but it still works

We've been recycling "us" for a long period of time. 
Its worn out. 
But it still works.


everything happens for a reason

Everything happens for a reason.

So, that day when we crossed path and threw a curve of smile into each other, somehow I felt like there must be at least a reason God had saved for us. Even though it remained there for the next several days and nothing seemed to arrive, until the years passed by and my brain had completely erased that one little part I once believed that it didn't happen just like that; that there must be something more.

And, after years, we crossed path again. 
But my lips nerve didn't innervate its musculus to curve up back then. Instead I told you that theres this electricity flowing through my veins, up to my brain until it jolt and there they scattered; some pictures of vagueness. Familiar things. Deja vu.

It was only another accidental encounter, and a small conversation.
Nothing ever really happened.

Even when the wind breezed out another year. 
Another paths crossing.
Another 'nothing ever really happened'

But later I figured out things. They were perplexing, and I almost lost grip of my own sanity. But I still believed into those words; everything happens for a reason. 



Its easier to fall in love when the sun sets down.

Cliche, way too cheesy for someone who had just proved herself wrong.

She could feel the ocean breeze swiping off her back, carrying strands of her untied hair to her face, but she seemed not to care. Be free, her mind quietly said.
Everything was orange before it turned to dark, it felt like the dusk was doing its magical duty before its asked to be gone again. So, she took her time; admiring the beauty she had been beholding for the past 3 days without any sign of blase.
But, no, she could tell.
She could tell that it was not really the dusk. That it was not the tranquility the ocean breeze brought to.
It was him, she could tell. It was not even a silhouette. It was him.

And she thought he should stop looking at her that way, because every time he did, she felt like drowning. More like being suffocated by the future that would never have a time for them.
But he kept looking at her, that way. And she could tell that his dark eyes were too dreamy for such gaze that she knew she would never see it again after they're done there.

"Do you believe in coincidence?"

I never believed it until these past three days.

"Once, i think."

"It feels like you happen to be my favorite coincidence."

Now I wish theres no such word as coincidence. 

She smiled in an utter bitterness. How did we get here? was a question that kept emerging out in her mind and would be forever unsaid, forever unanswered.


to north

I head to north, until the bones crack out of the cold breeze. In a vagueness I hear the faint of strings plucked into some serene tunes. And, the fire, now I apprehend.
As I draw near, I can feel some parts of my body goes numb. See, it always happens to be something that is hard to elucidate.

The crowds. Precisely the same people about years ago.
And I'm starting to draw the lines of laughter upon them as if the longing has all been paid off.
But my eyes, they keep wandering through the crowds. Running, they're going after a piece of the old times. A piece of bliss, merged into something bitter.
And, its right there.
The cold breeze swipes off as my whole body goes limp. Spacing out, I'm losing my grip.

"Hows life?"

Its always a funny thing knowing how puny and devastated I am due to such lines. 


the word lucky

Having or bringing good fortune; Occuring by chance. 

I'm not saying that the things that I have achieved, the things I am now living with they are all merely springing from the struggles that I have passed through. Somehow I feel like sometimes the existence of another 'thing' is way too evident, that I almost see it with my both eyes.
Lucky, its just a word. And it admittedly is the word I never forget to put into my prayer since this odd world slaps me with a proof that sometimes struggling is just not enough. 
And, through the depressed nights that we quietly burst out in tears knowing that our shoulders probably could no longer sustain, in which the word lucky I buried it deep and deeper just because everything turned into the word we were all scared in the very beginning; bullshit. 

To your huge astonishment, I still felt lucky in that very time I looked like a walking dead trying to climb over the skyscraper. Like things such as sadness, bitterness, depressed feelings, they are simply another queer ways to remind us that we are all lucky enough not to feel unlucky. That the word unlucky is just a word that has been abandoned by the meaning itself, because I figure out that whenever I feel unlucky its just a sheer road that will eventually lead me to some places where I might taste a bliss. Or, at least, I tell myself that way.

For me, the definition of lucky is that simple; the fact that I am having him around now. And, I do not care who's having him back then. I do not care how people look at me as if I am that less fortunate who's attempting to repair a broken toy. All that I saw from the moment I decided to let him come into my little wrecked life was that he's not that broken, and I would not be wasting my time repairing anything, because he's the one who did. He occured to me just like that; like I breathed the luckiness in every particle of the oxygen. 
Though lately its been a hard time finding out any other way to fix things, (to those who ever put bunch of hesitations, go look) we stay still. 

We stay still, and nothing else matters.


a past reminder

Isn't it weird that some places are meant to be a past reminder, that whenever you step onto the mossy pavements, you'd see the moments as if they emerge vaguely out of nowhere, and the worst is that they're getting sharper in every another steps?

This afternoon, while I was driving around with a friend, we passed an old building which used to be the place we went to everyday for 3 years long. And, we casually decided to come over. 

a n d  i t  h u r t .

I had no idea which pieces of my part that seemed to feel something that was just like a sting; it knocked me out. More like slapping. It was so much pain yet it felt as good as when the moments lived. 
And, yes, it felt good. Just because they ever lived. Just because the laughter in the hallway that I passed through was real. Just because the wounds that ever cracked so many people there were true. 

I looked around; my soul probably had starved over such atmosphere. Then I began to realize that there were to much things in just one place. They came altogether in that very moment; consuming my thoughts.

Consuming me.


and, i taste the ink

"I can turn to that day as though it were a page in a book. Its written so deeply upon my mind I can almost taste the ink."
I think I remember.
Somewhere on earth, in the midst of weeds and wild yellow colored flowers, I swallowed the evidences that I could no longer manage my both hands. The fingers ran through the sweat of the sun, the olfactory nosed it out good, the east monsoon breezed through bestowing a temporary chillness, yet still the heart couldn't seem to be cooperative with the mind.
I could hear my mind screamed out loud cursing my irrational heart. But, somehow, that wrecked little heart was meant to win.
I think I remember.
When the sun went down, while the lights went on, and the music got louder it hurt my ears; those sort of things moved in a slow motion, everyone turned obscure, and the world muted. For both of us, for the time that was never enough. Maybe, just maybe, right that time we had opted to secretly adore each other in a way people would never notice. In a way we thought the best, to let things come and go, for us to never touch each others track.  
I think I remember. 
Once upon a cold morning, we saw impossibility in the most irritating way it ever came in a quietness.