Pitiful Clover

Bandung, 28 October 2011

It was ten months ago that I had basically challenged Hani to a relationship, and I could honestly say I had not regretted a moment.

I smiled at the thought, shifting beneath the blankets, but carefully. I loved this time of the morning, when Hani was peaceful and lax: calm in the way only a warrior could be once battle was done, and I was not about to disturb it for the world. I was the kind of girl who used to lie in until duty or decorum insisted I opened my eyes and faced the world. Hani didn't ask for anything different, but he inspired me to face the early morning sunlight, if only for the reward that awaited.

Perhaps it was shallow, but I had always paid more attention to physical appearance than the person captured within their shell of skin and bone, at least at first. Maybe that's why my previous relationships failed. I had never taken the time to know the soul within.

Hani was another matter. Most people looked at him and saw a broken child who had become a man the world should respect: sharply intelligent and perfectly trained to use both his body and his mind as a weapon, but I knew better. Hani was much more than that, like a mountain hiding precious ore at his heart, there was deep compassion and lasting loyalty, all married together with the kind of mind that made sure such attributes were carefully applied. He did not give his friendship easily, but once it was earned, it was almost impossible to lose. The world could be against you, and Hani would still be standing at your side, calling everyone out on their bullshit. That’s what made an understandable itself within Luthfi, Della and Bunga.

Still, as much as I admired and loved the person Hani was inside, the body that surrounded all that still caught my attention.

I moved his hand, tucking a stray tendril of messy hair behind. It was loose from our fun the night before, and I would probably bitch about having a difficulties with my ass especially for sit, but I loved the message it sent the world. Not one of ownership or possession, but something of life and intensity.

Hani's past was full of good intentions and the heartfelt tragedies that often followed. Sometimes, I had sat on next to him, watching Hani shake and bleed, rage and curse, and wondered how anyone could survive it. Yet all that had turned him into this: perfection at my side. After all the hardship, Hani had emerged growing into himself and reaching his full potential. He had not unfurled like a flower, but matured, like an oak that would withstand centuries: there was nothing temporary or transient about Cubung Hanito, and after the switching vagaries of so many others in his bed, I could only marvel at Hani's constancy.

As if to reassure myself that all this was not a dream, I moved his fingers lightly down Hani's wrist, feeling the scratch of the past scars, before trailing onwards to his throat. A steady beat throbbed against my fingertips, and I lingered there for a moment before tracing the curve of Hani's shoulder. It was a reminder of the simple fact that some parts of Hani, both his body and mind, were about struggle and frustration of relief : immovable. It amazed me, sometimes, how the most mundane parts of Hani's body could make my stomach curl in pleasure and my heart pause in thanks. It’s the same faith, the same invitation to end this silly life—but yet we both survived and met, and fallen in love. With other lovers, I appreciated the obvious and no more. Yet here I was, completely the same pattern with Hani all this time.

A deeper breath swelled the cage harbouring Hani's life. His existence was a bird, trapped behind bars of bone, yet I knew how loud it sang. I only had to see Hani's smile, awkward and strange, rare still, but more common than mine.

Looking up, I quickly checked Hani's face, searching for any signs of wakefulness. Dark lashes still hid those eyes from sight, and his expression was tranquil and serene. His stomach was a hard, strong plane, twitching at my touch. I skirted lightly around Hani's morning erection, promising myself I would have his taste of that later, when Hani was fully awake to enjoy it. Instead I moved around, stroking my hand over the curve of Hani's backside and down his thighs.

All the other things I had termed as “love” paled in comparison to what Hani inspired in me. Sometimes it was almost impossible to breathe around the swell of my heart. In the right frame of mind, my dependence on another was almost embarrassing, but still I knew I would not trade it for anything in the world. Independence was a lonely road to walk, and in Hani, I had found understanding. In Hani, I had found someone who knew that partnership meant two people working together, rather than one consuming the life of another.

'Jam berapa ini'

The words scattered my thoughts, and I lifted my head to see a thin line beneath Hani's lashes. That voice was husky from sleep, the kind that made “Good morning” sound like an invitation to bed, and an appreciative smile curled my lips.

'Hani, pahamu berat' I murmured, nudging at Hani's nose with my own and pressing a soft kiss to the bow of Hani's mouth as Hani allowed my hand to continue its adoring exploration, relishing Hani's soft hum of waking pleasure. 'Telat bangunnya, sejam lalu aku pake tanganmu buat ‘cumming’'

Hani snorted, and there was a hint of a growl behind that laugh. 'Kok ga bangunin sih!'

Hani pinched my backside, making another, more dangerous snarl rumble forward. 'Beauty's in the eye of the beholder,' I reminded in a murmur. ‘Jangan kesorean, jalanan padet, kalo munyer-munyer di kasur aja ga bakal bisa ke Maribaya' And he rolled on top of me, pinning me effectively to the bed and nipping at my pulse.

'Mandi?'

'Iya.'

Bandung, 28 October 2011

It was ten months ago that I had basically challenged Hani to a relationship, and I could honestly say I had not regretted a moment.

I smiled at the thought, shifting beneath the blankets, but carefully. I loved this time of the morning, when Hani was peaceful and lax: calm in the way only a warrior could be once battle was done, and I was not about to disturb it for the world. I was the kind of girl who used to lie in until duty or decorum insisted I opened my eyes and faced the world. Hani didn't ask for anything different, but he inspired me to face the early morning sunlight, if only for the reward that awaited.

Perhaps it was shallow, but I had always paid more attention to physical appearance than the person captured within their shell of skin and bone, at least at first. Maybe that's why my previous relationships failed. I had never taken the time to know the soul within.

Hani was another matter. Most people looked at him and saw a broken child who had become a man the world should respect: sharply intelligent and perfectly trained to use both his body and his mind as a weapon, but I knew better. Hani was much more than that, like a mountain hiding precious ore at his heart, there was deep compassion and lasting loyalty, all married together with the kind of mind that made sure such attributes were carefully applied. He did not give his friendship easily, but once it was earned, it was almost impossible to lose. The world could be against you, and Hani would still be standing at your side, calling everyone out on their bullshit. That’s what made an understandable itself within Luthfi, Della and Bunga.

Still, as much as I admired and loved the person Hani was inside, the body that surrounded all that still caught my attention.

I moved his hand, tucking a stray tendril of messy hair behind. It was loose from our fun the night before, and I would probably bitch about having a difficulties with my ass especially for sit, but I loved the message it sent the world. Not one of ownership or possession, but something of life and intensity.

Hani's past was full of good intentions and the heartfelt tragedies that often followed. Sometimes, I had sat on next to him, watching Hani shake and bleed, rage and curse, and wondered how anyone could survive it. Yet all that had turned him into this: perfection at my side. After all the hardship, Hani had emerged growing into himself and reaching his full potential. He had not unfurled like a flower, but matured, like an oak that would withstand centuries: there was nothing temporary or transient about Cubung Hanito, and after the switching vagaries of so many others in his bed, I could only marvel at Hani's constancy.

As if to reassure myself that all this was not a dream, I moved his fingers lightly down Hani's wrist, feeling the scratch of the past scars, before trailing onwards to his throat. A steady beat throbbed against my fingertips, and I lingered there for a moment before tracing the curve of Hani's shoulder. It was a reminder of the simple fact that some parts of Hani, both his body and mind, were about struggle and frustration of relief : immovable. It amazed me, sometimes, how the most mundane parts of Hani's body could make my stomach curl in pleasure and my heart pause in thanks. It’s the same faith, the same invitation to end this silly life—but yet we both survived and met, and fallen in love. With other lovers, I appreciated the obvious and no more. Yet here I was, completely the same pattern with Hani all this time.

A deeper breath swelled the cage harbouring Hani's life. His existence was a bird, trapped behind bars of bone, yet I knew how loud it sang. I only had to see Hani's smile, awkward and strange, rare still, but more common than mine.

Looking up, I quickly checked Hani's face, searching for any signs of wakefulness. Dark lashes still hid those eyes from sight, and his expression was tranquil and serene. His stomach was a hard, strong plane, twitching at my touch. I skirted lightly around Hani's morning erection, promising myself I would have his taste of that later, when Hani was fully awake to enjoy it. Instead I moved around, stroking my hand over the curve of Hani's backside and down his thighs.

All the other things I had termed as “love” paled in comparison to what Hani inspired in him. Sometimes it was almost impossible to breathe around the swell of my heart. In the right frame of mind, my dependence on another was almost embarrassing, but still I knew I would not trade it for anything in the world. Independence was a lonely road to walk, and in Hani, I had found understanding. In Hani, I had found someone who knew that partnership meant two people working together, rather than one consuming the life of another.

'Jam berapa ini'

The words scattered my thoughts, and I lifted my head to see a thin line beneath Hani's lashes. That voice was husky from sleep, the kind that made “Good morning” sound like an invitation to bed, and an appreciative smile curled my lips.

'Hani, pahamu berat' I murmured, nudging at Hani's nose with my own and pressing a soft kiss to the bow of Hani's mouth as Hani allowed my hand to continue its adoring exploration, relishing Hani's soft hum of waking pleasure. 'Telat bangunnya, sejam lalu aku pake tanganmu buat ‘cumming’'

Hani snorted, and there was a hint of a growl behind that laugh. 'Kok ga bangunin sih!'

Hani pinched my backside, making another, more dangerous snarl rumble forward. 'Beauty's in the eye of the beholder,' I reminded in a murmur. ‘Jangan kesorean, jalanan padet, kalo munyer-munyer di kasur aja ga bakal bisa ke Maribaya' And he rolled on top of me, pinning me effectively to the bed and nipping at my pulse.

'Mandi?'

'Iya.'

Nan, what in the world are you doing?
You're making everyone worry about you.
What are you doing?
What are you thinking?
Are you happy to make me frustrate?
Why did you angry to me?
Why did you say something awful to me?
Why didn't you realize that you hurt me?
I'm so tired.
I hate you.

=====

I hate myself
I was so ashamed of myself.
I thought so all along.
I couldn't help thinking that way.

The scariest thing,
The most painful thing is...
to be hated by someone you trully love.

I am a coward.
But yet, I'm still telling myself I love you.
I'm the worst lover after all.
Why am I such a child.
I really hate it.
I should've protected you.
I should've protected us.


----------------------------------------------------------------------------
I wish you read this when there's just small sad memory left. It's just a writing, but there's a heart within each words of it. I wish I could heal you up, so I could heal myself too. So I could forgive myself. Someday, it will make me stronger. And someday, eventually, this would be distant, dim sadness.

I wish you read this when the painful of thinking of me has finally felt dim. Because I'm too coward to say this straightly.

I'm sorry...


Keep spirit for the exam! I'm sure you will successfully pass it.

Bersih-bersih kompi kantor hari ini menghasilkan satu temuan yang bikin ngakak pas baca (karena bahasa Inggris gw masih super sloppy slut), tapi ada ilmu yang bisa diambil dari sana. That was my agenda while I had a disaster touring + seminar demi sebuah penyembuhan konservatif yang ujung-ujungnya ga ada artinya juga. Well, at least I enjoy the reassuring part, plus nyambi jalan-jalan di Sanur. Sisanya... silakan buat bahan ketawaan aja dah.

****

I never expected that my participation in world bipolar seminar was leaving alot of stories. It was an ass when dr Lidya told me to come with those things. I wasn't the experiment mouse of your mother, I said blatantly. Glad that she didn't angry with my lame excuse, but still I couldn't resist when Prof Rowena herself asked me. I was weak with a-grandmother-like she was possessed.

I read the topic of the pamphlet "Preventing Suicide and Bipolar Disorder Throughout Lifetime – Adolescent Bipolar Disorder Psychotherapy”. Instantly I knew I would find a lot of gooey things there.


****

Rama Hotel, Bali.
Day 1.

Mostly Bipolar Disorder was a dead case in this first topic. Prof Wena looked dismissive with the thought. And it was like a cold-hell to me that I should spared my experience for public discuss as a “living-proof dead case Bipolar Disorder”. I never had enough satisfaction with my spoken English, God knows that I was never good in pronouns. And I should talked there by English, answering every question they’ve raised. (I should’ve known this was never be a good idea).

The questions were long, (and bored), as professional doctors and psychotherapies, they should’ve known this things. But then I hold myself to told it loud in front of the microphone. Instead, I answered whole of it as sincere as I could. The mission I had was helping… so there wouldn’t be “another me” to do stupid things.
The first question :
1. Why did you attempt to suicide ?
Because I knew I would’ve been saved.
(Then more and more question raised. As medically answer, Prof Wena helping me to counter the question. But most of it I answered it by myself!!)
2. So you did it to get attention from another? How could you sure there were people to safe you?
I thought it much more and longer than your whole questions, but most fact I knew… the most frightened person with my death was… myself.

And the more question raised, I couldn’t remember all, but I knew I did my best for the mission. Was my helping enough….?

****

Rama Hotel, Bali
Day 2

Prof Wena told me that there were 2 kinds of people in Bipolar world. The ones that induces to hurt another, and the ones that rather hurting theirself. My case was the example of the hurting-ownself group of people. They have characteristics that they usually smart and having high IQ rate. So that’s why I would attend an IQ test today…

The result was I got IQ rate 134
Should I glad that I was a crazy-genius bipolar?

When the seminar talked about silly-sloppy-medical-whatever things, I chose to spent time walked alone to Sanur.

They said they were doctors, but in my eyes, they seemed like bunch of idiots. How could they miss the most important link which become the trigger of this disease? Human is a social creature… and that disease isn’t come by itself.

****

Done. Mampus kan gw ngakak. Dulu gw ga pernah bisa nulis, dan ga pernah bisa menuangkan apapun di dalam pikiran dalam bentuk tulisan ajeg tanpa bikin perut mules ngakak duluan. Alhasil, banyak kegiatan dan hal-hal bermanfaat yang lewat tanpa tercatat dan hilang seiring jalannya waktu. But yeah, time changed, walau gw bilang sekarang pun tulisan gw kayak tai ayam, at least tai ayam yang sekarang agak berbentuk, ga berantakan kek dulu.

It’s stupid to write this HERE since it used to be our place to have blasts, but then I don’t think I could post it in my tumblr. Dinda’s there, and it’s not safe at all. I don’t want to raise her worries.

I call it : ANXIETY.

One for you to understand this, because these were what I really felt :

Anxiety defines as a future-oriented mood state in which one is ready or prepared to attempt to cope with upcoming negative events suggesting that it is a distinction between future vs. present dangers which divides anxiety and fear.

Physical effects : include heart palpitations, muscle weakness and tension, fatigue, nausea, chest pain, shortness of breath, stomach aches, or headaches. The body prepares to deal with a threat: blood pressure and heart rate are increased, sweating is increased, blood flow to the major muscle groups is increased, and immune and digestive system functions are inhibited (the fight or flight response). External signs of anxiety may include pale skin, sweating, trembling, and pupillary dilation

Emotional effects : feelings of apprehension or dread, trouble concentrating, feeling tense or jumpy, anticipating the worst, irritability, restlessness, watching (and waiting) for signs (and occurrences) of danger, and, feeling like your mind's gone blank"as well as "nightmares/bad dreams, obsessions about sensations, deja vu, a trapped in your mind feeling, and feeling like everything is scary

Cognitive effects : thoughts about suspected dangers, such as fear of dying. You feel an intense fear when you think of dying, or you may think of it more often than normal, or can’t get it out of your mind.

Anxiety - Wikipedia

First, it’s a common sense that when you feel danger, you’ll take anything serious, even a joke. And saying “don’t worry” is never worked on this phase. Everything I did based on my primordial instinct to secure my living, include my happiness. Once a bug, a tiny, slighty, slutty bug that never concerned me so much come to ruin my mood, I could swing a cupboard to kill it. Include, what I said “a mere bitch that tried her all might to get my boyfriend’s attention”. So, what happen these days really bug me, I mean, really disturbing my nerve and swaying nausea in the pit of my tummy. A girl, ordinary girl, never better, so pure and has jilbab on her head, has something growing so big between her already big boobs toward my boyfriend. MY BOYFRIEND. She really rang war horn.

I know, Hani will said “Don’t ever worry about this thing, its useless.” Include saying silently that ‘I’m a loyal, no one could distract me from your presence’ and he did, he did it in purpose to ease me. But it worked futile when I saw their picture in Hani’s FB, shocked, it really made my blood rushed in different pulmo. I hate to say that what I felt right there was a major defense on what I own. I know that a girlfriend or boyfriend remain a state, and we never completely own each other until the sacrament vow has made, but I just don’t want to lose him. Not now, not today, not even tomorrow—I don’t know the exact time I could let him go. I wish I never.

So that’s why, each second when I couldn’t call him, my head spun like merry go round. Some imaginary pictures of them having a good time in kitchen boiled my blood so well, some other thought was maybe Hani couldn’t reach me because he’s busy to look her. Oh shit. And I know, I’m too much over this, I collapsed my head straight to bed after the cold bath to ease my stammering.

And finally he picked the phone, and I rest in peace.

Finished with this, he made me sure that he wouldn’t ever feed his fans again—like I told him long time ago. Nothing I could do but trustly put my faith on him. I wish he could understand my feeling, and my condition. It’s not that he would betray me, but I never can stand with some lusty eyes tracked his good shape body while I’m here, faraway. I’m obsessive?? Oh God kill me.

Since when….

Oh forget it. I love him too much.

I dont know how to keep it safe without exploding myself. So this, maybe this scrappy thing will do more than an absent boyfriend, or absent cigarette since I decided to stop--willingly at last--consumed.

So this sickness called jealousity. It consumed every part of me faster than Hani's eating speed. I tried to calm myself and thought that it was some jokes, or misunderstanding, or some shitty bitch who doesnt know with whom she's dealing with. But I hate this. In this case, we agree that both of us are so productive to explode many vaginas and dicks, if we willingly want it. And then again, we know that we have a mutual-invisible-but-noticed-agreement that we soberly has something to fight for. We are child of hormone, of love and throne, of estrogen and testosterone. And sometimes, too much spice of it would boil more than what should be.

You said that I'm smart? No, I'm so dumb and useless. There's a hole of shit in my brain right now. And I cant carry it out before getting dirty. Now, even now, I know I have none idea of what I'm talking about. It's like pup, when you have a big disaster storm inside your tummy and you dont know where to explode it. Its not about the trust too, I mean goddamn I'm so confident I'm the only one in your heart, but nah, never confident that I'm the only one in your arms... look at those picture of yours facebook.

We never had this issues before. And now everything comes like bugs in Spring. Can you help me to understand this?


Sincerely yours

Makanya, dari awal gue udah bilang, capek-capek pasang billboard di jidat yang bunyinya: emang ada gitu orang yang tahan jadi pasangan gue lama-lama? Ya kagak lah. Statement ini bolak-balik gue ganti, dari yang gak mungkin, mungkin, sampe ‘tentu aja ada.’ Satu saat, gue merasa beruntung punya perempuan yang mau duduk di samping gue, cakep, baik, pinter, tapi di saat lain, gue cuman bisa mengerutkan alis dan nopang dagu, mikirin semua hal yang udah lewat. Konklusinya? Ya emang gue asshole, mau diapain juga tetep asshole.

Tapi, berhubung gue asshole kelas atas, gue mau cuap-cuap soal ke-asshole-an gue. Satu, bias sudut pandang. Dunia ini lo liat dalam kacamata first person, apa yang lo liat adalah apa yang lo alami, kan. Lo makan, maka apa yang lu kunyah, itulah yang kerasa di lidah—lalu reseptor ngirim sinyal ke otak untuk nginformasiin apa yang lagi ada di lidah. Simpelnya, apa yang ada di mulut orang lain, tentunya nggak akan bisa lo rasain, karena ya emang itu mulut orang. Ketika dua orang makan gue, apa pasti keduanya bakalan bilang manis? Siapa yang tau kalo salah satu diantara mereka berdua ada yang lagi demam tinggi hingga lidahnya mati rasa? Nggak tau kan?

Judging, itu salah satu bentuk kemanusiaan yang paling tribal, primitif. Gue bilang, biarkanlah apa yang ada di kepala seseorang tetap ada disana, kecuali, ada kesepakatan diantara dua belah pihak untuk diskusi, tebak-tebak personaliti atau mindfucking games, terserah. Tapi memberikan penilaian, tanpa ada bukti autentik konkrit, itu sama aja blunder, ya bagus kalo bener, ya kalo salah? Sebel nggak yang ditebak-tebak? Amen. Jesus.

Bias sudut pandang ini menghasilkan adanya penyimpangan sistem dalam sebuah hubungan, penyimpangan yang kebablasan, perversive perversity. Lo bayangin, yang namanya manusia aja udah kebanyakan simpangan, sekarang ditambah faktor hati, silahkan pangkat tiga. Jadi, jangan heran ketika dalam sebuah hubungan, kadang terdengar kata: “Kenapa sih, selalu aku yang minta maaf?” “Kamu nggak pernah mau ngerti!” see? Kalimat-kalimat itu udah bagai kacang merah di sop dagingnya dunia hubungan. Bias, mereka hanya melihat dirinya sendiri dalam memberikan penilaian, seberapa crack up, seberapa hancur, tapi mereka nggak melihat kondisi orang yang satunya, penilaian sepihak, tanpa informasi, dangkal. Sebgitunya, makanya disebut peversive perversity toh. Kelewat kebablasan.

Tebak-tebak buah manggis. Mata buta, ketutup sama badan mereka sendiri, wajar sih. Degradasi fisik, mental, daya pikir, ngebuat semuanya menjadi buram, semuanya menjadi kabur. Dan insting manusia yang paling dasar, bertahan hidup. On the verge of destruction, seseorang akan sewajarnya mempertahankan diri, membela diri, makanya, bias tadi lebih mungkin terjadi. Realita belakangan, yang penting sistem pertahanan diri udah lengkap, dan kalo sempet ya serangan balik. Nggak ada yang salah, insting, nature as a human being.

“Cuma gue doang yang sakit! Lo kagak! Gue yang paling sakit! Gue yang paling menderitaa!!!”

Screw and get bent. Gue udah membuang pikiran ini, dan gue nggak bohong, kalau mulut dan tangan ini masih gatel untuk ngetik atau berucap. Tapi gue tau, hasilnya nggak akan bagus. Perbandingan itu nggak akan pernah menghasilkan fitrah dalam sebuah hubungan, apapun bentuknya. Nggak ada orang yang suka dibandingin, apalagi sama orangtua atau pacar sendiri. Lebih baik gue berpikiran, oke, gue nggak dalam kondisi baik sekarang, misery, tapi men, gue nggak sendiri, toh dia juga. Nggak ada yang seneng, semua sama susah, dan gue bilang sama.. nggak ada yang ‘lebih’, dan nggak ada yang ‘kurang’. Lo ngerasa dia gak lebih menderita? Pikir lagi dua kali, ada kata ‘ngerasa’ disana, cuman perasaan, tebakan tanpa dasar tanpa logika. Valid? Buang ke kali.

Daaaaannnn

Ini paragraf paling keren yang pernah gue baca seumur idup.

Oh its hurt, if you need to know what I feels right now. You’re fucking win this game. You’re the most right man walking on earth . It wasn't your fault, baby it was me. Maybe our relationship isn't as crazy as it seems. Maybe that's what happens when a tornado meets a volcano. Maybe I’m nothing good for you, what I did always harm you. Next time, just make sure you killed me, and please walk away with it. I’d better let you end up my mysery.

Tepuk tangan. Gue selalu angkat topi sama yang namanya manusia, hebat, informasi yang minim bisa dijadikan paragaf padu. Makanya, acara gosip nggak ada di neraka, itu jatahnya manusia.

Nah nah.. it’s me, the greatest bastard walking on earth.

I’m not talking about psychology. It’s a science of blabbering and lots bull—no comprehensive rules about human and their behavior—and I’m sick of talking without proof. I definitely made a slow pace on anger, thought my circuit was short and I’m a jumpie, I would rather call myself calmer recently. Calm, doesn’t mean you have control over things. My calm means, I’m tired of struggling. You can imagine how waves build itself before it hits your boat, but you couldn’t calculate how your boat survive without knowing how high the tides. What I’m trying to talk here is, sometime we never know how big the problem, how much it risk. We saw it built itself, grow bigger and bigger, and when it decided to jump on us, that’s the time when we know that it’s not as small as we thought before.

I never wanted us to fight. And we’re not deciding what’s wrong and right. What meant so much right now that we set our grip tight. Where’s the hard part of this?

I decided to take the blame—like always did—and apologize for every bad things happen on us. I was so stupid and fool I never knew what’s good for you and what’s hurt you. But sometimes, let’s take the break and we fall in each other’s palm. You know I mean nothing bad on us, I never did. You know I’m right but you always find the spot to killed us. It’s not fair. The uncomfortable things that you feel is always become a steel knife you used to stab me, in chest and deep. You never know that I was sacrifice myself too, that I should cut through time, hold myself when I need you (and the point is I need you everyday, every time) My own egoism told me that I don’t want to lose you even in second, but my heart wouldn’t let me to do this cruel things. I know we have our own universe outside, that your world doesn’t just orbits on me-only around, and neither mine. I know you always want us to be together, but look dear, we’ll miss too much things, we’ll lose too much chance on what we should achieve. Please remember that you’ve lost your Ospek just to be with me, you want me to not talk about this anymore but doesn’t mean I forget those thing.

There’s people, outside. There’s places, outside. There’s chances, outside. And when you screw around with boredom and loneliness, eager to have so much conversation with living people, meet eyes with eyes, talk lips by lips, see the real emotion not just by symbolic emoticon, how could I choose my ego than this? My heart is raging by this. You don’t know how high the tides inside and I don’t need you to understand. We failed in this pattern. I put my sorry ass and decided that while you have your universe there, I would have my own too. We could still have a talk but make sure that it’s important, so neither of us will be distracted. I want you to gain much. Please tell me I didn’t care.

I care! I put you above all the desire I had. And there’s must be some uncomfortable while we’re away but I’m sure we’re strong enough.

I care.

And you used this careness to stab me, to turn the table and swap me. Just because you don’t like what I decided but keep doing this, you find the right time to punish me, the right moment to say “I told you so, Nan”. When I cracked the rules just to call you in short time, or message you, you have your chance to punish me because I break the rules. You get the chance to fling my words back to me and teach me hard with that. And if “I thought I’m ill and you should know” doesn’t fit as ‘important’ thing, I don’t know anymore what’s important for us to know. And you just quiet. You shut and nothing to talk. You don’t burden yourself to jusk ask “what illness I’ve got”.

You punish me. You’re fucking hate me.

Deep down inside, you know I’m not deserve this cold-hammer punch. But your ego’s too high to set this, and all you need to do is follow the rules, and who violate it needs to face the risk. What? I’m your enemy right now?

Oh its hurt, if you need to know what I feels right now. You’re fucking win this game. You’re the most right man walking on earth . It wasn't your fault, baby it was me. Maybe our relationship isn't as crazy as it seems. Maybe that's what happens when a tornado meets a volcano. Maybe I’m nothing good for you, what I did always harm you. Next time, just make sure you killed me, and please walk away with it. I’d better let you end up my mysery.

When I get the whole day off like this, I started to write nuts. Sorry readers, what’s the next best thing to do in holiday when you feel Mall’s suck? Drooling your bed?

I was a girl made of fables, social construction of value, when people started to differ man from woman, the next part will be feed their offspring with fables. The dolls and cars, the pink and blue, the short and skirt, and the most powerful—hegemony that man can do what woman can’t do—in love. It broke my heart deeply that I had to hold my feeling to several names in my elementary and junior high school because my friends told me that it’s not my roles to make confessions, or asked them to be my lover. I broke those idea and running for the senior-class boy named Iwan, and as what people told me so, it was so wreck. The way he looked in terrifying way, several gesture of disgust, the total change on how he acted while I was there, made me bet for everything I owned I wouldn’t say what my heart told me about. Better left alone, better left to not known. I took my own sanity in front line to just show him how much he made my day bright and shine and he flipped that up in less than three seconds. So I started to believe the fables.

Less painful than getting someone ditch you like a worthless whore, but I ensure myself that I was not made by stone and steel—because pretending something didn’t gloom big within a heart was futile. I should bare the stab of having the persons I love have their own happy couples, watching them in tolerated distance (so I still could see his face as not like dots and lines) just to secure myself that they wouldn’t know there’s someone nut enough to be a stalker rather than confess. I know I’m good for something else, but not hiding. So I started to lost my interest in heart since I was so dull and ugly skinny girl, leave alone to the dust I was uglier than a stray cat.

Can you imagined that today I’m standing myself as an anti-gender especially for people that cowards enough to tell their words? No, leave the queer opinions here and I’ll swat you out the door. I just don’t want to regret, losing something important. Coz if you dare to say you love him, proved it by showing, by fight him as much as you do. I lost count on how many times I’ve been rejected, but I always have those glories in the end of my path. The lost was deserved to let you get the best. It was a big script ‘the upstairs’ played along with your fate. Laugh, please, but I believe this.

In billion times of chances,

In billion times of choices,

I end up hanging neathly and seductively on Cubung’s warmness and I’m blessed. Thought of losing him was the most terrible nightmare I would never want to experienced. It help me digest on how much miracle was worked by God to let us both has this ‘thing’ grew so big in our each other heart. I was there, in apocalypse of frustrated love. I hit the pit and I lost my legs to step out from there. Azmi didn’t has any ability to move me out, and all the male was just a sex appetites in my eyes, tortilla on my wine, walking deep fried turkeys of my starving. Less than that, I leave Azmi untouched by my devil’s desire and ended up like we didn’t care each others. I walked to the SUB airport heading to WordsNation in Jakarta after I ditch his offer to accompany me there. Why should I came to Jakarta alone?

The answer : To be found by his eyes.

I swore I didn’t have any clouded mind or the dirties intention to have affair there except to meet Bayu. I didn’t mind anyone with any shits they do, or any dick they thought about me. And I never knew too there was a pair of eyes abusing my abs.

And the whole boring life run on me. Back to Surabaya means back to be a septic-tank-girl, full of shits. I grabbed several chances that bring someone called ‘male’ and screw with them. I was in my way to called myself Mrs-too-good-to-get-boyfriend but never deserved the good one. I was just tired to convince myself that everything will be a good set for my future. I grew sick in idea how much my mom wants me to bring the man. So I was absent.

Absent on chasing something, someone…

…to be too busy watching someone’s timeline. Everytime.

He’s sloppy and slut—his words, I mean. I never agree with internet-based relationship and never believed one of them came as a good choice. I don’t want someone change me into Facebook-whore, but totally he knew so many spell to cast me to be twitter-slut. And we talked, and we have everything in the world to be shared with. I was sorry I didn't see him at the WN, I must be missed him. Don't think I did that shit intentionally just to diss him. And when I realized now, I sat in front of God and asked where was my blind faith come from to believe those little avatar of him in twitter was really him. If people needs to know the face before they fall to each other, I won’t say I was fall for a little crap of his face with black T-shirt and super minimal expression of him. I mean, if I need someone prettier than him, handsome in many ways, hell, I’ll meet them in every street. I knew I didn’t need a face to be fall in. I didn’t need a good profile to be amazed with. I didn’t even need to meet the man first place to have this faith. This amazing blind faith, really so blind.

Cubung’s not God, none close a bit to angel. He’s the best magician, change a frigid dick to be a sweet girl clinging him around. And when I believe that miracle exist, I could digest everything clearly. Look dear, if you choose someone out there but me, I believe I would let you cut your wrist and bleed you dry. I won’t let you regret to ditch Ceria, Alita, or many more I lost cont, coz you have the fullest under-spell sexy girl here. You call it.

Kalau post-post sebelumnya lebih berbentuk tulisan bebas, yang ini mungkin lebih personal. Jadi, untuk yang tau blog ini, siapapun anda, kalau nggak kepengen baca tulisan menye-menye yang dikeluarin sama cowok 21 tahun gahar sangar berjenggot tebel dan berbadan baja, silahkan pejret tanda [x] di bagian tab page ini.

Percuma juga menggambarkan disadventage yang dialami selama nggak ada kamu. Satu, itu nggak ada gunanya, dua, itu nggak menolong memperbaiki keadaan, tiga, yang dibutuhkan sekarang adalah kejujuran, pengakuan, keabsahan fakta dan keberanian untuk berbicara, empat, yang namanya inisiatif itu jauh lebih berharga pada masa sekarang ini dibandingkan urgensi memulangkan Nazaruddin hanya untuk diteror “kamu mau saya hilangkan?” Ya nggak nyambung sih.

Intinya, kangen kamu.

Udah, itu doang.


Ya enggaklah, mau ditampar bolak-balik pake karung semen tiga roda emangnya?

Seperti yang kamu tahu, dan sayapun tahu, segala permasalahan yang kita alami itu awalnya hanya satu, salah paham. Kita nggak pernah masalahin soal cemburu, sesif-posesif, insecure tanpa kabar dan hal-hal lainnya yang bentuknya teknikal. Permasalahan macam itu cuma buat lesbian. Nah, salah paham. Apa sih awalnya kemaren? Sepele, yang juga salah paham. Yang saya yakin, nggak sebegitu hebatnya sampai ngebuat kamu badmood dan mogok ngomong. Saya berani taruhan potong titit kalau yang ngebuat kamu seperti itu lebih ke.. bagaimana saya (salah) menanggapi tanggapan kamu yang (sayangnya) juga salah sangka.

Salah paham.

Duer.

Seharusnya semua bisa baik dalam kurun waktu dua belas jam dalam kesendirian, kamu minta diberikan waktu, yang mana saya berikan juga dengan (sedikit tidak) ikhlas. Udah baik kan? Saya rasa kamu udah baik tuh, tapi.. sayangnya, love, cintaku, manisku, imut, brown sugar yang kalau senyum keriputnya lipet tiga, keadaan saya, yang nggak kondusif, sakit (ngaku), menjadikan pembicaraan kita nggak menyenangkan. Saya bertaruh titit saya di ceples karet kalau kamu menganggap saya waktu itu tuh masih badmood kebawa semalem, dan nggak kepengen ngomong sama kamu. Penjelasannya: nggak. Murni flu. Dan saya hanya kepengen kamu menjalankan plan utama kamu yang udah direncanain dari masih di kantor dan akhirnya sampe di rumah: istirahat. Sesimpel itu.

Tapi kayaknya saya salah interpretasi juga. Belasan jam tanpa kontak buat kita berdua itu neraka *cie*, harusnya saya ngebaca kalau kamu masih pengen ngobrol dulu barang sebentar. Kebaca kok, tapi ya.. karena.. kamu pengen istirahat (katanya) yaudah, sayanya agak memaksa jadinya. Salah pahem lage.

305 kata, dan tau nan, percobaan saya akan blak-blakan tertulis ini udah meringankan beban hati saya jauh lebih ringan dibadingkan jalan kaki semaleman dan ngerokok tanpa putus. Hweih.

Saya minta maaf, love. Emosi yang belum stabil, ditambah emang bentukan karakter yang seperti ini ngebuat kamu susah. Selalu panasan, apalagi kalau kamu lebih dulu panas. Kamu bisa bilang saya lebih dewasa dari ukuran laki-laki seusia saya, lebih mateng atau lainnya. Tapi ya, tetep, kekurangan nggak bisa ditutupi dengan batako apalagi paving blok, kelemahan saya di sumbu yang pendek belum teratasi dengan baik. Dan kalau mau tahu nih, kalau mau.. inipun udah usaha loh. *gananya*kalau masih dengan mindset yang dulu, mungkin di malam kamu minta waktu sendiri, saya udah mledagdug duluan.

Kaya begitu ya.. Capek. Garansi. Pola itu udah saya lakukan ratusan, bahkan ribuan kali selama saya idup dan menjalin hubungan. Meledak-ledak, duar duer, dan ujungnya malah kedua pihak yang babak belur lebam legam. Cukup kayaknya. Makanya saya mau mencoba cara lain, seperti yang udah saya bilang ke kamu sebelumnya, “saya akan coba cara lain, yang lebih manusiawi, relationshipawi.” Tapi.. bekas-bekasnya masih ada. Saya tetep impulsif, tetep ada rasa nggak tenang, bahkan ketika mengetik tulisan ini. Rasanya mustahil untuk mengacuhkan kamu—pasangan saya—begitu aja dan saya cengangas cengenges masa bodo. Mustahil. Yaiya, karena saya sayang sama kamu sih. Kalau sama Bisma SMASH mah saya udah ngimpi ngarep bisa dua-duaan dinner di Sky Dining Jakarta.

Kita satu takson nan. Orang-orang yang performa hidupnya menurun jauh drastis ketika ada satu hal yang nggak beres di hati. Kamu nggak pengen seperti ini, dan sayapun nggak. Tapi entah apa ya yang menghalangi kita untuk bisa kembali berjalan di satu jalur, dempetan berdua menuju matahari senja nan apik menggoda. Apa? Gengsi kah? Kurang inisiatif? Tidak ingin disalahkan? Ingin dimengerti secara penuh? Sayapun nggak tau yang mana. Karena, ketika kita mulai memperbaiki keadaan, saya ngerasa, “ah, gini doang, ngobrol sedikit pasti beres.” Yang pada prakteknya, susah setengah mati. Keinginan ada, tapi kok yo eksekusinya kayak narik gajah sirkus masuk ke kandang ayam?

Satu kata, hanya satu yang pengen saya ucapin buat kamu, satu.

Iloveyoujanganmarahanlagiyukkamucapeksayacapektohkitasamasamasalingsayangdanpengennyasenengsenengbarengapalagikitaudahlamanggakngasihjatahhayolonantianakkitatanyagimanadongyukyukbaikanloveyoupokoknyamybrownsugar.

Satu kata.

*Palelu palelu!

Sometimes I even cut myself to see how much it bleeds
It's like adrenaline, the pain is such a sudden rush for me
See everything you say is real, and I respect you cause you tell it
My girlfriend's jealous cause I talk about you 24/7
But she don't know you like I know you Slim, no one does
She don't know what it was like for people like us growin up
[EMINEM – STAN]

Today I felt honestly sick, mentally and physically. I drugged myself just to erase the pain which is won’t dissapearing my problem. I started abusing my eyes, for didn’t sleep and started the job earlier. I couldn’t say I’m in control right now too coz everytime I look at the watch, I couldn’t stop thinking any than killing the time. Microsoft Words seems like a dim flat monitor of blankness that I can’t fill anything with. My works all mess, my body so wreck and I—don’t know why—started to think that Bloody Marry could ditch my eyes out so I death.

I don’t know how to start this, but I know I should tell someone out there that I learned a lot just for a night that love is so wild so hard to tame. Even I could grab it, seems like I’m not strong enough to hold and the battle begin. I got injured, yet someone got more too. If this happens more frequent, I bet someone or both of us will die.

Yet, I could see that the fire of this rumbling flame was not something I should bother. It was so small, so unsignificant, irrational if you relate this to the big problem I face now. I never expect that this little lit of thing could burn us crips. Correct me if I’m wrong.

I may born ignorant and I’m a sucker in taming people. I don’t do smooth talk if there’s no something I want to ask. Experience teaches me how to not blend emotion into man business coz they won’t feel better if I do so. It’s like I don’t trust them to make things work good again or just stepping their pride with shitfull of shoes. Where does this learning come from? Of course from my father. I know how chicken ass he would be whenever it related with my Mom’s over-authority. Well, I wont tell people how vulnerable a man could be, but the pictures of watching my dad crying was engraved firmly I couldn’t forget. He said that man never has option to bawl, but whenever he did, it means to hold something so tight beneath every breath, muscle, and blood which his heart absorbed.

Cubung is easily cracked.

Despite his big and husky appearance, deep down there is vulnerable. Sometimes, something which won’t gonna hurt me for million years could scratch him deep and make him bleed. And my ease talking doesn’t so much worked. I know I was a bull to calm him. Everyw ords I choose was frantic and flick another fire to the decent flame, and he tried so much telling me that it won’t work but I don’t know how to do anymore.Part of me thought that maybe we could talk it privately, calm, and easy when this fight’s over. But seems like Cubung never want to dig up what was already restored. Which this thing leads into something repeatance because I didn’t know how to fix and what was caused it. Seriously, I never wanted this to happen again, but when you don’t know what caused that, every step you do possibly hit jackpot. And then battling something shallow is already in your face.

Still now, I used to not knowing what and how we couldn’t resist the fight.

If you claimed this as psychological phenomenon, welll go a head. I know this pattern could have been done by many people with many reasons. Maybe there are some theories beyond this act, and please ask to psycholog if you want to know. I am a man learned from lives, from tears and blood, from hugs and slaps. Sometimes its better than any practicion and doctor that doesn’t know anything and write prescriptions just to shut our mouth. You trust them? Well, I did, past tense.

I born lucky. My family is loud, my Mom is fat, my Dad is calm and my sisters deserve bitchslap. We are happy, safe and sound, and I don’t do drama about how sad my life. But sometimes the drama is not started in front of your TV or your family room. It came to you by his own feet. Smile at you and show his dazzling teeth. And you caught by that, and there’s restrain but you cant pull yourself together. I know I write a shit.

But some people didn’t as lucky as I am. I mean, maybe their family is a wreck, and their own life is a pain in ass. My boyriend, Cubung Hanito, could be the perfect example of those unluckyness. Well, he’s a damn smart, with a good background, he learned everything so fast for people in his age. He is a good listenner and a great writer, he could tell you much more than I am. I just want to write my own point of view as his girlfriend.

For people who has lot scars (more than any punk in his city), he used to see blood. And as a heavy smoker, he knew that coughing and has difficultness of breathing is a risk he’ll bear for entire life. It is his choices, his deal with his faith. I am outta his way for it. But if you ask me did I feel okay with his usual temper in jumping boat so quick? No I am not. I know it requires patience, and I would be so hard to do it since I never good in patience myself. But I kinda love him so much I feel so scared most of time when he hurt himself. I was so scared losing him, and I felt so angry whenever he did it by the chance of me—helping him—is similar to zero. The distance is a son of bitch if it came to helping a suicider. You just hear his ranting voice, his hissing painful, and his howling pain. I want to ripp my ears so I couldn’t hear it.

At first, I thought it was his way to show me how powerful he was cornering me. He used himself as the barter of my patience. And the scars was made because I didn’t do what he wanted me to. It was like awards of my blockhead to just didn’t give what he need. And it was reminder for my entire life that sometimes when you had this kind of boyfriend you should hold your own ego and let he get what he wanted, or not, there’s something would bleed. At least I had this kind of thought whenever we got fight. I crawled in beg for him to stop, told him that putting trigger in my head is hurting me, and maybe I just do what he wants but I don’t feel so into it.

But the fact, he did all of it in reward of his blissness. He would feel better by hurting himself, put his life on a line like I did before. It was the result of running out options. And back to self hurting, this is his way to ease his heart pain.

Now give me slap.

-to be continued-

About self hurting,

I could write more than dozen shit about this thing. I don’t know what inspiring me to write this down when I get a lotta things to wreck in my cubicle. Offices things nowdays could drown me sick. If people who barely know what this thing about and protest me, then go ahead, I wouldn’t run. This is about my feeling, I’m the subject and the object. I’m the actor and sometimes the caused too. So if you think I don’t know anything, well, this refference will help you.

I started trying this thing when I was 20. I had no clue how to convince people that I meant my words, that I was on the verge, that I need them to believe me what I’m saying. Coz if they don’t, I would risk my own life trying to. Yes sir, the big part of why I did those thing is to make them believe my words. That I meant it. That if he leave me and broke up, I’ll die. And I insist on it. I don’t know what demon possesed me, it felt so easy to swing my hand and grab the drug. I started drugging myself coz I know the risk to have lotta scars. Scars is a mark, traces, and I don’t want people to know it, I don’t need people to help me, or pity me. And if the destruction is inside, no one will ever know about it so it’s safe. But I told you what, the mess you did inside is more dangerous than any scars. It consumed your organ, your life, it degenerate you by their invisible hand, and sometimes people don’t survive a lot before its too late.

It came to be an addiction,

The first time I did it myself, it was a damn hell hurt. My body was trembling and I couldn’t find something to cure it. The bed I used to sleep wet by cold sweat, and every nerves in my body was aching. Yet, I couldn’t say anything since this was unexpected hurt. But when the pain’s gone, there were something unexplain. It cames to bliss, as if the pain could ditch my mind from the real problem—the heart. I was busy writhle in pain and forgot what was beyond the main problem caused this. I forgot about the relationship, I forgot about people. I just focused on my own and that’s why I felt lighter. And because of it, I did the repeat. Everytime I felt lonely and cornered by my own problem, I used to run to it. And it deserved repeat.

I didn’t count how many pills, and how many injection. It was so easy. Whenever the problem came, I was the first person jump the boat so fast. I drifted myself to the dullness of overdoses. And the world would stop to round, or it was stil running but I didn’t care anymore.

Just to remind this thing I laugh a loud. I did the stupid thing just because one person—one singular stupid person—which now I don’t care where. I was so closed to death just because a single ridicilous love story and I ditch my family, future, almost everything, even God. And when I wake up with multiple infusion, and a snuggle cried of my mother, I realized that I won’t do that again.

-to be continued-


----------
maaf kalo bhs enggris saya nggilani.

God said, something too much is bad. Too much eating, too much napping, too much love? Definitely does. Have you ever thought how many suicide attempts has occurred due to heart-breaking? Well, never count, but unfortunately I did the process, once, so I knew how terrible it was. To love someone too much was a double edge knife sharps. One, it hurt him/her by the enormous of feelings you have towards. Two, it kills you right up if you didn’t consider your life among the feelings. I still didn’t count the needy aspect and how fragile your heart toward the unfaithfulness.

It was so bad. It hits so hard and you’ll lost your hold. It striked in the most fragile side and consumed your emotions faster than fire eats the rye.

But when we talked about the good aspect of too much loving, there are more things, good things, come up. By have those feeeling too much, you’ll find yourself so much joyful if you knew she/he has something good to hear. You’ll hit the highest peak everytime you spend your time with him/her. Works and study spirit increased more than any consultant or motivator could done. You have a bright aim to set up with him/her, graduated with her, married her, have her offspring, blabla. It always lots step further than what the present had in store for us.

Bright shine, right?

The thing is, sometimes, when we know what is the good and the bad, we can’t stop ourself for doing so. I was a lot more than knowing them, I EVER did them myself. The negative and positif, the finest and the most difficult, the lovely and the unclean, I felt that by my own skin. But if you asked me, did I change? Did I stay repeating this thing with my new boyfriend even I knew the bad side? I will always said, YES. Definitely.

I’m not an accountant, I’m not a gold counters, I’m not a pharmacist, I don’t do counting and differ bad seed from good. I just do what every lover in the world did, I give, and take what he gave me. We are reciprocal, we did the ‘each other’-ing. I don’t care how many things I’ve bough, how much cost the law, how much sacrifice shall be done, as long we have each other. As long what we fight is getting real.

I love Hani.

And he loves me the way he does.

Regret is a word we can’t found the description on ourself.

Tunggu. Kalau Nanda bilang, siapa yang begitu gobloknya istirahat seminggu di kasur karena tipes? Jawabannya, semua orang, sayang. Sekarang gue mengkaji ulang kata-kata gue, tindakan yang gue lakukan tempo hari, pacar mana sih yang akan ngebiarin mentari paginya melakukan perjalanan jauh 14 jam, sementara di tubuhnya lagi beranak pinak bakteri penghancur usus? Ada? Kalaupun ada, pastilah orang itu idiot secara masif dan punya gangguan perasaan akut yang mungkin menghantam modula oblongatanya sampe dia begitu frigid. Oh yeah, itu gue. Sekejam apapun gue meneriakkan “tidur!” “makan yang banyak!” “jadi anak bandel amat kalo dibilangin!” tetep, sebagai lelaki berhati kaca, gue nggak bisa menutup kuping saat Nanda merengek manja mesra meminta ijin ke gue, pasti mulutnya manyun-manyun sensual deh.

Dan gue pun ijinin, dengan kepaksa.

Apa sih.

Kalau dia mau memaksakan datang sebegitu kuatnya, sampai memaksakan diri melawan rasa sakit yang ada di badan, hanya untuk ketemu gue? Yang orang-orang mungkin bilang ‘cuma pacar’, apakah gue berhak melawan keinginannya itu? Ketika gue berada di posisi Nanda, mungkin gue akan melakukan hal yang sama. lihat sesuatu disini? Perhatikan poin ‘jika kita bertukar posisi’, apa artinya? Artinya, secara naif, gue mengatakan bahwa dia adalah orang yang mau susah-susah buat gue, mau mengorbankan banyak hal hanya untuk gue yang bertitel ‘cuma pacar’ ini—karena, gue pun akan melakukan sebaliknya. Pertukaran yang setara, apa gue harus menawar lebih lagi?

Nggak.

Gue jujur, gue nggak bisa mengontrol kadar cinta yang gue berikan kepada seseorang, pada Nanda. Bahkan awalnya, gue berusaha untuk nggak memberikan semuanya, beberapa persen cukup, gue nggak mau terjerumus di lembah needy dan impulsif untuk yang kesekian kalinya. Tapi apa? Pada Nanda gue melakukan kesalahan dalam tanda kutip yang sama, gue memberikan semua stok cinta yang ada di gudang hati, tanpa ada ketakutan untuk kelaparan pangan pada musim kemarau, nggak, gue nggak takut. Kenapa? Dia bukan worth dying, tapi worth living.

Huruf menjadi kata yang berikutnya menjadi kalimat, paragraf tersusun yang berujung pada wacana. Ciuman, pelukan, dekapan, nafas yang memburu, jerit yang tertahan, itu semua berarti hidup yang membuat gue penasaran, seperti apa hari berikutnya? Apa kata-kata yang akan dia lontarkan? Seperti apa balasan yang gue berikan? Seperti apa marahnya Nanda? Dan bagaimana gue berusaha mendamaikannya? Yang pada akhirnya, berujung pada sebuah keinginan, gue mau terus melihat Nanda senyum dengan begitu manis, yap, plus keriput di sudut mata kanannya yang menjadi favorit gue.

Stasiun, pulang.

Setelah beberapa hari yang dilewati bersama, akhirnya ada yang dinamakan perpisahan. Menyebalkan, pasti. Gue hanya pengen cemberut di hari terakhir, menunjukkan muka kusut nggak disetrika, diam total dan ingin Nanda menghibur gue dengan lawakan-lawakan garingnya. Tapi nggak, sayangnya. Daripada melakukan itu semua, bukannya malah memberatkan dia untuk pulang ninggalin beruang grizzly desperate di stasiun? Hayah. Makanya gue cengengesan, ketawa-ketiwi menghibur Nanda yang tiba-tiba berubah emo dahsyat. Sedikit-sedikit nunduk, sedikit-sedikit murung, apa jadinya kalau gue ikutan seperti itu? Yang ada dicap pasangan suram sama mas-mas tukang anter makanan di Madtari.

Pasrah, gue hanya bisa melihat Nanda dari balik kaca jendela kereta, ngeliat dia merajuk manja dengan ekspresi-ekspresi manisnya. Haaaaah.. pengen rasanya njitak. Tapi tahu endingnya? Dia turun, lima menit sebelum kereta berangkat, senyum-senyum melihat gue haha-hihi yang ketauan palsunya. Minta cium pipi, katanya. Diciumlah kedua pipi, dan bonus.. satu ciuman tepat di bibir, di tengah stasiun besar Bandung yang lagi ramai-ramainya. Nggak terasal amoral, nggak terasa mesum, itu hanya sesimpel tanda cinta. Sesimpel itu.

Kereta berangkat, dan gue ngaso setengah jam di stasiun, ngerokok. Cuma mikir..

Yeah, she’s worth living.

There were times when you just can’t elude yourself from something unpredictable, there were chances where they wouldn’t run into you twice, there were point when you though you could just kick your ass out and said ‘this gotta be something! And I wil kiss my knee crying if I miss this!’. It came to me, twice. I let the first gone, but the second time… I ran into it, spread my arm wide, I won’t miss this.


It was just typical long week end, one big Christian day on Thursday. And the almighty Director lend his helpful hand by adding another ‘forced vacation’ as people used to call cuti bersama on the Friday. Means, my Saturday comes on Wednesday and what is more than miracle when I just get my mind bored by the usual-do-nothing-vacation in home and though maybe I could have long-date with Hani since he seems okay with my idea.


I grabbed my ticket to Bandung, nearly one week before the big day.


And what else more than a fuck if the H-3 typus shot you down like a birdie. Like you’re boneless useless and your morning glory was so another life a go. I was deadly weak in the point my mom thought I should get hospitalized. And I felt so cracked a bit when Hani said I should be on my bed for week if I want to get well soon. No fucking way, the ticket was on my pocket! And who’s the stupid one getting rest on typus for a week? So gay.


If I should die on my way to reach you, so be it.


I mean it.


And there we fall again. Like little birds in springtime, every drop of words mean everything when I could grab him in hug, kiss him like we never did, and have our time like we never get life before. I got well soon as I step my wedges in Bandung. Even mostly I still have some difficulties in eating (habit huh), everything never felt so fine like that. We ran into so much places, holding hand each other, kissing, make love (typically, it is our freedom of speech if we call it that way or not, eh?). He was my cure, and God blessed me with this beautiful moment. I could watch the sprinkle of lights in the high slope of Upper High Dago with a glass of warm milk and fascinating boyfriend. What is more heaven-like than this?


So, when I grade how much I love Hani, like now, I’d like to say the most delicate sentences. One, he’s not an artificial substitutional of persons you may thought related to my unrequited love. Two, I would definitely leave one Nash, two Nash, hundred of Nash, thousand of Nash if it means this thing I should did to get Hani. He is everything, right now, all last. And I would definitely kick one, two, three, thousand Alita, thousand more of Ruri, thousand more of Tika, of every woman that interested in him. I hate competition.

Pada dasarnya post di bawah ini nyindir gw, iya kan sayang? Gw ga produktif udah hitungan bulan. Ga cuma di blog, tumblr, bahkan di RPF yang saban hari gw buka cuma ngeliat siggy gallery setelah itu close lagi. I’m in my darkest pit—sorry. Kalau menulis, mungkin gw bisa bikin satu post baru yang lumayan panjang dengan judul : Basa-Basi Pacar Sok Sibuk. Terlebih kesibukan itu memang satu dari ratusan alasan fundamental kenapa gw setiap nyalain kompi rumah yang dibuka malah Plant Vs Zombie #levelling #plak. Maafkan aku, sayang. Toh cintamu ga berkurang kan? KAN?

Sebenernya sebel juga kalo nulis tapi ga langsung dipost, alias di save, dan ending-endingnya gw lupa ngesave tuh scrap dimana. Nol lagi, mulai lagi, dengan hati mencelos karena sebelumnya udah nulis semuanya dengan gaya tulisan sebagus yang gw bisa. Hasilnya, jelek, klik kanan, delete. Dan roda penantian Hani yang pingin baca tulisan-tulisan gw harus diputar olang lagi dari 0 km. Sebenernya yang salah adalah… kompi! Salahkan dia karena dia lupaan nyimpen file tulisan-tulisanku dimana! Dasar kompi butut! Rongsokan! Bikin bengek aja!

*ga tau diri mode off*

*sungkem lagi di paha Hani*

There’s too much story… *kumat Britishnya*

Bersyukur pada Allah SWT gw dipertemukan sama lelaki ini, yang pertama kalinya gw lihat sendiri—berhasil bermetamorfosis jadi pribadi yang nekan kemarahannya dan lebih stabil, tanpa basa-basi. Gw pernah mengacung sumpah berubah jadi lebih sabar, yang ujung-ujungnya gw langgar, dan begitu banyak hati yang terkapar. Dan dari pengalaman itu gw tahu betapa susahnya, sengsaranya, berubah jadi seseorang yang lebih virtue dari kita yang sekarang. Jadi gw sempet frustasi dan pingin segera mengakhiri hubungan kalau Hani sedang dalam taraf raging blaze, marah yang destruktifnya ke badan dia sendiri sedang gw masih santai nyeruput choconiero, ga sadar dengan apa yang sedang dia lakukan di seberang.

It left scars on his chest, and left trauma planted in my brain.

Gw nangis, kalut, sedih dan takut setiap dia masuk tahap catasthrope itu. Dan betapa beda bobot badan juga sangat memuakkan pada tahap ini. Saat dia sedang ada di motornya, memacu dengan kecepatan di atas rata-rata, menderu-deru, dan gw yang gemetaran di belakang punggungnya. Mungkin kalau gw lebih gede dikitan, Hani sedikit sungkan macu keceng-kenceng #ganyambung.

Sekilas soal insiden KFC (kita namain itu aja ya Hani). Awalnya Cuma gegara blog, yang ternyata baru gw tahu kalo si Hani itu menuliskan mantannya di sana sebagai inspirator. Dan gw ngerasa yang…”HECK! EMANG YANG NGAJARIN LO SABAR DIA DOANG SELAMA INI? GW APA? SANDAL SWALLOW?” dan seperti biasa itu cuma terjadi dalam hati, yang mungkin bisa langsung diraaskan Hani dan endingnya dia yang marah sendiri, frustasi. Dipaculah itu Pulsar segede emak kenceng-kenceng melewati jalanan utama di Surabaya, Jl. A. Yani, menerobos lampu merah, nyelip bus, belok-belok diantara mobil gede dan sepeda motor. Gw takut. Kalau belum pernah liat gw histeris dan teriak-teriak geje say Astagfirullaah, Ya Allah Ya Rabbi, setiap dia macu kecepatan diatas 80 km/jam… yah, lo ga tau betapa putihnya muka gw waktu itu.

Karena waktu itu ada Insan dan Elsa, gw ga terlalu open reaksi. Tahulah kalau gw ngambek gimana, dingin, motionless, expressiveless. Sebagus mungkin gw tutupin borok yang berdenyut-denyut di dada gw dan ninggalin Hani karena telinga gw mendengar instruksi “Sana dulu” yang pada akhirnya berujung salah paham dan makin parah. Gw siapin 2 paket makanan dan minuman sembari nunggu Hani dingin dari semedinya, Insan dan Elsa udah balik pulang duluan. Setengah jam gw tunggu dan Hani belum menampakkan batang hidung. Gw makin frustasi, mungkin daripada keliatan di depan publik lagi nangis galau mending pulang sendirian aja. Gw sms Hani, dan ga ada balasan. Makin ga jelas hati gw, terbakar rasa muak. Pingin rasanya lempar spageti ke udara, tapi sayang, gw laper. Tapi ga mau makan kalo sendirian, ga bisa makan kalo lagi beranteman.

Akhirnya gw telfon Hani, dengar suara dia pecah hampir nangis dan gw tahu kalau dia begitu kalutnya ga ada gw. Apalah arti 40 ribu spageti, colonel spicy, mocca float dsb. Gw jalan ke arah dia, dia tarik tangan gw dan nangis di…. Parkir mobil. Malu, gw tutupin dia. Masih sempet ya gw malu, just kill me. Trus kita ngomong tatapan mata, di sanalah airmata leleh kek air bah. Ga pake kontrol, mungkin urat malu gw udah putus, mungkin gw ga mau bertopeng di hadapan dia, mungkin perasaan bersalah ini sudah pada puncaknya, munkin semuanya. Semuanya.

Lega, selajutnya cinta membuncah. Masih nget waktu dia jadi komentator paling berisik waktu gw main Plant Vs Zombie, dan setelahnya gw tidur dengan khusyuk setelah dibelai-belai. Mama dan Dinda jadi saksi, aih.

Yang berbeda, kali ini ga ada darah yang leleh dari kulitnya.

Awali setiap tulisan dengan I miss you.

Cieh.

Gue punya suatu kebiasaan, sejauh ini gue mengatakan ini adalah kebiasaan yang jelek. Apa itu? Ini menyangkut yang namanya produktivitas. Seberapa efisien sih pemanfaatan waktu yang lo punya, apakah ada gunanya? Kepake dengan baik? Apakah waktu yang dipake itu menghasilkan sebuah output yang memuaskan? Terlebih, apa lo udah menggunakan waktu lo itu sebaik-baiknya?

Gue menjunjung tinggi efisiensi, banget. Yah, walau kadang molor dan kebentur kepuasan pribadi. Tapi tetep, efisiensi gue pegang sebagai salah satu pedoman hidup. Masalahnya, seperti yang baca disini tau, ini blog tujuannya sharing sama pacar, jadi, efisiensi ini ada kaitannya sama pacar gue dong, uhuy. Garis besarnya, gue bisa menjadi orang paling nggak efisien kalo udah deket sama pacar. Seenggaknya selama ini ya. Kalau udah bareng, gue nggak bisa ngapa-ngapain selain ngeliatin muka manisnya si Nanda itu, ngacak-ngacak rambutnya, godain sampe dia blushing sendiri, nyiumin bibirnya dan segala-gala hal yang ada Nanda pokoknya. Hal lain? Blas dus.

Gue nggak bisa kerja, gue nggak bisa baca apa-apaan, gue bahkan nggak bisa nulis, menghasilkan sesuatu pun nihil. Sekedar contoh, saat gue masih jadian sama mantan terakhir gue itu, gue sama sekali nggak membaca satu buku pun. Yeah. Satu setengah tahun lewat hampa, kutu buku di mata gue pun kayaknya udah ngubur diri di tengah tumpukan belek saking lapernya. Buat gue ini masalah, apalagi gue menyadari itu dan gue tetep cengar-cengir. Yaiya, toh hang out sama pacar itu menyenangkan, kenapa gue harus protes ketika hal-hal yang gue sukai itu, efisiensi gue itu tergantikan sama kebersamaan yang intim?

Sampai sekarang?

Yeah, sampai sekarang. Mungkin gue harus agak bersyukur, domisili kami berjauhan, dia di Surabaya sana, gue di Jakarta/Bandung, waktu bareng yang minim membuat gue punya banyak waktu untuk diri sendiri, melakukan hobi gue dan keinginan untuk menghasilkan sesuatu itu begitu gede. Nggak kebayang kalau satu kota, pasti gue maunya plus sukarela akan berusaha untuk terus deket sama si Nanda. Apalagi dia adorable gitu, mana tahan ninggalin barang sebentar? Dan ini didasari atas keinginan sendiri, bukan karena disuruh nganter, disuruh ngapel, disuruh-suruh apapun. Tapi emang pengen, bukan dari pihak satunya. Apalagi diminta? Yang pasti nggak bisa nolak.

Jelek? Ho oh. Tapi udah mendarah daging beranak pinak di gue mau diapain? Solusinya, tentu nggak bisa instan, jarak yang jauh ini mungkin udah bisa dijadikan pegangan sementara sampai gue bisa meluruskan prioritas, kebutuhan mana yang lebih urgen untuk diutamakan, kapan saatnya gue menentukan waktu buat diri sendiri, dan kapan saatnya gue harus ciumin bibir Nanda yang katanya swollen itu.

Bisa? Ya harus, gue nggak pengen hubungan lovey dovey yang sangat menyenangkan ini malah jadi pemicu gue untuk tidak produktif. Duer.

Belum tandas badan gw dikunyah springbed, dan belum jauh nyeri-nyeri nan ngilu meninggalkan daging dan persendian, dan gw masih belum mau percaya kalau gw balik lagi di Surabaya--sendiri. Njing, sumpah gw nangis ngetik ini.


Dibanding segala melankolia yang pernah gw laluin, dri yang paling sarap sampai yang paling sehat, bagian kek gini selalu kill me instead. Waktu beranjak jadi musuh paling ababil, yang kadang bikin lupa, kadang bikin pingin jerit nangis, kadang ngajak damai, kadang nyulut berantem. 5 hari untuk tiap tiga bulan itu siksaan paling manjur bikin otak ga waras.


Tulisan ini juelek, parah, ga pake mikir dan ogah ngedit kalau kelar nanti, plus, sebagai siraman penghilang gersang dari hari-hari disleksia atas ke-non-aktifan gw ngeblog. Maaf untuk Hani, yang pasti menunggu cukup lama sampai sebuah telur keluar dari kepala gw--ujug-ujug setengah busuk kek gini. Too much love kills me.


Gw ga mau nulis soal apa yang udah gw lewatin di Bandung, karena... kalau gw tulis, laptop banjir ingus dan tangis. Malu, ada Dinda pula di sini. Jadi dipending untuk lain kali, toh tulisan gw lagi ga konstruktif, ga kompositif, ga kualitas. Jangan sampai moment-moment sakral nan manis sadis itu rusak gegara isinya gw tulis ngasal, ga makna, ga jadi sejarah. Terus kenapa ini gw terus nulis? Apa yang pingin gw utarakan? Entahlah. Mungkin kalo bisa liat muka gw in real, siapapun bakal tahu kalo gw lagi terpendam deeply in shit, di satu sisi kerjaan kantor gw buang, di sisi lain mo nulis buat editorial aja ga kelar-kelar. Demi apapun, gw gay banget.


Pukul 11.05 waktu laptop. Ga sanggup rampungin kerjaan dan ga tega bangunin Hani yang tadi sempet pamit tidur sebentar. Sungguh telinga gw ga akan terbiasa dengan batuknya, dan hati gw pun keiris-iris sakit, nyeri, dan ikut berdarah kalo inget gw ga bisa apa-apa saat Hani sakit kek gini. Hani, if you read this, I love you. Pasti bosen dengernya ya? Terus gimana dong?


Galau ternyata sakit ya.


Dan Efek Rumah Kaca ini band paling gay yang pernah gw denger. Mampus sana. Jangan bikin makin banjir dong :((

Melankolia
Music : Efek Rumah Kaca

Tersungkur di sisa malam
Kosong dan rendah gairah

Puisi yang romantik
Menetes dari bibir

Murung itu sungguh indah
Melambatkan butir darah

Nikmatilah saja kegundahan ini
Segala denyutnya yang merobek sepi

Kelesuan ini jangan lekas pergi
Aku menyelami sampai lelah hati

Efek Rumah Kaca - Melankolia.mp3

Sumpeh, ane vingung khalo ngetik engghak vhake rhogok.

Rokok itu sangat membantu gue, beneran. Selain membantu menghilangkan anxiety gue yang berlebihan di tempat umum, benda sepanjang 9 sentimeter ini juga sangat membantu gue dalam berbicara. Ngobrol. Apalagi ketika membahasa sesuatu yang pake kepala, atau mungkin dalam kesempatan lain, hati. Punya sesuatu yang bisa dikerjakan, dikonsumsi tanpa harus menganggu otot mulut bekerja itu sangat mengalihkan gue dari emosi. Mungkin sugestif, tapi andaikan iya pun, toh memang membantu, makanya cuek.

Apa misal? Kemarin nih, gue disidang sama orang-orang rumah, dan itu kali pertamanya gue minta ke mereka untuk diizinkan ngerokok, dalam rumah, ruang keluarga. Haha. Tapi tentunya dengan kipas angin rotasi maksimal menerpa muka gue dan jendela. Kenapa? Gue nggak yakin bisa menghindari amarah saat itu, jadinya ya mendingan gue melakukan pencegahan dengan menjepit batang tembakau di kedua jari gue ini. Dan hasilnya kawan? Sukses, amarah memang ada, di hati, panas, menggelegak berontak minta dikeluarkan, tapi syukurnya enggak. Antara diselamatkan rokok, atau gue mulai menyadarkan diri lebih hebat lagi kalau ngamuk seperti itu fitrahnya cuma buat gue, gue doang yang lega,tapi orang lain ya ngeri total. Uhuk.

Sekarang gue ngerokok djarum super instead of wismilak, ga dapet oy.

Apa ya?

Gue pengen deh ngobrol sama My Love sambil ngerokok. Pasti bisa lebih santai, lebih rileks, karena kecemasan itu gangguan paling menyebalkan buat gue, dan iya, gue masih bisa loh grogi sama pacar sendiri. Aneh? Enggak. Justru wajar, kan groginya sama orang yang punya posisi paling tinggi di hati gue, katakanlah, grogi itu apresiasi. Ngaco. Hueh. Jadi kangen.

Apalagi ribut yang kemaren. Cukup besar, cukup membahayakan. Walaupun sempet pasrah, tapi syukurnya semua menjadi baik, bahkan mungkin lebih baik dari sebelumnya. Hehe. Buat gue nggak ada yang namanya masa ‘jinak-jinak merpati’, ngga ada yang namanya masa pembentukan awal sebuah hubungan itu isinya yang seneng-seneng doang. Namanya juga pembentukan, penyesuaian yang mungkin jika itu dikaitkan dengan gue sebagai pelaku, jadinya malah penyesuaian yang kebablasan. Karena, pada dasarnya gue bukan orang yang cocok punya tautan.

Besar-besaran deh makanya.

Pengen gue ngobrolin masalah kemaren itu secara langsung, kita bedua duduk di sofa Coffee Corner (iya sofa, seenggaknya posisi yang dia nyaman deh walau gue gasuka.) Kopi dan makanan tersaji menggoda, gue dengan Americano tanpa gula yang biasa, Nanda dengan Café Mocha nya, cemilan-cemilan kecil dan segelas air dingin yang dibagi berdua. Gue merokok dengan impulsif, menatap dia dengan senyuman getir tertahan. Sementara Nanda bermuka jutek bete yang jelas-jelas ada tulisan di jidatnya: “Puhlease deh, godain gue, colek gue, jangan diem aja dengan muka sok begok elo, cuuk!” berlangsung lama demikian sampai akhirnya ada yang lelah duluan menahan beban berat kebisuan kolektif itu.

Ngobrol panjang, sedikit tarik urat, nada tinggi yang mungkin kelepasan tanpa bermaksud begitu, keheningan yang kembali menjalar, dan perbincangan lagi. Rotasi interaksi yang terus berulang sampai kita berdua lelah ngulangnya. Pelanggan-pelanggan lain juga udah mulai pulang, terlarut malam. Gue sama Nanda bolak-balik melihat jam, sadar akan waktu dan harus pulang tapi nggak ingin, masih ada yang harus diselesaikan. Tapi apa? Masalah yang nggak jelas juntrungan asal musababnya ini hanya bikin capek, sampai bingung harus mulai darimana. Lelah. Fisik dan mental. Sampai akhirnya akan ada salah satu yang mengatakan yang nggak bisa dikatakan, kalimat sederhana simpel yang membuat semuanya menjadi baik, dengan magis.

“I love you, baikan yuk..”

“Mana bibirnya.. sini..”

Gue males meminta, gue males punya harapan, gue males berekspektasi. Kenapa? Karena nggak semua hal yang kita inginin orang lain untuk lakuin itu bisa dikabulin, diamini atau dilakukan. Faktor macem-macem, kondisional yang emang nggak memungkinkan untuk dikabulin atau emang sekedar gak mau ngabulin. Buat gue sama aja, sama-sama ditolak intinya, dan oh Tuhan segala Demit dan Lelembut paling buruk rupa di Dunia dan Akherat, nggak dikabulin buat gue itu sama kayak nyuruh gue melek kontinyu beberapa hari berturut-turut.

Makanya, enakan ngasih, masa bodo terus-terusan, masa bodo mau dibilang manjain atau apalah namanya. Yang penting nggak usah ada kata kecewanya, nggak usah ada kata gondoknya, nggak usah ada kata takut untuk ditolaknya, ngerasa worthless.

Hehe, akhirnya bikin post di sini karena gundah yang ga tau mau disalurkan ke sebelah mana. Satu sisi, gw pingin muntah, sisi lain saking marahnya sampe gw diem aja. Padahal gw terkenal destruktif kalo ngamuk, tapi entah, rasanya saking kerasnya berusaha ga marah, gw malah diem aja. Hai dear, if you were there, read this thing—don’t believe in every word I type, biasanya kalo lagi marah bukan otak yang bicara, tapi emosi. Sama halnya waktu kita bertengkar di telfon, please don’t mind of this. Aku cuma berusaha melepas apa yang ga bisa kusalurkan dengan nunjek wajah mama. Hahaha, syiiiitttt. Like I could aja nunjek muka segala.


Kalo mau nyalahin masa lalu dan masalah bakal kelar, maka gw akan terus-terusin nyalahin kebegoan yang pernah gw lakuin sama Nash. Iya bego, bego ketahuan gituan, bego pake bawa-bawa ortu ke masalah perkelaminan, bego sampe gw setengah gila dan hampir tinggal nama di nisan. Kalau udah tahap itu, dan orang tua gw ga tau, apa ya… istilah Jawanya ‘kebacut’.


Gw ngomong apa sih, gueje.


Iya, Nash alias Muhammad Iqbal Javi adalah duri dalam otak yang gw kira ga mungkin bisa sembuh. Gw ga bisa maju sama Azmi, atau ga bisa ngeiyain ajakan pacaran si emaknya Dino sama anaknya gara-gara empat huruf brengsek yang gw ciptakan sendiri. Betapa tiga tahun itu kesia-siaan tahap akut yang ternyata baru gw sadarin sekarang. You’ve changed me, a lot, more than anyone could this far. And yet I thank God for you, for everything we have today, and everything we’ll seek.


Inti masalahnya, traumatic. Trauma, tapi bukan gwnya—ortu gw bo’. Iya dulu gw trauma, sampai bisu tiga bulan, sampai berangkat ke Jogja demi berada di kota dan menghirup udara yang sama dengan Nash di jarak yang kurang dari 10 kilometer. Dan seolah belum puas, gw saking traumanya sampai ga bisa ngeliat sapa-sapa yang udah deketin gw, membangun tembok nan kokoh tinggi menjulang bahkan buat siapapun yang sekedar pingin melihat. Trust me, kalau kamu datang sebelum Azmi, yang kamu dapet dari aku cuma sakit hati (kalo kamu berminat sama aku sih).


Gw ga inget gimana caranya tuh revisi skripsi lolos, atau test TOEFL gw above advance dengan keadaan gw masih bisu, ga berani keluar kamar (dan seinget gw, Henny sampe nyewa mobil njemput gw demi bawa gw berangkat kampus ngasih revisi dan ujian Toefl), dan yang jelas—otak tercecer. Saking takutnya, gw sampe pake surat-suratan sama mama papa dinda sebagai ganti gw ngomong apa. Saking takutnya, keluar rumah aja gw langsung histeris. Saking takutnya, gw ga mau terima telfon siapapun—termasuk dosen gw yang sengaja nelfon biar gw bangkit lagi. Gw berhenti bereaksi, dan hanya menerima reaksi. Gw ga pernah nulis surat buat siapapun, mereka yang nulis surat. Gw ga pernah telfon, mereka yang telfon di loudspeaker dan gw sekedar mendengarkan nasehat, wejangan, semangat, blabla itu. Hari-hari berlalu dengan gw ngeringkuk di kamar mama dan cuma keluar kalo gw butuh ke kamar mandi. Dengan keadaan itu, gimana ortu ga nyadar kalo memang terjadi sesuatu yang ‘lebih’ di antara gw dan Nash? Ortu dongo kalo ga kerasa itu mah.


Lha terus?


Haha, sudah sampe sini dan hati gw suruh berhenti nulis. Ini kampretos. Aku tahu kamu pasti khawatir baca post separuh nyawa kek gini, dan aku belum menjelaskan apa-apa tentang sesuatu yang bikin aku marah. Entahlah dear, aku ngerasa berbeda selama bersamamu. Aku jadi sering impulsive, tapi kutelan lagi apapun itu. Seringnya kamu yang sebel dan bilang, “Bilang aja sampe kelar. Kamu pacarku dan aku pacarmu, seamis apapun masalah itu toh ga menghentikanku untuk pingin tahu.” Yap. Bahkan sekarangpun aku bisa bayangin suara kamu ngomong gitu. “Nandaaaa, keluarin, cepet, atau mau aku marah?” Hehe, the thing is—untuk yang ini rasanya lebih baik kutelan sendiri.


Oke, ga lega sama sekali. Uwaaahhhh. Jari langsung gatel pingin jepit sesuatu dan nyulut di depan bibirku. Mungkin segalanya lebih baik dengan itu, hmm, nyedot aspal dilinting.


Maaf, dear.

Prejudice itu rugi. Dan gue rugi. Gue selalu membayangkan Surabaya sebagaimana diceritakan orang dan kabar angin yang berhembus semilir, Surabaya itu puannas! Pengap! Tapi toh salah, nggak semengerikan mindset yang udah terbentuk menahun. Kuda besi melaju, pangerannya kecil, kurus, lesu, sekali lihat mungkin akan mengira gampang doyong ketiup angin. Sang putrinya ageng, besuar, dan wajah yang terlalu banyak suntikan steroid hingga terlihat sangat macho, makanya, fail. Seperti yang gue sebut sebelumnya, gue dibonceng, rancu, ragu, nggak enak baik hati maupun harga diri, terasa dorongan nyemplung ke sumur meningkat ingin melarikan diri, tapi mungkin nggak ada salahnya kalau sesekali.

Malam Surabaya sejuk, angin gelebug sesekali menepuk leher yang terlalu lama kaku dipakai duduk. Pemandangan tenang, beberapa kali terlihat banyak anak muda di tempat-tempat tertentu yang nampak diamini sebagai tempat nongkrong kolektif. Jalanan lengang, entah karena memang hari merah, atau mungkin dewi jalanan lagi berpihak pada kami yang udah nggak tahan melampiaskan rasa kangen kelewat rindu #dueh. Bisu, sesekali basa-basi ragu, ingin berbicara satu dua hal tapi ngeri malah menjadi gagu, gak lucu kalau-kalau dia mendapatkan kesan pertama gugupan tercetak bold di jidat gue dong. Bicara itu verbal, kadang komplementer kadang substitusi sama non verbal, gue memilih subtitusi sebagai fungsi, maka, gue peluk dari belakang badan mungilnya, mungil. Kalau ada tiga orang Nanda, dijamin masuk semua. Disaat itu gue sadar, dominatriks nggak harus dibelakang setir.

Serasa mimpi, tapi gue tau ini nyata, soalnya pas meluk sakit kepentok tulang.

*duakk*

Gue memilih warteg ketimbang resto, gue memilih motor ketimbang mobil, dan gue memilih warkop ketimbang café—walau sesekali gue mengamini ajakan kesana demi tali yang dinamakan pertemanan. Makanya, ketika gue mendengar nama destinasi yang akan kita tuju, rada pesimis, gue langsung cek, apa rokok gue cukup? Apa tampilan gue sendiri udah cukup bikin gue nyaman? Dan.. apa gue siap keliatan seperti bromocorah kecelup Versace? Karena, jika sesuai dugaan, pasti gue bakalan berwajah kayak abis disetubuhi lelembut. Dan syukurnya, nggak. Tempatnya nggak seglamour yang gue kira dan masih ada ‘rumah’nya sebagai konsep, lega, ditoleransi, dan mungkin lebih ke arah anggukan pengaminan. Dan my lovely brown sugar? Gue nggak bisa melepaskan pandangan dari dia, barang sedetik, terkesan gombal dan penajisan jamaah dari yang ngebaca, tapi sayangnya, itu nyata baik literal maupun metafor.

Perut lapar, kepala saking pusingnya sampai gue meminta digampar pake carvil, dan kaki pun melangkah masuk. Nanda familiar, gue asing. Satu Coffee corner bagai disihir, seorang perempuan dateng dan semua mata langsung tertuju padanya. Dan bukan pandangan biasa, heran setengah takjub, bibir menganga setitik terperangah, respon ajaib yang muncul kalau perempuan ini sudah melakukan salah satu dari tujuh dosa besar. Sedikit merasa, karena ada gue, karena si manis bawa cowok? Mungkin. Nanda menyapa kanan kiri, gue antara menunduk dan tersenyum getir, sekedar balasan sebatas lengkung penghormatan. Ada satu titik, dimana gue merasa ada sesuatu yang aneh. Markas tersembunyi yang sayangnya di depannya jelas-jelas ditulis “rahasia”, sama aja boong. Dan beberapa saat kemudian setelah diverifikasi, bener. Heu. Si cipika-cipiki mantan affair valentine, guk.

“Disana?”

Gue menolak, berkenaan dengan tempat duduk, gue menafikkan sofa dan coffee tablenya walaupun gue minum kopi kayak minum susu, my love tau kenapa. Sofa dan coffee table nggak cocok sama gue, yang menjadikan jarak adalah hal yang penting dalam sebuah obrolan, ketika gue di sofa, dengan adanya kemungkinan gue bakalan bisa senderan, itu berarti gue menjauhkan jarak obrolan dong, nggak mau. Sementara ketika gue maksa untukk memajukan tubuh, kaki gue yang kepanjangan bakal ngebuat gue keliatan jongkok, nggak ergonomis. Ah kawan, itu cuma alibi belaka, intinya sih, gue milih meja dan kursi konvensional karena emang pengen lebih deket aja sama si Nanda :3. Yea, walau dengan situasi dan kondisi yang berbeda, sofa memang lebih mendekatkan, sampai gak ada jarak malah. Eaa..

Duduk, badan dinyamankan, menu datang dan pilihan dijatuhkan, 3 jenis kopi yang berbeda, dua jenis makanan yang berlainan. Kami ngobrol, dari sekedar prolog nggak perlu, sampai ke tahapan yang bisa bikin NWO berdecak kagum saking konspiratif apa yang kami bicarakan *halah* Gue menikmati waktu-waktu itu, dari kopi sampai tempat, terutama dia. Hal-hal seperti makanan, tempat, kemana dan mau apa itu trivial buat gue, hampir nggak ada artinya, andaikan cocok, enak, dan fun itu hanya sekedar tambahan, ekstra. Apa yang penting? Buat gue, dengan siapa lo menjalani itu semua. Dan dengan Nanda? Singkirkan semua yang ada di meja gue, dan gantikan dengan dia yang tersenyum semanis gula aren, itu aja gue udah ngutang.

Detail bergulir, kalimat demi kalimat terjalin panjang membentuk paragraf yang semakin lama beralih menjadi sebuah wacana. Gue mendengar sesekali berbicara, kadang menjelaskan, dia tertawa, dia mendengar dan sesekali mencium. Ciuman tipis minim gestur tapi terlalu menumpuk makna akan maksud dan kausal. Satu ciuman efeknya psikoaktif. Kata berhenti, gerakkan terhambat, endorphin menggelegak dan darah terasa deras mengalir, dan jangan ngeres, nggak deres mengalir ke penis, percaya aja. Gue defensif bukan penolakan, defensif karena pertahanan gue dalam kata, dalam postur, dalam kebanggaan gue sebagai seseorang terlahir lelaki runtuh dihantam sebuah kejujuran. Gue mengutuk topeng, jaimlogy dan tetek bengek munafikisme, ketika gue malu tentu buat apa ditutupi, malu itu kadang berefek apresiasi, kepada orang yang kalian sayang, bahwa mereka punya efek besar buat kalian.

Orang memandang pedas, beberapa getir tertahan, dan sedikitnya agak mau tahu. Tindakan dia bukan hal yang bisa gue balas dengan tindakan, mungkin bisa, dan mungkin seri. Tapi bukan itu, gue mengincar hook kiri setajam silet ketika dia lengah terlalu lebar mengambil straight, cross counter pamungkas Hollyfied yang menjatuhkan De La Hoya beberapa tahun lampau di Caesar Pallace. Itu. Gue bercerita sedikit, twist mengelak yang bermaksud sad ending tapi mengarah lain. Dia terpancing dan kalimat yang sejujurnya membuat lidah gue kelu beberapa saat akhirnya keluar.

*Blam*

Dijawab deh.

The End.

Kidding.

But Seriously.

Naaaaa aa…

Gue memandang dia, dalam diam, khusyuk. Berusaha mengabadikan momen-momen itu sebagai hal manis yang nggak akan gue lupa, sebagai senjata sakti yang bisa melupakan tetes-tetes amarah gue di masa nanti, bahwa, gue pernah melihat perempuan yang begitu manisnya sampai Americano gue berasa dicemplungin lima sendok gula, dan gue baru saja memenangkan hati perempuan ini. Nggak mudah, banyak yang harus dibayar, banyak yang harus ditebus, dan dikorbankan, tapi setimpal dan malah surplus.

“Pulang yuk.”

I love you, it’s a dot.

Kek ngangkut satu beruang bercula, gw naik motor menyisir daerah Gubeng—nyusul Hani dari stasiun setelah sedikit tumpah-tumpahan testosteron vs estrogen demi mutusin siapa yang bonceng siapa. As I expect—gw yang menang, secara Bonek Surabaya ga bisa dilawan pendatang. Dengan badan dan kepala yang ringan, gw bonceng Hani nyari makan. Berhubung ga pernah melanglang daerah Gubeng di malem hari dan ga hapal tempat makan mana yang yahud, cuz aja-lah ke Coffee Corner Surabaya. Jelas venuenya dapet, makanannya ga kalah asik, dan yang terutama—kopi. Pinginnya sih, bikinin Espresso Triple Shoot dengan tangan sendiri, tapi masuk CC—gw langsung disapa Dimas. Dengan nada yang agak ‘ehem’ dia nunjuk Hani sambil tanya, “Masnya Nanda ya?” blabla, gw cipok pipi kanan-kiri Dimas dan langsung cabut ke upstair. Request dari Hani, akhirnya kami milih beranda atas yang langsung ngadep ke depan sungai, disapa barista-barista baru yang gw lupa siapa aja namanya—iye, gw bangkotan abitch.

Ngerasa jadi tuan rumah dan hapal menu di luar kepala, gw pesen 1 Café Mocha (buat gw sendiri), 1 Hot Americano dan 1 Hot Cappuchino Viena (buat Hani). Ga tega nyekokin minuman ajib espresso Triple Shoot, takut khasiatnya yang terbukti bisa bikin kencing gw dan seluruh interior toilet bau kopi 2 hari, gw ambil jalan aman—pesan makanan buat Hani (yang secara mengejutkan ternyata suka makanan kambing = Cap Cay Goreng) dan French Fries. Untungnya Surabaya ga lagi galak dengan suhunya yang ekstrim, gw lepas jaket, dan di situlah awal mula Hani minta ijin buat ngerokok. Dalam hati, gw ngerasa kalah lagi—dulu sama Azmi gw kalah lawan Arema, sekarang sama Hani gw kalah lawan Wismilak. Tapi balik lagii, gw siapaaaa larang-larang anak orang bunuh diri. Yawda deh, gw biarin tuh mulut mengepul kek cerobong asep, sekali dua kali gw sindir tapi karena si Hani ga kejeduk blas yawda tuh rokok mengepul terus sampe wafat sendiri.

Terus, ya… hmm, pesanan dateng. Satu persatu, mulai dari Vienna, Americano dan endingnya Mocca. Lucunya pas tangan udah kebelet nyeruput Mocca—my most favourite coffee—tangan ga sadar ngaminin otak yang bilang, ‘Save the best for him’ dan ujug-ujug malah ngeraih cangkir Vienna. Yaudin, bakat SPG lagi muncrat, gw rayu dia nyoba Mocca. Sebenernya tau sih kalo si Hani ga terlalu suka kopi manis, apalagi yang ditambahin susu. Dan apa yang diharapkan dari Café Mocca? Manislah, pake coklat pula. Tapi keknya Hani ga tega kalo nolak sodoran gw, disruputlah itu cairan. Dan ada senyum kikuk yang manis bin bikin meleleh waktu dia tandasin hampir separuh cangkir Mocca. Nah dipecut leather fetish Sadomasokist, atau tiba-tiba kesambet jin janda bunting, gw melting dan tergerak buat ngerapat ke wajah dia. Deket, makin deket, maakk deket banget dan blar! Taulah. Saya menghamili anak orang.

Apa ya, ga tau malu? Cewek gampangan? Penghilang keperjakaan? Nggak lah Ya Allah Ya Gaffar Ya Gofur. Tapi emang kalo diflashback sekarang—inget-inget lagi apa kedongoan yang pernah gw lakuin—gw malu #telaaattt. Tapi ya gimana dong? Mukanya si Hani itu ya, kalo dibuat role-play, bibirnya kek merapal mantera apa gitu yang bikin gw kesengsem, dan pipinya yang jadi korban bully berbagai sun dengan beragam pose dan kelembapan. Dan tebak, setiap kali gw cium, si Hani malah sendekapin tangan dan mundurin kursi. Kalo di Lie To Me itu artinya bukti ketidak-percayaan diri atas kata-katanya sendiri,… emang dia ngomong apa? Paling cuma “Humm..” doang setiap bibir gw cari landasan mendarat. Arga, barista #8 yang gw hapal namanya (gw barista #3 men! Tuwek men! Veteran men!) ngikik kunti di balik station upstair setiap ngeliat gw cium pipi Cubung. Sebodo, gitu juga sama cowok-cowok arisan di meja nomer 23, ato cewek-cewek jablay meja 22. Ini Sabtu, Malam Minggu, dan di samping gw udah duduk cowok yang selama ini cuma bisa gw pisuhin lewat twitter. Ya kenapa nggak sekali-sekali bikin si Hani keabisan gaya di depan publik.

Hauuhh, kok masih segini sih.

Okay, ceritanya, pertanyaan itu diulang lagi. “Semalam ngapain?” dengan pandangan nanar dari balik kacamatanya, si Hani mencoba menstimuli gw buat beberkan soal apa yang terjadi semalam. Dan yah—mau ditanya berapa kali juga gw tetep bingung apa yang terjadi semalam. Gw nangis, iya nangis sejadi-jadinya saat tau dia balik sama mantannya dengan alasan absurd macem, “Terserah dia, aku sudah kebas. Mauku sih jalanin semua semau-gw dan bikin dia lama-lama muak.”. Nah kalo lo jadi gw pas itu, gimana rasanya? Kuping panas, mata pedas. Bisanya si Hani ngebuang perasaan gw demi menjalani hubungan sesampah itu, mana adilnya buat gw? Yah, itulah. Kalo terus-terusan flashback ga kelar-kelar ntar. Intinya, gw bilang ga senaif dan semudah itu buat gw buang-buang nyawa, ga untuk yang kedua kalinya, holly sake. Kecewa iya, sakit iya, kebawa fisik banget. Dan itulah alasan kenapa kemarin gw bener-bener drop down, bukan bunuh diri. Dan dia keknya lega, percaya, dan mulai menikmati kenaifan dia sendiri yang serta merta dateng ke Surabaya demi mastiin gw baik-baik aja. Jujur aja, ada sign kentara yang bisa gw rasakan kalau perasaan Hani benar-benar sebuah cinta. Tapi ga ada harapan, ngingat kalo baru kemarin dia balik sama Alita.

Dan—eh, ternyata gw salah tangkep.

Gimanalah ceritanya gw bingung, si Hani bilang kalo dia dan Alita udah over. He? Iya, over, dan sekarang dia dateng buat me…me…lamar gw #gobskibecandabeutt. Ya intinya gw mendengar azimat itu lagi, something like ‘would you gonna be my girl?’ tapi lupa gimana dia ngucapinnya. Masa setelah enam kali sosor pipi, gw bisa bilang nggak? Dan setelah legalized, ijab qobul, suasana Surabaya mulai dingin lagi. Gw pake jaket lagi, dan semua hot coffee udah mendingin di dalam cangkir. Gw liat jarum jam nunjuk pukul 11 malem. Dan barulah sadar kalo gw dan Hani ditunggu orang rumah! Nyaaakk! Awalnya karena insting kedinginan yang ga tau malu, kebiasaan gw kalo ada cowok di samping pas gw kedinginan, cari-cari kehangatan dari tangannya. Dan yah, itu yang gw lakukan ke telapak tangan yang lebih besar dari punya gw itu. Di antara sela-sela jarinya yang ragu-ragu balas menggenggam, hangatnya tangan si Hani tetep aja bikin nagih. Moar moar moar!!

*bersambung dulu, ngantuk parah*

Gundah soal masa depan bukan milik gw sendiri kan? Yah, mungkin cuma anaknya Bakrie ato menantunya doang yang ga bakal ngerasain gundah kek gini. Dan lucunya, justru saat status kepegawaian udah jelas (tuh SK Rektorat soal Kepegawaian gw udah muncul dan potongan pajakpun membayang di depan mata) gw malah makin gundah, galau. Apa bener nih kerjaan bagus buat masa depan? Mungkin secara finansial iya, ada jaminan pensiun walau secara bulanan ga terlalu banyak. Berapa sih gaji PNS? Banyak sih nggak, mungkin ceperannya yang lumayan, apalagi kalo nama depan gw Gayus dan belakangnya Tambunan. Oke, soal finansial, sebanyak apapun duit ga bakal cukup kalo ga disyukuri, jadi gw skip soal itu. Tapi soal hati? Sampe sekarang gw masih berpikir nih otak yang pernah bikin ortu bangga dgn IP 3,44, TOEFL 568 dan IQ 125 bakal merana seumur hidup kalau cuma gw pake mikir kerjaan ecek-ecek. I mean, lama-lama mungkin semua ilmu gw bakal mangkrak ga kepake karena tempat kerjaan gw ga merluin logika sedahsyat yang bisa gw kasih.

Inilah sumber gundahnya, ladies and gentlement.

Gw ga suka hidup lempeng ala pegawai-pegawai pemkot, walau ga mau juga ngerasain idup dikejar-kejar ninja (baca: tukang kredit). Tapi gw butuh sesuatu, adventure, hal yang bikin keringat gw bercucuran ngerjain tuh soal. Atau ada hasil karya luar biasa yang memerlukan skill dan bakat yang bisa gw banggakan, yang bisa gw tunjukkan ke semua mata. Kalo mau milih, gw lebih suka meluncur di areal konflik atau perbatasan perang, meliput berita dan mati ketembak—dibawa pulang dalam bentuk yang lebih ringkas. Ditangisi mama papa dan mewariskan asuransi jiwa lumayan gede buat papa, mama, Dinda, Tari dan Ilma buat liburan ke New York. Gw ga bangga menyebut kerjaan sekarang, dan pingin sesuatu yang bisa gw banggakan saat ditanya tentang kerjaan. Gw iri sama temen-temen, cowok-cowok sekelas selama SMA yang sekarang bahkan sampe merambah Haiti untuk menyalurkan dana kemanusiaan. Atau paling nggak, ada di kota lain dan hidup menggelandang di bawa kolong cubicle. Atau para pekerja lapangan di pengeboran minyak, pertambangan atau pengadaan energi. Atau justru para Barista keren yang sudah menyajikan kopi-kopi racikannya sampe ke Dubai. Cool abis mereka itu mah!

Itu soal karir.

Belum soal kehidupan berkeluarga yang sakinah mawaddah warrahmah. Blar! Hih! Skip ah, pamali. Yang jelas buat karir, segalanya abu-abu. Entah kenapa gw ngerasa dikibulin sama harapan ortu, yang dulu maksa kuliah di ini-itu-anu karena kerjaannya menjanjikan, bikin bangga, punya gelar dan blabla. Sekarang coba lihat, banyak sarjana pengangguran atau kutu loncat, dan ga sedikit dari mereka yang justru dapet penghidupan dengan cara-cara sederhana yang ga memerlukan titel di belakang nama mereka untuk mendapat upah. Bokis bener kan? Tau gitu buat apa gw kuliah empat tahun, ngerjain skripshit di tengah kemandulan dan ketergantungan infus cuma demi kerjaan yang ga memerlukan SEMUA itu! Dasar-Dasar Jurnalistik, Hukum Media Massa, Riset Komunikasi Pemasaran, semuanya mentah! Ga kepake, buang aja ke laot.

Kenapa ga dari awal gw terjun slurup sepenuh hati ke bisnis Coffee and Culinary? Temen gw ada yang kuliah cuma D-1, teknik mesin, dan karena saking pinternya bikin Rosetta, dia jadi Duta Barista dari Indonesia yang dikirim ke Wina, dan sekarang kerja di Jerman bagian riset mesin brewing kopi. Nyet.

Soal gaji, heuh, yang penting bisa ditabung. Tapi kepuasan idup, harganya mahal men! Lo bisa banggain keluarga dengan jadi PNS, tapi apa lo bangga makan gaji buta tiap hari, ngendon depan kompi di kantor, di dalem ruangan ber-AC, makan, nggosip dan pulang? Otak gw berkarat...

Aneh ya, kalo denger lagu Bondan yang ini, gw ngerasa semua yang gw dapat ini masih belum sejumputpun nikmatnya dibanding yang gw idam-idamkan. Thanks buat Bondan Prakoso buat lagu keren ini. Well, listen this dude!



Hidup Berawal Dari Mimpi
By : Bondan Prakoso

yo’ kujelang matahari dengan segelas teh panas
di pagi ini ku bebas, karna nggak ada kelas
di ruang mata ini kamar ini srasa luas
letih dan lelah juga, lambat lambat terkuras

teh sudah habis, kerongkongan ku pun puas
mulai ku tulis semua kehidupan di kertas
hari hari yang keras, kisah cinta yang pedas
perasaan yang was was, dan gerakku yang terbatas

tinta yang keluar dari dalam pena
berirama dengan apa yang kurasa
dalam hati ini ingin kuubah semua
kehidupan monoton penuh luka putus asa

Reff
tinggalkanlah gengsi, hidup berawal dari mimpi
gantungkan yang tinggi, agar semua terjadi
rasakan semua, peduli ‘tuk ironi tragedi
senang bahagia, hingga kelak kau mati

yo’ yo’ dunia memang tak selebar daun kelor
akal dan pikiran ku pun tak selamanya kotor
membuka mata hati demi sebuah cita-cita
mlangkah pasti, pena dan tinta berbicara

tetapkan pilihan tuk satu kemungkinan
sbagai bintang hiburan, dan terus melayang
tak heran ragaku, terbalut lebel mewah
cerminan seorang raja dalam crita Cinderella

ini bukan mimpi atau halusinasi
sebuah anugerah yang akan ku nikmati nanti
hasil kerja keras ku terbayarkan lunas.. tuntas..
melakoni jati diri sampe puas

Reff, hingga kelak kau mati..

akh.. jack.. one two yo’
jalan sedikit tersungkur terjungkir terbalik
mlangkah menuju titik, lakukan yang terbaik
ku ketatkan tekad dan niat agar melesat
sperti rudal squad, mimpiku kan kudapat

mencari tepuk tangan atas karya keringatku
bukan satu yang ingin aku tuju
naik ke’atas pentas, agar orang puas
dapat applause, cek atau pun uang kertas

yo’ cari sensasi ataupun kontroversi “uh-oh”
bukan caraku agar hidupku rekonstruksi
dari mimpi semua hal dapat terjadi
maka lemparkan sayap dan terbanglah yang tinggi

http://www.4shared.com/audio/EfI26799/Bondan_Prakoso_-_Hidup_Berawal.htm -- MP3 Download (Sorry ini kenapeu sama blogspot anging ga bisa nautin link)