys family, relationship and even a country by using the words of a religion or a way of life is just making my faith thin. I know that it doesn't have always to do anything with me, but there comes a point, where I feel lost.

I do not want to abandon religion, because I hate to abandon or betray God. For He has given all the best things for me. I don't want to upset Him. I am a practitioner of my faith. But now, I slowly practice less and less, because I don't see there is any point to hide this confusion and spiritual battle to him. I believe that He can read the deepest thoughts and emotions that I barely even feel or say. It is just a waste to pretend my ways to Him. I see religion as discipline and order, and God is where I lay my spirituality and faith.

I am not an easily-influenced person. I am actually rather stubborn and critical. It doesn't mean that I set my value because I befriend people with different views, I think this view develops over time as my logic and empathy grow.

At the end, I achieve peace. I don't want to identify myself with any religion or practice. But I want to always identify myself as a person of faith, the human of God, who is intelligent, wise and peace-loving. I am not a saviour, but I will do my best to spread kindness, comfort, strength and wisdom I have to people around me.

For people who knows me, this may not what you want to hear from me, but this is my truth and I am not going to promote my belief/truth to you. Writing this means I am giving myself a sense of peace, acceptance, courage and reminder of who I truly am. 

Thursday, 26 January 2017

Reflections before turning 25

fuck, I have lived a quarter of century!


I am turning 25 this coming April. This is crazy. I look forward to more days I am older and now I am reaching 25.

My friends said that the age 25 is the year people will experience some turning points in their life. I agree.

From the age 20 to 24, I am so used to being single and independent. I have never asked my parents for financial support, nevertheless, they still give some to me. Yet, I still think I have a giant ball of problems in my life. I let myself feel depressed when there is nothing to worry about. Maybe it tells how ambitious and hard I am to myself.

The truth is, I used to have a cushion when I to fall and make mistakes.

But now approaching 25, I realize I am that cushion.

There is no room of making anymore mistakes.

Yes, I do want to travel and make arts. I will continue doing that, except I realize that I have people who depend on me.

It is so upsetting, knowing that friends of my ages, they look so carefree. If they are earning money, it is for them to save up. If they are travelling or shopping luxuriously, I bet it is their parents' money or sugardaddy's or their husband's... (I know I shouldn't be cynical but I couldn't help it.)

Anyway, they look like as if they are living their lives to the fullest because they only care about what matter to them.

For me? Not anymore. My privilege of being tolerated and being the spoiled kid is running out.

I don't know whether to love or hate it, or if it is too soon, late or is it just the right time to face this...

However, I can see myself changing. I have to admit, I used to have the spoiled child mentality. I admit, in my early adulthood when I had to just begin working. Everything felt like a constant juggle. Every problem looked like a giant snowball.

Still, the snow ball is just keep getting bigger, it doesn't get any smaller.

But somehow I feel that I am getting bigger too. So problem and I, we are even.

In a way, I am proud of myself amidst this messed-up quarter-life crisis.

... and I thanked God for giving me an alarm that Tigress should be out when I was 24 and had less responsibility. Everything really comes in the right time.

I know this setback is both annoying and challenging, but I have never been so dead and alive at the same time.

Here is to April 24, 2017!

Thursday, 19 January 2017

When you realize that you're more lonely than you think

Image by weheartit.com

I know it is quite bad to begin the year with a sad start. Anyway Happy New Year to all of you. I am turning 25 this April and even before I grow one year older I start to feel more weight of my responsibilities.

I have been telling myself that I am good by being alone. I am confused to see other people around me who are not content if they do not have a significant other. I cannot comprehend that single people are likely tied to 'miserable'.

I was raised to be independent and I am sure that in my life, I am dedicated to create my own happiness. I can be single.  That was probably before I know what love or lust is.

By the end of the year, I was getting physically intimate with someone insignificant. It was supposed to be a fling, but my friend said I kept on talking about him like he was someone special. He was not my someone special. We happened to be in the right time and moment.

He left the country 2 nights after our short encounter. At first I was okay. In fact, I felt like a superstar. My confidence rose. I felt really good. I had never been better.

But after a month, I could not shake the emotional attachment that was growing.

While... him? He cut of all of our communication and blocked my Facebook. I knew it was supposed to end that night, but I am still very hurt by his action.

In my case, I block people because they are terrible to me. So, I really hate to believe that he blocks me under the ground that I am terrible. He was terrible himself. That night, he didn't throw out the seeds from my grapes that he ate (no, this is not a metaphor, these are actual grapes), I dropped him off to his place afterwards and paid the Uber too because he had no money. I paid for his drinks. I didn't mean to count everything. If anything, he was the terrible one!

After he left, I became lost. I did not want to want him, but it felt like I did. I lost his comfort and that makes me realize how lonely I have been. I tried to walk on the park alone, take shelters in coffeeshops that I love, watch Star Wars... but I couldn't shake my thoughts about him.

That was a brand new low. Men have hurt me before in more despicable way, but this is another level of being an asshole despicable.

I just cannot believe that I am playing a part of this kind of a classic fuckboy story. 

It is funny, upsetting and at the same time unbelievable. Because I believe that only Barney Stinson can do all of that fuckboy moves, to hit and run, but Barney Stinson is fictional! I put my trust on him. He was a good friend before the night. We played, laughed and had fun together. I thought he is just going to be cool.

At the end, I refuse to think I am the victim. I am kind but I know I don't need to condescend or pity myself. I have played the victim part just enough.

I think whatever happens, must happens.

Anyway, the bright side is, It felt so good to discover myself again and he was just the right stranger to be with. Tall, lean, athletic...we didn't speak a common language, everything is simple.

While me? I am back to find my own contentment of being alone. His disappearance might say something about myself, that I should be looking out for love. If the night didn't happen, I wouldn't find out more about myself.

Heart is the softest place to land after all.

Friday, 23 December 2016

It is not the same thing

It is not the same thing
A note to insensitive friends


When I tell you, that I cannot forget
the harrowing minutes
when a man first touched me

I don't expect to hear :
"Darling, it is the same thing"

Because it is not

It is not the same like
Making love to your boyfriend
Because there was no significance

There was nothing mutual
but our hopeless desires
to touch

It was not the same because
he didn't worship my body
but he consumed it

He hated the way
my hair fell all over my face

He hated the way
I asked him to stop
so he pretended not to listen
He sat on the edge of the bed
grunting
acting as if I was obliged
to give him
what he wanted

Do not even try to compare
this violation

Darling,
it is never the same thing

This is a recovery
A process of acceptance
This is building something
from a ground, up
or
Stopping my hands
from working on
something that
isn't meant to be built

Fly this letter to Bangkok



It is 4.18pm in the afternoon in Jakarta and I am drinking. How are you? How are you holding up? I guess you are doing fine. You are probably training, or fixing the crooked mirror in your brother's apartment or picking up your niece from school.

Let me stop right here, yes, you don't need me to find out more about you. You don't want any more of my significance. Everything was over the moment you said 'thank you' at 1am in the morning, you were about to crawl up the locked gate of your host's house.

I know and I am not supposed to expect anything more from you.

But I suppose I should not obliviate the sweet memories, and neither should you. Even if you hate me.

I bottle up the night like a mystifying liquor inside a mason jar, I can only devour whenever I want to relive on our short, drunken moment.

I want to remember the way our hands tangled, and that kiss you gave me on my cheek, as I watched the rolling streets of my city.

Do you know how much I struggle to love it, my city?

That night, the buildings became my silent witnesses. The lights from the skyscrapers flickered and blinked, as if they were winking their eyes at us. Pretend lovers at the backseat, quietly gazing the half-awaken Jakarta. There were kids knocking at our windows and selling flowers, but there was absolutely nothing to be romanticised.

I liked everything about you that night.

I liked your hands, slowly undressing me. I liked the tattoos on your arms. I liked your height and your lean muscles. I liked the way the way they felt on my hand. I still remembered how your skin slid on my fingers like velvet.

I liked my slow dance on top of your body. I had never been so confident before. The day after I rose like a Pheonix from the fire,
       the fire that slow burned me into pieces.

You have made your decision to quit me.

I agree. Everything should ended by the a.m. But I get carried away by the emotional wreckage for days, for weeks.

Yet, I don't mean to victimize myself.

I am surviving this. Taking shelter out from my bedroom, to coffeehouses and company of good friends who understand my situations.

They said I have no good reason to mourn you.

I have written stuffs about you but once is never enough. This letter will take long to finish, it will take as long as I need to heal.

I am not fighting you. I agree that we are nothing more than insignificance, crossing onto each other's paths. That happens to every wanderer.

If you have different way of quitting me, so be it. I am just going to drain you, words by words, but never the memories.

Although, I am still angry for wishing you anything good. But deep down, I do wish the best for both of us.

The next time I'll see you, it would be a different feeling. A different situation.

A championship belt strapped on your hips and a big rock on my finger.  Perhaps, a new gym and a book tour. Someday, your grown-up niece and my little baby will know each other like friends.

It is 7.29pm in Jakarta.

It is getting late in the afternoon and I am having my second cup of coffee.

Still slowly but sure,

I am getting over you.