Ayo Menulis, Dez!

You know what, so quiet today. You didn't call nor answer, you didn't text nor reply, you didn't tweet nor DM-ing. You didn't even whisper to me… What's wrong ? :@ I was hysterically panicked. I walked alone across those streets. :~ Swinging… Singing… losing control of self consciousness, holding the resentment of absurd clarity of your exist nihilism, beating the restless of stupidity and thought of you, or drawing the confusion of water falling from my pitiful eyes, yet those were I was doing. Laugh at me, it was so fucking hilarious . :r Darn…! You haven't come to me in form yet. But you're always here. You're a ghost. You're a ghost of my imagination. You're my lover . You're my heroin. You're damn ghost. You're you. And I love you. Still you're ghost. Yeah I, myself had made you ghost. But Honey, though it's so silent today I felt you'd followed me. You followed me into the class, you followed me walking across thos...

Pagi yang basah di bulan Oktober penuh hujan ini saya melamun dengan wajah ditekuk dan murung dalam sebuah angkot menunggu macet dan mensublimasi asap-asap kendaraan bermotor yang congkak itu. Dalam lamunan seperti biasa, I wonder . I'm wondering about my existence. I do always. Saya selalu bertanya tentang eksistensi saya, keberadaan saya di "sini" tujuan saya hidup. Untuk apa sebenarnya? Apa yang saya kejar, atau apa yang mengejar saya, hingga saya harus berlari. Dalam keadaan skeptic yang bengong itu saya terus mencari, atau menunggu jawaban apa untuk pertanyaan-pertanyaan dari pikiran saya yang sangat semrawut. Saya melihat dari jendela angkot keadaan di sekeliling saya. Banyak tukang ojeg, berebut penumpang ingin mendulang keuntungan di tengah macet. Ada juga penjaga lintasan rel kereta api yang tanpa palang pintu otomatis di salah satu sudut kota ini. Para pengamen cilik yang sudah bekerja di pagi buta, pemuda tukang sampah yang mendorong gerobak sampah nan bau ...

I suppose all of us (well, if it's just me) at some point or another will experience this stingy sour bitter feeling. The feeling of being rejected. Sometimes it cuts deeper than others. Sometimes it breaks your heart and makes you give up. It doesn't matter how long it's been or how much you want it. Nothing changes anything actually, if you realize. And if it won't be back … Masking, resentment, disappointment… And… Confusion. (Sep 30 2010, while I was rejected to another job I applied, because of physical appearance and of my veil)

I have something I really want to write about and yet it's been a long time. Finding the words, constructing them, finding my heart, making it up, finding my breath and healing it. I don't know why I'm so slow to blog these days! I get a lot of drafts or sketches on my paper while I was in sober living my day but they're just fallen by the way side. I forget where I put or even throw them all away. When I'm here, rite in front of my beloved loyal PC, I dunno what I'm going to write. Slow and lame like a turtle ya??