Why can't we be?

That morning was cloudy, the sky was so smoky I left my heart in the envelop you gave me. Then we haven’t talked for weeks, and it felt like centuries. I don’t even remember now the sound of your voice, and it feels like eternity. I hate that you sing, I hate that you write countless poetries. It is not me that you spoiled, no longer me that you pleased. Here I become the flame, to the fire I lit inside my brain.
I still feel like touching you, grab you by the hand, take you home with me or I with you together we ran. Midnight burger after your show - I never once enjoyed. I wished you to just whisper calmly to my sleep.  Those days seem far, don’t know where we are in this world, you are far behind, I am fall apart. With you I was merry, with you I was teary. So why can’t we be?

Note to myself when it's done.

These past years I have been having this talk with my best friend about the meaning of my life. Why am I here? Why do I feel useless all the time? Have I been doing things that make this world a better place to live? Or have I become an ignorance grown up instead?
I wake up each morning, having my daily breakfast with bread and coffee, then go to work. I do what I have to do, being busy all day, getting all chatty with colleagues, sometimes I jog, sometimes I hang out and have some drinks with friends, sometimes I go straight home out of exhaustion, and most of the time.. I feel nothing. I help none, I make zero effort to make this world a better place to live. It makes me feel so worthless, hopeless, and sad. My life has no meaning, and when I die, I die for nothing.
Death is a friend of mine, I think about it all the time. It used to scared the shit out of me at first, but I started to get used to the idea of stop living. It somehow can sound better than anything mundane I could…

When the hearts break, and forgiveness is cheap.

This has been such a devastating week, I feel like I lose all my balance, my strength, my hope, all the courage I have in me suddenly disappeared in the face of domestic violence. It's real, it's sickening, and it's right in front of me.
It is much different and way much worse than you imagine it could be. Who needs love when it hurts more than it pleases? Who needs love when all it offers is fear? Who needs love when all it can cause is pain? And above all, you cannot call it love when what is shown is far from the act of love.
I went all weak, I couldn't sleep, I feel anxious all the time. My heart beats really fast knowing a monster lives around my family, and my family allows him to. You simply cannot cure a person when the person does not want to be cured. I may have never been in her shoes, but I saw what I saw, with my own eyes, and nothing about it can be justified as the right act. I said, nothing.
I wish I could put into words what I have in mind, my mind is…

I'm floating.

Have you ever felt like you're floating?
Have you been losing grip with yourself?
Knowing me as a self, yet why do I feel like scattered pieces?
I got to visit the place I once hung with my friends back in 2012. That moment, I just recently broke up with my boyfriend when I met him. We hung out a couple of times 'til he went back to States and a year after, I left to Russia.

It's been 6 years since that day; I have finished both of my degrees, had gotten back then broken up again with my ex-boyfriend, dated 2 guys that also didn't last, been single for almost 3 years and still having a hard time finding my real crush, I now have a settle job, still feeling so unaccomplished as a person, still trying to find my true calling, trying to give my life meaning while I get drown each passing day with work - at the same time thinking about applying for school next year, and above all.. I often spend my time now trying to find myself I left somewhere I don't remember. As it f…

To cope with the non existence.

I was probably 15, when I left Oma's home crying on my ojek while we waved each other goodbye.
Since my family moved to Jakarta in 1998, I had always spent my Saturday at Oma's home. It had become Oma's day, so I didn't really have the history of Saturday night out, since Saturday for me has always been big family day.
During elementary school. My school was just a few steps away from Oma's home. When I spent the night at hers, which rarely happened, my friend used to pick me up in the morning as we later walked together to school. No rush, I had never come late to school back in the days. Especially when I slept at hers, I had to wake up early cause Oma's breakfast was not a regular one. I usually had cinnamon bread with a glass of milk - and you should know, it has never been easy to finish a glass of plain milk in the morning. But then, Oma's rules was Oma's rules, couldn't leave the house before I finish my milk, otherwise I had to promise her …

Last Wednesday.

Wednesday has always been the busiest day of the week. I have three classes from 7.30 to 15.00, which most of the time followed by another meeting after 15.30 - who am I? I often wonder. How can I get so busy like this, yet I am far to feel important. HAHA! Well that's, pretty accurate.
Last Wednesday, I spent my lunch time talking to students from three different departments in my faculty; public policy, sociology, and communication. One of them is a girl - the one from communication. We were discussing about the student orientation that is about to be held in August. I know, still few months away yet final exam is coming in weeks, as well as Ramadan. So we better get everything ready before that. I tried to keep it as effective and quick as possible, since I was so exhausted for waking up way too early two days in a row, and plus, we still have a bigger meeting later that afternoon with the whole team at 15.30 so the decision was rational. We wrapped up at 13.00 which made the …

“I’m in the ruins too."

Today was long, and didn’t go quite like how I planned it. Oh but really, like it ever did. I’ve been listening to Snow Patrol’s new albumWildnesslately. I love it! It’s like going back to the old Chasing Cars era again. Been stuck with What If This Is All the Love You Ever Get?And it breaks my heart a little. I really love the idea of making a music video in the middle of the ocean, playing sad heartbreaking song as if it was possible to change the past.
It was Friday night, I was lying on my brother’s bed listening to some music from youtube. As I lied down, I was suddenly reminded of some old songs written about me. You know who you are, and I know you know what I’m talking about.
I still remember vividly how people used to make fun of me through those songs and the countless poetries that followed. I remember I had become one heartless bitch by yelling at him for doing so. While honestly, I loved the poetries, and although I don’t really like all the songs, but I loved the lyrics,…