Today, I Remember Something That I Used To Hold On To Years Ago. You See, Growing Up I Used To Get Sick

Today, i remember something that i used to hold on to years ago. You see, growing up i used to get sick a lot. Toothache, pneumonia, appendicitis and all that. For a child it was a big deal. Each time when im in pain, i cried i cried i cried. Until im tired because i never get used to the pain. Even now when im 21 of age. Im tired to feeling in pain and i couldnt get used to its painfullness of pain. Its like everytime you are in pain it became youre first time, the pain is unchangingly painful. And amidst all this i always thought the worst thing but i never said it to my parents. Its like i always taught myself to be fearless even in times of hardship when all i really want is someone to held me close. Thoughts like will i ever heal? will this be my last day living? will this continue forever? what if i have to live with this pain for the rest of my life? Am i dying? But funny thing is i was never thought i could really die. And somehow when i was thinking of all that, the pain became a little dulled. Maybe it was because i overwhelmed by worried that my focus has shifted from feeling the physical pain to worrying it only in my head. Skidip skidip skidipap and then i arrived at the thought that maybe this is all temporary. There will be times when it's over right? That my wounds will heal, the bleeding will stop, the virus will dead, the fever will cool down, the meds will work its way, and the pain will go away. It cant always going on like never ending road. There must be the end. And that my friends is the moment where i began to think of how i would heal. Making different scenarios of how to get healthy again. Try noticing the distinction between the pain today and yesterday. Try to eat diligently. Try to fight rather just wallow in pain and defeated.

Right now in 21 years of living, i missed having that thought. Lately, i do give in easily because i tired of trying. Like im bored of trying. And that's a problem.

Depok, 21 of june 2020.

Third month of quarantine.

On Early Morning and McDonalds

There is something magical about early morning. To me its fresh wind and spurt of color slowly seeping in the sky is like a revival. And it left me awestruck. Sometimes i just sat or stand still, almost like trying to absorb every aspect of the moment and its magic then spreading it to entire cells of my body. Breath life into it.

Throughout my college years, it is a habit to spend the night in McDonalds. First, it was just because we got bored and we felt stuck working on our assignments in dorms. So we were searching for a nearby place where we can get free wifi, electricity and places that opened 24 hour. Why 24 hour? Because when we working on assignments it will take hours. Courtesy to our procrastination skills, difficult subject, lots of reading and journals searching and just writing general.

And why McDonalds? First of all, there's no study place, public library or working space that available 24 hours in this area. Or this country for that matters. And second, we like to eat. You know thinking requires energy and energy comes from foods. Or we just happened to enjoy eat so much.

But later in time, it become a habit to be in McDonalds from afternoon until the morning. Sometimes we do study, group project, just hangout and gossiping and telling stories till we get too sleepy or just because McDonalds held a GoPay Payday. And just like the victim of consumption culture shaped by capitalist economy we are, we rushed there and spend our money (or the electronic one) for hours.

Therefore my magical morning most of the time is spend and experienced in McDonalds or its parking lot to be exact. A little bit ironic isnt it to feel such magical moment in very common building that holds nothing magical in its historic sense apart from its capability to damage our environment by its mode of production and we still very much love its foods. As if we turn blind under a spell, that sounds like what a magic do to me.

"What happened?" The heart whispered.

"Nothing," answered the universe. "I don't know."

I have a habit, everytime life slams me down I running here. Writing out my feelings and let it untangle out of me like letting the toxin out of my body. Maybe here is because i have no audience. Most of the time, I write only for myself. Though right here the sound of my words always came out echoing because of it's absence of witnesses. Sometimes it's liberating, sometimes it's frustrating.

It's hard being honest for myself and even harder to those around me. All this time, i try to make sense of my fear. And always came back fearful. The thing i learn about fear is that even if you know how it came, why it exist in you and how you shall end it, it always goes back around to the feeling of fear itself. It always presents as a never ending cycle. I guess all the time, education, friends and everything did nothing to my process of came out of the state of fear. I always know it's not about a sudden leap of bravery. Being brave and freeing yourself from fear is different although it's always hand in hand, heavily linked to each other. Why i dread the thought of really present myself, my one true self with all my condition into my world? I do know. I dont know. The answer is a blur. Sometimes, i would just hope that someone, anyone would be able to pull me out of the water. Im tired of drowning. Alone. But i know better that it's not going to work that way. But, im tired, im tired, im tired. Tired to be so fearful, tired to have to worry everything, tired to always want everthing i shouldnt, tired to always hide, tired to always thinking the solution, tired to always compete to survive, tired of having no one to talks about this, tired to thinking im facing this alone, tired of wanting to live like them when i know im not born that way, tired of pretending like them, tired of how shameful i am, tired of not fighting back, tired of how i always worry everyone, tired of their expectation of me, tired of my expectation on myself. im tired of being myself. I am.

It's the moment i always thought why people like me be bother and even encourage to dream big, to pursue everything when its easier to live whatever it is thrown my way? People like me dont have that much choices dont we? I dont know why i write this. I dont know.

Ke Senayan

23 September 2019. Sehari sebelum RKUHP dan segala UU ngawur lainnya disahkan, aku berada di kamar kos. Memperhatikan dan memantau teman-temanku yang turun ke jalan lewat timeline. Sempat terbersit di pikiranku, "ah sudahlah, mari kita ikut ke Senayan!" Namun aku sadar. Di detik berikutnya aku mendengar suara kecil di belakang, "memang kamu punya uang ke sana?" Seketika piring bekas mi instan itu seperti mengolok-olok ke arahku. Menghantam dengan lelucon bernama realita hidup yang hingga detik ini kujalani.

Aku teringat ibu di rumah. Yang beberapa hari lalu mengirimkan pesan singkat padaku. Menanyakan kabar yang kujawab singkat dan dengan singkat pula komunikasi itu berakhir. Tanpa tedeng aling-aling. Tanpa ada pertanyaan basa-basi. Tanpa ada ucapan yang ternyata aku tunggu keluarnya dari ketikan ibu. Mungkin jika aku turun ke jalan dan terseok sampai Senayan ibuku tidak akan tahu. Persis seperti perasaanku yang hingga tahun ke-21 hanya teredam bersama raga yang kabur ke Ibukota.

Mari kembali ke persoalan utama, pikiranku berkontemplasi mengenai apakah aku perlu ke Senayan. Dari timeline telah kulihat banyak mahasiswa kampusku yang berdiri teguh dan berorasi dengan berapi-api. Masih perlukah aku ke Senayan? Jika mahasiswa-mahasiswa sudah merelakan pendidikannya untuk mengetukkan kewarasan pada mereka yang bernama Dewan. Jika para aktivis telah duduk dan tidur dan orasi dan marah serta kecewa di depan Senayan?

Masih perlukah aku ke Senayan? Jika aku hanya ingin mempunyai jawaban atas pertanyaan, "dimana kamu pada 23 September 2019 saat Reformasi tengah dikorupsi?" Yang mungkin saja akan ditanyakan oleh anak cucuku? Tentu saja dengan catatan jika Bumi masih dapat menampung peradaban manusia 50 tahun lagi.

Jika aku ketinggalan informasi mengenai pasal berapa dan apa implikasinya pada kehidupan Demokrasi Indonesia, apakah aku masih perlu ke Senayan? Jika akhir-akhir ini kesadaranku hanya berputar dan berputar pada tugas yang masih aku pertanyakan relevansinya, bukankah aku seharusnya lebih mencermati dan memelototi pasal-pasal itu? Justru aku berada di kamar ini, di depan laptop yang sudah kelelahan menemani aku melakukan pembataian terhadap otakku sendiri.

Masih perlukah aku ke Senayan jika Senayan sudah tidak diperlukan lagi? Isi Senayan hanya angin kotor dan asap berdebu yang tidak bisa mereka selesaikan sendiri.

There is something seriously wrong about still being up (and very much against my will) at 3 in the morning because you've woken up from your 2 hours of sleep. You thought by sleep early you will get up in the morning unlike these past couple days but the universe is really a bitch because you find yourself woken up just a minute before midnight. And to top it all of you get a freaky headache and it intensify by the way of Kundera's writing in the Unbearable Lightness of Being. You predict you'll get sleep eventually by reading it while Phoebe chanting in the background but the truth couldn't be more far from the expectation because the shit show in my head just get more intense by the minute and i am very much aware that it annoys me. All i want is just get back to sleep again please brain give me a break.