Pitiful Clover

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.