in repressing oneself

Was it worth it?

Beating yourself up over and over again?

What’s so hard in giving yourself a break?

For a moment, a brief moment


For a moment where our eyes would meet

For a moment where words left out of our lips

Hanging in the wind

Feeling uncertain, feeling dumb


Was it worth it?

Guilting everyone to keep them away?

Or is it attention that you craved for?

Are you deprived of attention?

Of empty affection?


Isn’t that what you want?

To be unhinged

To be unbothered

Was it worth it hurting yourself

And in turn hurt others along the way?


Oh you’ve had your chances!

You’ve had your time

You let them pass by

‘Til it’s all due

What are you going to do?


Was it worth it?

Sacrificing your happiness

In order to win the brawl?

In order to be in control?


Oh was it really worth it?

To shut it out

To shut it all out

And for what?


You are your own enemy now

Was it worth it?

rose-colored glasses

Scared. That’s the first thing I recognized when I wake up and the last thing that lingers on my mind before I end my day. It came in many forms; sometimes it’s spiders crawling through every inch of my skin. Sometimes, it’s black smoke smothering me from behind, trapped me in a haze. Sometimes, it’s the rope they use to anchor a boat, tighten up around my chest, leaving me gasping for air as I froze in place.

I almost urge myself to flee. Just like what I always did.

Find another distraction, find someone to fill the void, run, run away.

Run away until you trap yourself in the confinement that almost feels like home.

Trap yourself and take the rose-colored glasses.

Take the rose-colored glasses and ignore all the red lights.

Ignore all the red lights because the short span of pleasure makes you feel like you’re alive, and desirable.

Feel desirable until you’re discarded, stripped naked of your worth and lose your sense of independency because you feel nothing’s going to make you feel alive like the short span of pleasure you received while you’re looking to the confinement through rose-colored glasses.

Being discarded, you try to save yourself by seeking another distraction to feel alive. Not forgetting the rose-colored glasses. Not forgetting to not face the fear with fist on the ready. Not forgetting to build up expectations to make you feel driven by something. Not forgetting anything but being kind to yourself.

As days passed, it’s amusing that you’ve found yourself stuck in a quicksand. The harder you tried to resist all the emotion, all the feelings running through your veins, the deeper it devours you.

But it’s just a matter of time before they leave you sinking, taking big chunks of you with them, while you scatter around going back and forth trying to fill the void again, clenching the rose-colored glasses.

Expectations kills you slowly. Remember your worth.

Of Being Lonely

Kamu masih bisa merasa sendiri di suatu ruangan penuh dengan manusia. Kamu bisa tertawa, bahkan berinteraksi dengan keras ketika suatu topik yang kamu sukai muncul ke permukaan. Ketika lagu-lagu yang kamu ketahui tiap lirik dan dentumannya meraung pada stereo, badanmu tergerak. Kanan, lalu kiri, tangan seperti melukis di udara, rambut yang tadinya bersatu dengan aman sekarang terbebas dan menggila. Badan menjadi ringan, kamu merasa hidup.

Pulang dalam rangkulan orang yang namanya saja masih samar-samar untuk diingat, kamu bagaikan buku yang terbuka. Yang penting semua terasa nikmat. Yang penting pada saat itu kamu merasa hidup.

Tidak ada yang bilang bagaimana bangsatnya pukulan palu godam yang tidak terlihat dapat terasa sangat sakit ketika kamu menutup pintu kamar. Tidak ada yang bilang bagaimana susahnya meraup oksigen sampai sampai kamu harus terduduk di ujung kamar, satu tanganmu mengepal dan beristirahat pada dinding, berharap itu bisa menopang badanmu.

Terapismu bilang, 4-8-7. Ambil napas, tahan, keluarkan. Diulang. Ulang terus. Ulang sampai kapan?

Kepalamu berputar tiada henti. Jantungmu terasa seperti ingin loncat, padahal paru-parumu terasa makin berat. Ingin rasanya menabrakkan kepala agar bisa berhenti berputar. Ingin rasanya menggunting telinga untuk menghentikan riuh suara yang berkecamuk. Tapi, apa daya? Ternyata semua suara itu datang dari dalam pikiranmu.

Orang-orang dengan enteng tersenyum dan mengelus pundakmu. “Sudah coba yoga? Atau meditasi? Mindfulness?”

Bagaimana kamu bisa sadar secara penuh ketika mencari ketenangan saja selalu terusik oleh pikiran yang tiada hentinya bergonjang-ganjing seperti badai di bulan Desember? Lalu kamu salahkan itu kepada gelas-gelas alkohol yang ditenggak atau tumpukan bungkus Camel Purple yang sudah kosong. Lalu kamu salahkan itu pada dirimu sendiri.

Bangsat memang, kamu memberi orang-orang disekitarmu perhatian dan fokus penuhmu. Dengan mudah, kamu memberikan seluruh kasih sayang kepada mereka, tapi tidak bisa memberikannya untuk dirimu sendiri. Mencintai semua tapi dirimu sendiri.

Tapi, bagaimana bisa kamu cinta dengan dirimu sendiri? Toh, kamu tahu sendiri seluk beluknya, semua kebusukan, semua kegagalan, semua hal yang seharusnya bisa kamu miliki jika bukan karena kemalasanmu yang selalu kamu sembunyikan dengan alasan “Aku butuh istirahat.”.

Setelah menendang-nendang kursi kerja yang beroda, dan helai demi helai rambut yang dicabut paksa karena tidak bisa berteriak, kamu bergegas mengambil kapas putih. Berdiri di depan kaca, kamu usap wajahmu bebas dari kebohongan-kebohongan untuk menutupi siapa dirimu yang sebenarnya. Kamu menyerah pada kasur, berselimut rasa salah dan kebencian yang anehnya terasa hangat dan nyaman. Seperti sudah dibuat khusus untukmu. Hari besok masih panjang. Kamu harus bersiap untuk berpura-pura hidup lagi. Mencari orang untuk mengisi kekosongan dengan kata-kata yang sebenarnya sama kosongnya.

Tapi tidak apa-apa, setidaknya saat itu kamu merasa dicintai, dan hidupmu tidak menyebalkan-menyebalkan amat.


Don’t get me wrong, I love my bedroom. I could lock myself in and wrapped up under my tan warm blanket that might be older than me. But there’s that. I rarely communicate with my family, only going out whenever I need to have a meal or take a visit to the bathroom. I live with my granny, my aunt and her family, while my own parents and siblings live just outside the city. My aunt is practically my second mother and she has done nothing but making me feel like I’m a part of her family. She even built a room for me in her new house and let me do whatever I wanted with it. It’s just that I can’t help but feeling like an outsider.

I occasionally visit my parents house and spent the weekend there, and then again, I couldn’t shake the fact that I still feel like an outsider. My mom remarried and she has two kids with my stepdad, one just stepped into kindergarten and the other turn 3 this August but he’s already two steps further than me when I was his age. I can no longer fool him whenever I played PlayStation because he can kick an ass or two in Dynasty Warrior, despite blindly punching the buttons. Again, I still feel like an outsider there.

My mother with her new family, my aunt with her own family. I visited my dad on the other side of the city whenever I got the time too, and he already has his own new family. So where do I stand? Where is it when I said I’m going home, when my home doesn’t even feel like home?

I started to partake in a local community that has concern about abusive relationship back at September 2018, and slowly build a new friendship with numerous amazing people from different background who apparently shares the value like mine too.

Being bullied throughout elementary and middle school, while feeling out of place in high school, made me feel more comfortable with the friends I had now. It feels really nice to have someone who listens first, without judging every word you utter. They’ve created an invisible safe bubble for me and unconsciously embrace who I really am and led me learning to accept myself.

Some people told me that I’ve changed to a completely different person, a chatty and outgoing one, whenever I’m out with my friends rather than the person who isolate herself in her room.

I was told multiple times to stop being so “loud” whenever I hang out with my family since I was a little girl and so I did just that. And growing up, they start attacking me with intimidating question on how I lock myself and my life away from them. They ask me why I kept secrets and why I spend more time out rather than with them.

Well, as they all said, a home is where you feel safe, right? Where you felt comfortable, and where can just be yourself. I found a home in my friends. I found a home in how they simultaneously laugh whenever I fell but extend a hand to me and help me up on my feet again. I found a home in every countless rant session at the corner of our favorite coffee shop. I found a home in every shared beers and cigarettes while discussing whatever the hell just happened on Twitter.

I’m as much at home whenever I’m with them.

—to the boy who eats flowers

to the boy who eats flowers,

it is alright
to be not alright
anxiety is a guest
or is it a ghost?

to the boy who eats flowers,

may you find
things you fond
and at last,
happiness that last

to the boy who eats flowers,

meetings to look forward to
i am scared too
but over a cup of coffee
let’s exchange all the jolly

to the boy who eats flowers,

trace every inch
of my skin i flinch
ever so tender
you make it better

to the boy who eats flowers,

your eyes is a sight to see
sadly they don’t know me
but would it be a sin
to be vulnerable and be seen?

to the boy who eats flowers,

i wish i know how to write
just how you hold your camera right
because maybe then you’ll know
i adore you more than you know.

-the games that fate weaved for us

smile so contagious, wrapped in the skin of the storm

thoughtful words beautiful as ever, yet heart as empty as ever

dear beloved,

dear stranger

you talk about love

but trembled in fear when it approaches you

irony, irony

you said irony amuses you

then you drew me in closer

and now,

you’re my irony

contradictions and fate

how can i love with heart full of hate?