contemplation

Aku (Sempat) Lupa Bagaimana Caranya Bersyukur

3:05 AM


Aku baru saja men-stalk akun twitter salah satu teman yang kukenal dari internet. Tidak sengaja sebenarnya, karena aku menemukan akunnya saat melihat-lihat tweet orang lain.

(Iya, aku masih bermain twitter. Iya, kadang aku suka stalking orang di internet. Maaf telah mengecewakanmu.)

Aku men-scroll profilnya dan membaca tweet-tweetnya. Tak sengaja aku menemukan tweet di mana dia mengingat kembali kematian ibunya setahun yang lalu.

Aku terkejut.
Aku terkejut karena sebelumnya aku sudah tahu bahwa ayahnya telah lama meninggal.
Yang berarti sekarang, sejak tahun lalu, dia tidak punya orang tua.
Kedua orang tuanya sudah tiada, meninggalkan dia yang masih duduk di bangku kuliah.

Aku tidak tahu apakah dia punya adik atau kakak, tapi dia tidak pernah mengunggah sesuatu yang menunjukkan bahwa ia punya saudara kandung. Mengingat dia adalah seorang ekstrovert dan lebih ke feeler daripada thinker, aku rasa dia pasti akan menunjukkan pada dunia maya tentang kehidupannya. Atau mungkin dia hanya tidak mau menunjukkan hal itu di media sosialnya, aku tidak tahu. Kami tidaklah sedekat itu untuk membicarakan hal-hal yang mendalam.

Mengetahui kondisinya yang seperti itu membuatku berpikir betapa tidak bersyukurnya aku atas keadaanku. Aku beruntung masih bisa memiliki keluarga yang utuh. Sedangkan dia telah kehilangan kedua orangtuanya, sumber kehangatan keluarga. Aku sudah terbiasa dengan cerita beberapa temanku yang hanya dibesarkan oleh salah satu orang tuanya, tetapi menjadi anak yatim piatu (dan aku asumsikan dia tidak punya seorang kakak yang sudah mapan)  di usianya yang masih menempuh pendidikan di perguruan tinggi adalah hal lain.

Pastilah sulit baginya untuk menerima kenyataan bahwa ia tidak akan pernah bisa lagi pulang ke kampung halaman dengan disambut oleh orang tuanya. Sangat sulit baginya untuk menyadari bahwa orang tuanya tidak akan datang ke acara wisudanya saat ia lulus nanti. Perasaannya pastilah campur aduk, I mean, dia sudah berjuang sekuat tenaga untuk dapat diterima di salah satu kampus ternama di negeri ini, di jurusan yang sangat ketat pula persaingannya. Dia sudah membuktikan kepada semua orang bahwa dia bisa kuliah di sini, di jurusan yang dia idam-idamkan meski sangat sulit masuk ke sana karena kuotanya yang memang sedikit sekali. Dia bahkan rela mengorbankan satu tahunnya setelah lulus SMA untuk belajar khusus untuk mengejar jurusan itu.

Banyak hal yang telah ia korbankan demi dapat meraih mimpi, mengejar cita-cita lewat pendidikan yang lebih tinggi. Pastilah ia berharap dapat membuat bangga ibunya saat ia lulus nanti. Pastilah dulu dia berandai-andai bagaimana saat wisuda nanti ibunya akan datang dari kampung, membawa bunga dan memeluknya, menangis bahagia dan berseru dalam hati, "Anakku lulus dari UI!"

Namun sayangnya, hal itu tidak akan pernah terjadi karena ibunya sudah lebih dulu pergi ke tempat yang lebih indah dari dunia ini.

Sejak tahun lalu, dia harus menerima kenyataan yang pahit ini: bahwa tidak ada lagi orang tua aslinya yang dapat ia buat bangga saat lulus nanti, setelah semua pengorbanan yang ia lakukan untuk dapat meraih jurusan impiannya yang sekarang menjadi kenyataan. Ia tidak akan bisa melihat air muka bahagia orang tuanya saat menghadiri acara wisudanya. Sudah banyak pengorbanan yang ia lakukan, kenapa Tuhan begitu tega mengambil apa yang ingin sekali ia banggakan?

But I'm telling you, D, if you are reading this, Tuhan punya rencana. Gue emang gak mengenal lo secara mendalam, toh kita kenal dari internet, tapi gue percaya bahwa segala sesuatu yang terjadi dalam hidup kita itu sudah direncanakan Tuhan. Bukan, bukan rencana untuk membuat lo hancur, tapi rencana yang baik, saking baiknya kita sendiri gak bisa ngebayangin, bahkan nebak aja gak bisa. Memang menyakitkan, memang menyedihkan, tapi ini bukan akhir dari segalanya. Percayalah, suatu saat nanti Tuhan sendiri yang akan membalikkan keadaanmu yang sekarang dengan kebahagiaan yang berlipat ganda, jika kamu tetap setia kepada-Nya dalam segala  kesesakan dan kesukaanmu.

Ini menjadi refleksi bagiku juga untuk tetap bersyukur atas apa yang aku punya. Aku masih punya kedua orang tuaku, meski hidup keluarga kami pas-pasan untuk ukuran orang yang tinggal di kota. Tapi Tuhan selalu menolong kami setiap kami butuh pertolongan. Banyak hal yang terjadi dalam keluargaku, kami semua diuji untuk tetap bertahan meski dalam kondisi sulit, meski banyak air mata dan sakit hati dan amarah. Tetapi Tuhan masih memelihara kami, karena kami tidak dibiarkan jatuh sepenuhnya. Pada akhirnya, hanya tangan Tuhanlah yang menolong kami keluar dari kesulitan kami.

Aku masih punya keluarga yang mengasihiku, walaupun tidak selalu dalam cara yang kuinginkan. Tetapi mereka tetap keluargaku. Mereka mengasihiku. Mereka masih hidup, utuh, setidaknya sampai saat ini. Seringkali aku bertingkah seenaknya, sometimes I take my parents for granted. Aku masih egois, namun aku masih tetap belajar untuk menurunkan egoku.

Aku juga sering kali buta akan keadaan orang lain, mungkin karena sifat egoisku juga. Aku merasa yang paling sedih, yang paling sakit dibanding orang-orang sekitarku, padahal aku tidak tahu permasalahan apa yang sedang mereka hadapi. Padahal, pasti ada orang-orang yang menanggung beban lebih berat daripada diriku. Kisah temanku D adalah salah satu buktinya. Kita tidak boleh menilai orang dari luarnya saja tanpa mengetahui kisah mereka. Mereka punya cerita sendiri yang membuat mereka menjadi diri mereka yang sekarang. Bukalah mata untuk melihat, telinga untuk mendengar, dan tangan yang terbuka untuk menerima mereka. Dan jangan pernah, jangan pernah, meremehkan apa yang mereka hadapi, karena kita tidak tahu persis bagaimana rasanya menjadi dia. Kau tidak pernah tahu apa yang sedang terjadi pada mereka. Berbuat baiklah, bersimpatilah, berilah dukungan dan berdoalah untuk menolongnya.

Dan D, jangan lupa berdoa ya. Serahkan segala hal mengganggu hati dan pikiranmu kepada-Nya, karena hanya Dia yang bisa mengerti dan menolongmu seutuhnya. Jangan lupa, dalam setiap langkah hidupmu, Tuhan punya rencana yang baik untukmu. Jangan tinggalkan Dia karena tanpa Dia, kita tidak bisa apa-apa. Semangat!

feels

Your Favorite Shade of Gray

2:31 AM


Dear you,

I still remember the moment when you took me to your grandparents's place at the countryside on last holiday. I remember you held my hand tight along the way. Your hand was strong but astonishingly soft and warm. You never let go of my hand and stroked my fingers several times. Every time you did that, I always looked up to you to find you staring right into my eyes softly, and your smile was spreading wide on your face. I thought I could spend my life forever just by looking at you.

We arrived at your grandparents's home and they hugged you tightly. They turned to me and shook my hand enthusiastically, beamed with pleasure. Your grandma was so happy that she almost jumped right into me. You laughed, the most beautiful laugh I've ever heard.

Oh, how I miss hearing that laugh coming out from your mouth.

Every morning you would woke me up and took me outside, to the mountain, to fetch some water. I always enjoyed it, that feeling when the wind blew on my face, tickled my neck that made me shiver a bit. Then you would come and took my hand, led me wander through the dark trees. I challenged you to race to the stream and sometimes you let me win intentionally.

We filled our buckets and then took some rest in a hut not far from the stream. The hut was too high for me that you had to help me to get into it. That day we sat side by side, my hand in yours. I moved my dangled legs back and forth and you stared at the sky. We were waiting for the sunrise.

"What's your favorite color?" I suddenly asked you.
You smiled and said, "That's weird."
"Weird?" I was confused.
"Yeah, you know, we've been together for almost three months but you still don't know about my favorite color," you grinned at me.
I blushed. "Well, you've always been the mysterious one."
"You are totally right about it," you chuckled. "Yours is kind of bluish, isn't it?"
"Is it?" I teased you.
"A mix of blue and green, I bet. In other word, turquoise." you said it calmly.
"How do you know that?"
"Your pupils dilate every time you see that color," you said. I raised my eyebrows. "Kidding," you laughed, "you tend to choose that color every time you buy your things."

My eyes must had widened a bit because I could see your pleasure. "I didn't know you noticed such a small thing," I tried to cover my amazement.
"Only about what I like. Or who," you teased me.
"Like me?" I fluttered.
"Do I like you?" you tried to look like a fool.
"No, you don't. You don't like me. Because if you liked me, I would punch you in the face," I crossed my arms. You laughed again.
"You are right, your ladyship, I don't like you," you said. You didn't say anything for a moment. I bet you did it for a dramatic effect. "I love you."

I was so dumbfounded that I couldn't say anything. You took my hand and pulled me closer.
"There is no pretending. I love you, and I will love you until I die, and if there is life after that, I'll love you then," you quoted Jace Herondale from City of Glass.
I burst out laughing. "Did you just quote?"
"Did I?"
"I didn't know you read The Mortal Instruments! You said you don't like reading books," I laughed harder.
"I only said I do not prefer books. Doesn't mean that I hate it," you smiled.
"Well, boy, you won. I acknowledge it," I said, my cheeks burnt because of laughing.
"I know. Because that's what I do, you know, winning." you said, pompously arrogant.
"How very kind of you," I smiled, and you leaned closer to me and my heart was beating faster..

...and then the roosters began to crow. The sun was about to rise.
"That's it!" you suddenly averted your face.
I was so confused and surprised and a bit disappointed. "What?"
"My favorite color. Look," you pointed at the upstream. I turned to the side he pointed. Then I saw it, up in the sky.
"Gray?" I asked. "You like gray?"
"Not gray, exactly. Right before the sun rises there’s a moment when the whole sky goes this pale nothing color—not really gray but sort of, or sort of white—"
"—and I’ve always really liked it because it reminds me of waiting for something good to happen," I finished it. "You quoted again. I like it."
"Of course you like it, because it's me," you gave me that teasing smile. "I agree with Lena Haloway. I'm in love with this shade of gray."

I watched you staring at the sky as the sun started to rise. The breeze blew your hair, revealing your forehead. "But now it's fading. It's sad that it only lasts for a very short time," I said.
"That's why I adore it. When you realize that something only lasts for a brief time, you will cherish it even more," you smiled softly and then turned to me. "You will be grateful for every chance that are given to you. You won't take it for granted."

In that time I could see a glimpse of sadness and pain in your face. Somehow I thought I saw you in a super excruciating agony. Somehow I just wanted to cry and help you. I wanted to take some of the pain you were carrying on your shoulder.

I know nothing lasts forever. Nothing, even us. That's why you always gave your best in every chance given. That's why you always tried to enjoy your moments; because you didn't know what would happen next. That's why you never squandered anything you got. That's why I adore you, my dear, a lot.

My dear, I love you so much. You know that I was always afraid of you leaving me, but you promised me that you would not do it. That's why I could let you go to any place you want. But this time, I just can't. You failed to keep your promise, my dear, but I know I must get over it.

In this little turquoise box, I keep you safe. I hope you don't mind keep seeing my favorite color that you had guessed correctly on that day. But now it's time to get you out of it. I know you must have been so bored in it.

My dear, I'm so sorry you can't get your favorite gray. I'm sorry that you only got this ash gray.

The roosters start to crow. The tinge of your favorite gray break the sky. I strew your ash into the stream.

feels

Help

6:31 PM



I am standing still in front of my tall mirror. I stare at my reflection from the tip of my head to the tip of my feet.

And then I start crying.

It's not beautiful, though, both of my cry and what I see in front of me. I cry like a mix of a horse and a child whining. It sounds so horrible, but I can't help it. I try so hard, forcing my mouth to keep silent but my throat keeps betraying me. I end up biting my tongue as hard as I can so that no voice is out of my lips. My blood quickly rush through the wound.

And my eyes, my eyes, are no longer can hold my tears. It's like something has wrecked the sluice in my eyes; the tears keep flowing and running down my cheeks. I blink and blink and blink, hoping it can stop the flood, but nothing's changed. I can't stop, I can't, but I really want to.

I can barely breath. My nose filled by snot and mucus, it slowly but surely tortures me. My throat tightened, leaving me gasping, struggling for oxygen. It feels like a giant hand squeeze up my stomach that I almost throw up. I feel so scared, panic, insecure that I sweat so much. I'm afraid my heart is about to explode.

Is it true?
Is it true that pain is beauty?
Is it true?
Is it true that no one cares?

My hair, my face, my body,
what did they do?
Did they do something wrong?

Should I gather all money to afford every single trend?
Should I starve myself for the sake of beauty?
Should I strain myself doing some extreme exercises?
Should I get some surgeries to "fix my face"?

Should I? Should I?
No. I know the answer is no.

Then why do I feel so empty? In this crowded place, why do I feel so distant? Why do I feel so anxious, trying to mingle with these people? Why do I keep worrying about how they see me? Why am I afraid of "being not pretty enough"? Why am I afraid of getting left behind?

Too many why.

I'm sick.
I'm scared.

I take a lipstick on the dresser. It is the lipstick that I bought with all of my allowance. I take it and come back in front of the mirror.
Help, I write.

Then I punch it and punch it, over and over again, until it shatters all around me.
Help, I cry.

feels

Jika Kau Ingin Menangis

5:59 PM


Jika kau ingin menangis,
jangan izinkan orang melihat

Jika kau ingin menangis,
hiruplah napas dalam-dalam
redakan panas yang membara di dadamu
biarlah udara menenangkan gemetarmu

Jika kau ingin menangis,
tutuplah mulutmu rapat-rapat
jangan biarkan sendumu keluar
kencangkan rahangmu
gigitlah bibirmu
biarlah darah mengalir
asal jangan tangis yang mengalir

Jika kau ingin menangis,
kepalkan tanganmu kuat-kuat
biarlah sampai gemetar
biarlah kuku-kuku menancap
biar sakit menahan panasnya mata

Jika kau ingin menangis,
pejamkan mata rapat-rapat
tahan napas
jangan lakukan
jangan biarkan menetes

(karena sudah terlalu banyak yang menetes)

feels

The Unfairness of Your Hydrostatic Pressure

8:57 PM


In Physics I learn about hydrostatic pressure, a pressure that an object gets for being in a certain liquid and at a certain depth. It is equivalent with the density of the liquid, the gravity, and the height of the fluid above the object.

I am the object and you are the liquid; the fate somehow threw me into you. I nudged your surface and you let me come in, swimming through your mysterious fluid. I tend to go deeper and deeper, eager to explore every single side of you. Unfair, I think, that you can shroud the whole me while I am merely touching a little part of you.

But as the physics law about hydrostatic pressure states, the deeper an object goes into the liquid, the greater pressure the object gets. I can sense your pressure against me when I try to swim deeper into you; rejecting me to go further into your life. You tend to keep your walls around you, restraining me from seeing your true self: your soul. A soul that I am sure is utterly beautiful, no matter how damaged you think you are.

This hydrostatic pressure is blocking me from your depth. It suppresses me from every direction, preventing me to find out more about you. Every single part of me is trying to fight it, but sadly, your upward force is much stronger. You push me away from your life; from the depth that I was in to the surface where I am totally just another stranger to you.

Now I am floating in you, not sure if I should try harder to dip into you or just waiting for a miracle to get me taken away. The only thing that I can wish is you aren't able to dissolve any solutes. Because if you are, your density will be increased and so will your pressure against me.

(and so will the distance between me and you).

feels

My Dearest Nucleons

10:42 PM


We are like an alkali atom. You as the nucleus and I as the electron.
You, with the positive charge from the protons.
Me, with all my negativity.

You, still, stick in your place at the center.
Me, spinning on my axis, either clockwise or counter-clockwise, orbiting you.

You, distinctly obvious; your position can be identified precisely.
Me, lost in the clouds; no one would ever know where exactly I am.

The electromagnetic force attracts me to you, but sadly, my dearest nucleons, your nuclear force is much stronger than our bond. You can gather your protons and neutrons all by yourself, while me without you is just an insignificant matter.

Ironic, isn't it, or what do you call it about how easy is our electromagnetic force to get broken down, compared to your nuclear force? How insignificant is losing an electron, compared to ejecting the nucleons? Losing an electron just changes the charge of our atom, while ejecting the nucleons results nuclear decay, transmuting the nucleus, turning our atom into another atom. An electron, at the end, doesn't really matter at all to the nucleons.

Tragic, isn't it, that it takes no energy to get closer to you: in fact, the electron releases some energy to get closer to the nucleus. But it takes an enormous amount of energy for the electron to go farther from the nucleus, especially the one which was so close to it. Unfortunately, I don't have that much energy, while you, still brutally attract me with that electromagnetic force. I have tried, for a million times, crawling out from this force, yet also for a million times I failed miserably.

I am trapped, here, in the clouds of uncertainty, spinning, moving, and orbiting you. I am unstoppable, unpredictable in this bizarre thickness of the probability of quantum mechanic laws. You compulsively imprisone me in this trajectory, just to keep our atom stable rather than really wanting me to stay.

I am tired of all these things, my dearest nucleons. I am sick of repeating my orbit over and over again. I wish someday, a positive ion will get close to us, drawing me away from my obligation to keep orbiting you.

Or better, I wish you will get unstable so I can watch you tearing apart, losing parts of yourself decay, one by one. Because we know, my dearest nucleons, that it's all about stability.

strong

The Carved Heart

8:44 PM


Do you ever feel like your heart is scratched deeply?
That you think the scar(s) will never be mended?

Here, I got a vague idea about this.

The heart is like a special wood that is meant to be carved. We were born with a perfect smooth heart, without any scars. But this heart IS intended to get hurt, just like that wood is intended to be carved. It is inevitable that we have to bear the pain of getting our heart hurt, leaving so many scars according to how many heartbreaks you have suffered.

But hey, that is not the end.

The carves on the wood make it looks beautiful. It looks utterly unprecedented compared to the former plain wood. Every single carve gives an exquisite different style to the wood. The carves, altogether, make a beautiful pattern that transform the wood into something aesthetic in its way.

The scars that hurt your heart are the carves. It does hurt, it does yield pain, but it turns your heart into something beautiful. Every heartbreak that you suffer through leaves a scratch, carving your heart. It was a mark that you are strong enough to endure it.

It is indeed good if you can mend your heart, but we all know that everything takes time. I myself believe that eventually we can mend our heart. But there must be a phase when you have to go on life with those scars.

And then you start to hate yourself for having those scars.
But I'm telling you.

You don't have to be ashamed of your scars. You don't have to hide it every single time. Maybe you think that you can handle it by yourself, but you don't need to. There are some people who really love you, people who accept you as the way you are, the whole you, with all your flaws. People who care about you. People who truly adore you.

Those are the people who can see the beauty of your carved hearts. They understands the meaning of every scars. They see it as a great masterpiece, not as a useless trash. They undoubtedly will stand by your side. And you should not push them away, because you need them. They'll help you to mend your heart.

You don't have to struggle alone, dear.
You deserve to be loved.


Stay strong.
Stay beautiful with the carves.
(someday, I wish, you'll be mended. We mend each other )