to be lost

She never had a choice
So, she decided to pace out of the path and create options
And it came out to be like this

About who and where
About losing her own self on who she was once
About losing her own self on who she wanted to be that now she is here
About failing and still got nowhere to place the blame
About having so much time wasted

And, this might be a secret
That after all this time she still quietly thought about it at night before the sleep
About this idea of what ifs and if onlys

"If only people were born opting"
"What if I was born on another family?"


She kept laughing
They kept falling

"Why on earth do people have to hurt each other? What makes people so capable of betraying one and another, that much?"

She felt it all perplexing
Still they kept falling

She prayed
That old prayers
About names that she thought God must be tired of hearing them

But there came another morning
Another walks to the quay
That she planned on sailing her boat away

Far away, that she hoped she wouldnt have to come back
That she hoped to be lost.


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.



I hate temporary feelings.

Its like I swear I would have hated one in my entire life just few seconds ago and now I awkwardly am crying like a baby elephant knowing the idea that things are not supposed to be this way, that way. I loathe me for being such a fainthearted living thing for the allowance of anxiety to suffocate me. Most of the goddamned time.

I curse me, for being the weak, in a never-ending game that we both started.


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. 


A little hi?

SO my blogs life has been a whole lot of abandonment. You know, I feel like the more I'm getting older its getting difficult not to waste time. Frankly, I feel this bit disappointment to myself since I realized that my ability to write doesnt improve at all. It even goes the other way. 

But, still, I can't believe I am now a college student. 

Approximately 3 years ago, I probably was sitting in a total different room as now I am. I was still that soc-med kid who passionately wrote everything I thought was cool, and some people considered it cool which is something that I still can't comprehend. I might be that geek who was too young and stupid yet not-so-cool for a high school's life. I daydreamed often but I knew I created words. And, to me, words could bring back so much things I almost forgot to remember. And, tbh, I miss the old not-so-cool kid. When her brain could still produce words, when her brain could wander far, though her mouth kept it quiet.  

Back at my early life in this twisty town, I knew I would have hated this town so much since everything came too fast and it went faster. For a 15 yo chick, nobody could seem to understand how I astonishingly survived. I felt it emotional to notice that I might have opted the worst decision ever for ever being so excited to escape. The fact was I wasn't even rescued. 

I mocked, I loathed this town for being a bitch to me due to how the people in my high school worked things. Everything was new and I needed more oxygen since I felt like suffocated.  

And at one midnight I sort of was knocked out, like I just realized I missed something. I knew I escaped. I escaped from those shits breezing through my ears every single day, I thought things would have been better with a new ambiance and new folks. I thought it was a brilliant idea to be all alone in a town where nobody would ever know me. But no shits want to be left abandoned, shits should be solved. And, escaping was never a solution. 

Despite all the nights filled with self-disappointments, day by day I learned things slowly. And, I thought I survived.
My high schools life might feel so much like a pain in the ass but as now I enter college's life, I wish I could pay for getting a short time-trip to the past, cherishing every good times where the laughter filled every corners of the old shady building I used to go to everyday.  

I wish I could travel back to those cold mornings where the hopes of a better day spelled out of my mouth, where a bizarre smile curved.

She's known sadness, and it has made her kind. - Nathan Filer


A Nightmare.

I felt betrayed. But as I ran down the stairs and found out that you were there, running - curving a smile? Somehow, I felt contented. Like you were my savior, like you were the one I had been secretly waiting for decades and that then you were right there. 

Your hands lingered around my tummy, they probably missed the place they used to be, since it had been decades. But as I was about to embrace the serenity I had been suffering from a loss, for decades, I could feel your soul pushing me aside. A rejected hug, what could be worse, sweetheart?  
You took me into a place that seemed so much unfamiliar to me, you said it was our favorite one. But as I looked around, I felt strange. Like the one I had been waiting for decades, was the whole different person as the one who passionately pushed me into his quite peculiar embrace. 
Now, what? 
Still, I seemed to feel contented.  
Even when he vaguely left with a goodbye kiss on my forehead.

And in a riot of vagueness, he said it was only a see-you-later kiss.  
Since he could only catch me up when I closed my eyes, when I fell asleep into longing for his apparition.  
Since we both moved on.