Heading Back Home.

Mom, I’m heading back home.

Let me pack my bags and head home tomorrow. I hope you’ll be waiting for me in front of the arrival gate. Let me bring you some flowers and hug you sweet since it’s been too long that I’ve been apart from you.

Oh I know, I’m just the spoiled last child of yours who has just been apart for three months, remembering the last time I’ve went home was on March. But still, you know, things still hard out here without you around.

So Mom, I’m heading back home tomorrow.

Let me tell you stories of all the things this land has taught me already. Let me make you proud with my degree, let alone the whole world know that I’ve done my best to make you proud.

Believe me, Mom, the months I spent away from home were always the hardest. Continue reading “Heading Back Home.”



We lived a life of,

I held her hand as we walked back to the train station so neither of us would get lost. She kept talking and talking about this one game character that she’d adored since she was ten. She kept laughing at the thought of funny moments she had with her dear mates. She kept walking cheerfully as if there was nothing else that mattered at the time—although she knew stuff back home was happening chaotically in the back of her mind. And while she’s doing that, I kept looking at her features in awe.

She was just a stranger one time. She was just a blurry face that I never knew would turn my life upside down the later on. She was just one person standing in the crowd, which I never expected that her existence would knock on my door. And our fate would almost never collide if I chose something the other way around.

Sometimes I think about the possibilities that might happen throughout my life. Things would’ve been different if I chose another options. There will be some people that I could never have known if I didn’t choose to be where they are. I wouldn’t have experienced stuff if I chose the other way around. Possibilities exist like specks of dusts in every corner of the road. And I… I think I have to always feel thankful for all of those decisions I’ve made.

“Are you okay?” she snapped me out of my thought, getting me back to reality.

Continue reading “Almost.”

Reminder: What You’ll Regret.

To the guy whose eyes make her heart stop,

I just want to let you know this. There are things that can be described with words. Like the beauty of the sky that blooms into cotton candy colors on dawn. Or how the sun slowly turned all those hues into grey on dusk. Or how the stars been staring with jealousy at the moon that illuminates the night with such a delicacy. There are things that can be described with such words, indeed. But when it comes to her, words won’t just collide side by side easily.

For a fresh start, she is the kind of beauty that everyone admires because of her pretty face. Indeed, I won’t disagree with the fact that she’s pretty outside. Because she is. And everyone knows that. But, the other kind of beauty she is, is that she gives all of her for people without expecting something in returns. Thus, makes her kind of beauty radiates something more powerful than the delicacy of moon that dedicates its whole life to reflect such a light that’s never its.

On good days, she would listen to people and give that eyes of concerned for those in need. She would look constantly after people, even though in return she would only get a small hum of thank-you’s after giving all of her to them. On good days, she put people first and let alone herself be put second third fourth or so on after those people. She is too damn good of a person. One of the kind that’s constantly reminding people of every good in every bad, of every high in every low. Oh how pretty that little mind of her.

Continue reading “Reminder: What You’ll Regret.”


#NowPlaying: Banda Neira – Sampai Jadi Debu

Akan selalu ada imaji yang tertinggal mengenai seseorang di setiap langkah kepergiannya. Akan selalu ada fragmen yang mengeras mengenai setiap jejak tempat yang pernah dijejakinya. Akan selalu ada montase yang berputar mengenai kenangan yang ada dalam kepala. Akan selalu ada, bagaimanapun akhir kisahnya. Akan selalu ada, bagaimanapun cara hilangnya.

Beberapa tahun telah berlalu semenjak hari kelulusanku di tanah rantau ini, namun Bali masih secantik tahun-tahun keras penuh perjuangan yang kulalui bersama mereka yang kuanggap rumah. Aku lupa kapan persisnya, mungkin lima tahun yang lalu. Entahlah, aku sudah lupa untuk menghitung. Namun ada banyak hal yang tersimpan di setiap sudut dan jejak kota yang pernah mendewasakan sosok remaja pemberontak dalam diriku.

Setelah hari kelulusan itu berlalu, aku kembali meneruskan pencarian dalam hidupku yang tak ada habisnya. Aku melanjutkan studiku di negeri seberang yang jaraknya lebih jauh dari tanah Dewata ini, bekerja membanting tulang untuk bisa menghidupi diri di tanah yang kasurnya selalu terasa setingkat lebih keras setiap aku kembali ke studio apartemen yang menjadi tempat tinggalku di sini.

Tidak ada yang salah memang, namun beberapa tahun yang kuhabiskan seorang diri di negeri orang ini membuat diriku lupa akan sesuatu paling esensial yang sejak dulu sudah kutemukan ketika berada di antara sosok-sosok sahabat yang pada masanya pernah mendewasa bersama di tanah Dewata. Maka dari itu, ketika berita itu sampai di telingaku melalui surel yang kudapat dari seorang kawan, aku segera kembali.

Continue reading “Retrouvailles.”

In Process of Letting Go.

Working has been something I’m doing to distract myself.

Lately, just before I go back home at five, I let myself stay a couple hours longer at work just to make sure I’m exhausted enough that all I’m gonna do once I’m home is sleep. I don’t know why I’m doing this. But I think this habit has been built since the day that blue envelope arrived in my house few days ago.

It was a fancy envelope wrapped in perfect shape of bow with my name on top of it. I thought it was a friend’s wedding invitation or maybe one of my relatives’, I don’t know. But never once have I ever thought it’d be yours. Yours with your name and that one girl’s I barely know engraved with golden ink on it. I needed a few moment to proceed it, that time. I needed a few moments to swallow the reality.

After all these years, I never thought it’d be you first. I thought it’d be me. Or maybe it’d be our friends first. But I know for sure you’re never the type of person who chase girls seriously. I mean, even after all these years, our love has never collided because you never once chased me seriously. Because all you did was sitting around hoping I’d be the one to come to you that easy. You thought things will only come to you eventually. But no, I was wrong. It was you first.

Continue reading “In Process of Letting Go.”

Cinta yang Baik Itu Mendewasakan.

Cinta yang baik itu mendewasakan.

Sudah jauh lewat tengah malam dan lagi-lagi terpikir oleh saya mengenai hal-hal esensial semacam cinta. Cinta itu rumit memang—namun bukan karena cinta itu sendiri yang membuat semuanya rumit, melainkan manusianyalah yang membuat cinta menjadi se-komplex alogaritma yang membuat kepala berkepul. Cinta yang baik itu sederhana. Memberi dengan sederhana. Mengasihi dengan sederhana. Juga membahagiakan dengan sederhana.

Malam ini terjadi banyak konversasi antara saya dan beberapa teman. Entah seorang teman yang membuat sebuah pengakuan tentang masa lalunya pada saya—ia yang bercerita seakan mencari reasuransi dari mulut saya. Entah seorang sahabat yang bercerita perihal seorang lelaki melankoli yang namanya selalu saya rapalkan pelan dalam doa dan mimpi. Atau, entah seorang kawan yang bercerita perihal monster terkelam dalam dirinya.

Saya mengapresiasi cinta sebesar apa yang mereka miliki dengan sederhana. Tak butuh banyak pengakuan, namun cukup telak untuk diakui. Baru lima hari lamanya saya kembali menginjakkan kaki di Tanah Dewata, dan saya telah diberikan pelajaran-pelajaran sederhana tentang cinta yang baik. Dan ketiga orang tersebut mengajarkan saya bahwa cinta yang baik ialah yang menerima dengan sederhana.

Continue reading “Cinta yang Baik Itu Mendewasakan.”


Fulltime lover, you said.

Yet, when it comes to love talk, you cowardly turn your head away.

I remember one time we were sitting on your porch that night, you smoking on your cigarette and me sipping on my tea. It was peaceful, I remember. How the crickets accompanied our silent night while you kept on sighing a little too frequent just because you were stressing out about something. You never told me what it was bothering your mind. Maybe I’m not good as a keeper. Maybe I’m not trustworthy of a person. Maybe I’m not…

But you released those puffs of thin smoke into the air as if you let out your emotions all at once. You’re not a heavy smoker, I reckon. But when it comes to stuff you don’t want to share, you’d rather smoke those thoughts away. You thought it was easier than to tell people about those stuff.

Continue reading “Gnossienne.”