Mengunci Ingatan.

Biarkan aku terjaga di sisi kanan tempat tidurku setelah kamu meninggalkan sejejak bagian dari dirimu di sisi kiri tempat tidurku. Karena ketika yang tersisa hanya harum keringatmu, aku tetap merasa utuh bahkan di saat terendahku. Aku sudah melupakan rasanya, namun hadirmu kembali membuat seisi otak menarik lagi memori-memori lampau untuk sekedarnya bernostalgia. Because even when all that’s left is your scent, I think I can keep myself a little sane.

Setelah beberapa tahun berpisah, aku rasa aku telah berhasil membangun kembali rasa yang telah hancur bersama perginya kamu dulu. Setelah hari itu, aku berhasil membangun kembali sebagian besar dari diriku yang masih tersisa. Kamu hilang. Kamu tenggelam. Nihil. Tidak berbekas.

Kamu bilang semua akan baik-baik saja. Kamu bilang kita akan terus begini selamanya. Kamu bilang tidak akan ada yang berubah bahkan setelah kamu pergi dan aku tetap tinggal sekalipun. Namun kamu tahu apa? Yang pergi akan selalu menghilang pada akhirnya dan itu pula yang terjadi padamu. Dan kala aku masih remuk, aku memutuskan untuk lupa sepenuhnya.

Caraku sederhana, aku kembali melanjutkan misi pelarianku setelah kamu. Kamu ingat kan cerita lamaku sebelum kamu? Tentang bagaimana aku melarikan diri dari seseorang yang sebelum kamu hanya untuk pada akhirnya menemukan kamu? Nah, setelah kamu, aku kembali melarikan diri. Dan kali ini dari kamu.

Untuk sesaat aku merasa berhasil. Pergi ke tempat yang lebih jauh adalah pilihan termudah untuk diputuskan saat itu. Sebagai perempuan impulsif yang selama ini kamu kenal, melarikan diri memanglah caraku untuk bertahan tetap waras. Dari kamu, dari kenyataan hidup, dari semua hal yang membuat seisi kepalaku gonjang-ganjing. Namun sialnya, bahkan setelah hari itu berlalu, aku masih kerap memimpikan kamu kembali.

Lucunya, mimpi itu menjadi nyata.

Rumpang.

 

Ada mata yang menatapku lelah di seberang sana–mata yang selalu menaruh harap walau mengerti betul bahwa apa yang diharap tak akan kunjung datang. Dengan sembab disekelilingnya, terlihat jelas bahwa si pemilik mata itu terlelap dalam tangisnya, meninggalkan sisa-sisa kesedihan di sekitar mata lelah itu. Aku tersenyum ke arahnya, menyemangati dalam diam. Aku kembali memulas pipiku sekali lagi sebelum akhirnya aku meninggalkan sosok itu di balik cermin. Dengan tas serta sebuket bunga yang telah kubawa, aku pergi.

Denpasar masih nampak cerah hari itu. Seperti hari-hari sebelumnya, Denpasar masih terus menunjukkan hiruk pikuknya di pagi hari. Setelah kupikir-pikir, empat setengah tahun yang kuhabiskan di tanah ini bukanlah waktu yang singkat. Setelah melewati hari-hari adaptasi penuh perjuangan beberapa tahun silam, sedikit demi sedikit raga dan sukma ini telah menyatu dengan tanah ini. Banyak cerita yang kutulis mengenai banyak jiwa yang kutemui di tanah ini. Mereka yang datang dan pergi meninggalkan jejak berupa memori, masih kuingat betul satu per satu ceritanya.

Begitu juga dirinya yang sudah beberapa tahun belakangan selalu kuusahakan, masih terus meninggalkan jejak-jejak kenangan.

There Is A Universe.

There is a universe in which we work out together. It is not this universe we live in right now obviously, but there is one out there. There has to be. And in that universe, we’d both choose each other.

I would like to think you’d choose differently in that universe. And instead of giving chance to love her, you’d give chance to love me. I’d like to think that we like to cuddle and whisper one another sweet nothings on cold rainy days like this. That you are not afraid of kissing my lips when it’s crowded. That I let myself express whatever the hell I have in mind cause you’d still be there anyway and not leaving.

I would like to think of all the good things happening between you and me. And not just the kind of regular talk you and I usually have on normal days like this, I’d like to think that you’d tell me deeper things I have not known yet about you in that universe. I’d like to think that the you in that universe, would tell me your dreams when you were eight, what you’ve always wanted to be, how you see life as a child, how much you love your siblings—stuff that only to your lover you’d tell. I’d like to think that I’d be that for you. And of course, you’d let me in each time I knock on the door.

Quarter Life Crisis.

“When are you going to get married?”
“Do you already have a potential candidate for your future partner?”
“Wow you’re 24 and you haven’t finished your bachelor degree?”
“When are you going to stop fooling around and start your life? You’re already 27 and you need to make money for real.”
“You’ve graduated six months ago and you haven’t got yourself any job for real?”
“Why are you so stupid when it comes to talking to a girl? You’re an adult, you’re supposed to know it.”
“Get married first before you pursue your master degree. You’re a woman, men will be scared of you.”
“Everyone your age is already married and have children. Aren’t you jealous of them?”
“You’re three years away from the big 3, when are you going to settle down?”

Ever heard any of the things above from the mouth of people around you? If so, congratulation for your millennials problem of quarter life crisis. You must be a young adult/adult who struggles for being forced to figure out your life all at once by the society around you. You must be one soul who wishes to vanished because of the thoughts filling your head cannot be muted as simple as muting out a radio. You must be one hell of a personality who’s struggling this society’s concept of success.

But that’s alright, everyone feels it too.

Unreturned.

♪ If I loved you, life would be easy
There’d be no truth that I’d be scared of
I could walk through every valley
And you’d light me with all of your love ♫

By the time I woke up, she was already standing there by the kitchen counter, looking busy with what I bet is her breakfast preparation. Still with her sheer pj’s top and short shorts, she will be busy every morning to prepare breakfast for everyone. I watched her back as she flipped her pancake on the pan for a moment, before then dragging myself to the sink to get myself a glass of water. She always has this serious look when she’s cooking, and I guess it’s just her thing to wake up earlier every morning to prepare the breakfast for everyone in the flat.

“Whoops, I didn’t see you there. You’ve woken up already?” she smiled as I nodded quickly. “How was the meeting with your friends last night?”

I shrugged. “It was okay, I guess.”

She sighed sounding like giving up to make up a morning conversation that always goes like this. She put down a plate full of pancakes on the dining table, grabbing some maple syrup and plates from the counter. “Don’t worry, the semester is almost ending, you can catch up with them later this new year holiday. Come on now, I’ve prepared some breakfast for you, too.”

Exhausting Like That.

Feeling sad is exhausting like that.

It’s waking up in the morning, seeing that ray of hope from the sunlight that comes through your curtain yet feeling like you don’t have a reason to hold on to another day. It’s getting up from the bed, feeling so heavy like you carry so much on your shoulders. It’s looking up the mirror, hating someone in front of you with passion just because they look exactly just like someone that you want to kill—your own self.

It’s going to class after class, meeting friends after friends, throwing a smile after smile you never meant to give from heart, seeing all the people doing what they do and leaving you far behind, witnessing the birds chirping in another so-called beautiful day knowing that it’s only slowly passing you by with its life. It’s having a lunch meal you don’t feel like having, knowing that if you really don’t, you’ll throw up sick.