Something About Climate Change

I don’t know much about this issue, but I don’t need too much information just to convince myself that climate change is real.

I know it is, since I was nine. It was something about global warming, green house effect, acid rain, pollution and their impacts to environment and human’s life. My natural science book told me so, and my teacher said as it was just in a near future for the world to be in an apocalypse. Those were enough to make my poor little soul insecure. Anxiously, I waited for it to happen.

As years goes by, nothing such an apocalypse really happened. So, I stopped worrying and hold this weird belief that I might’ve dead before the climate change really happens. Turns out, despite of me being such an ignorant, the climate is changing already and it doesn’t need anyone’s belief to keep on happening, until it reaches its worst, then, at last, the world will come to an end.

The thing is, I’ve been a denier my entire life. I should choose, whether, I will stay with my irrational denial like an asshole, or try to, at least, do something that I’m capable of.

So, the decision was made.

I decided to do the latter.    

I started my journey by watching YouTube videos about people who live a sustainable lifestyle. But that wasn’t enough, I read a book titled This Changes Everything by Naomi Klen. Time by time, I changed one behavior at a time, while learning more about this issue by reading and watching news or documentaries.

But, the more I know, the less capable I thought I was. I got even more guilty of every meat I consumed, every unintentional plastic-packaged stuff I own and purchase, every ride I take, and even just being alive in general. The worst was, I hated people for not living a sustainable lifestyle. And when I hate people, I hate myself even more.

I told myself that I need to stop,

and start being forgiving,

to myself.

So, I did.

I’m still trying my best to reduce my impact to environment. The only difference is, I no longer set a too high expectation, pursue perfection, nor judge others. Because I believe, I could do something about the climate change, only if I do take care of my inner self.

What I’ve done for the sake of environment, might not seem that significant. It might be just small changes, such as refusing plastic bags, stop purchasing plastic-packaged stuff, eat more plant-based diet, do more walking than riding my motorbike. There are some days when I feel like in a huge success, and there are other days when I feel like I’ve messed everything up.

But as long as I cherish and forgive myself,

it should be okay,

because only by that,

this journey will last.

Little Women Has Reminded Me of Those Who Matter

As soon as I opened this book, Little Women by Louisa May Alcott, the magic happens. It tells me beautiful phrases I've never read before, it introduces me characters whom I laughed and shed tears with, it conveys messages in a way that warms my little heart.

I should disclaim that I'm not a fan of English classic books. I've read some of them, though, in past few years, but for some reasons, I just couldn't find myself enjoying any of them. Not until today.

I thought it was just something about this book that makes me so into it. But as I read along, this book told me that it was more than just about the beauty of 19th-century-English expressions or the lovely young female characters who wear dresses in daily basis. It reveals something within me that I wasn't even aware of it myself. That, first, I've evolved as a reader. And second, that I miss home.

I miss the hug my mother gives whenever we saw each other in the arrival gate of the airport, I miss the loud welcoming voices of my little rebellious cousins whenever I get into the car to our way home, I miss being bored and lazy all day long with my sister in the newly-air-conditioned room, I miss the silence my grandfather keeps whenever he washes and cuts some fish for dinner, and of course, I miss my father.

For every of his wrinkles and white hair, for every strength he keeps within, as he wishes, someday, to see me become a writer and marry a man who loves reading. Though he's not with me at home, he's always been a home to me wherever he is. 

"Make this home happy, so that you may be fit for homes of your own, if they are offered you, and contented here if they are not. One thing to remember, my girls. Mother is always ready to be your confidant, Father to be your friend, and both of us hope and trust our daughters, whether married or single, will be the pride and comfort of our lives (page 150)." 

This book follows four siblings who evolves as better sisters, daughters and friends as the story goes. I read aloud some paragraphs, as I get more immersed by the story. I was one of the players in a game they play, talked to strangers with the same insecurity as they feel, or simply was in their house, as if I was the fifth sibling.

There was this chapter which follows Jo, the second eldest, who was mad at Amy, the youngest, but at last, she gave the little sister her sincere forgiveness. This resonates with me as it reminded me of the past, that I disliked my sister and wished for bad things for her, that I was such a little thing full of hatred, that I was no way close to be forgiving nor brave enough to admit my fault. I couldn't help but cry as I flip through the pages.

"I let the sun go down on my anger. I wouldn't forgive her, and today, if it hadn't been for Laurie, it might have been too late! How could I be so wicked?" softly stroking the wet hair scattered on the pillow.

As if she heard, Amy opened her eyes and held out her arms, with a smile that went straight to Jo's heart. Neither said by word, they hugged one another close, in spite of the blankets, and everything was forgiven and forgotten in one hearty kiss (page 126). 

There are just so many pure little things written carefully and genuinely in this book, including the love of a grandfather to his granddaughter. I've never been so close to my own grandfather. He's a man of few words. He works despite of his age, he amuses himself by watching news on television, he cooks his own food that sometimes he burns the kitchen. In his silence, during most of the nights when I'm home, he texts my mother to bring me and my sister, to come over for dinner in his house.

"Malam ke rumah. Ada haruan. Bawai kekanakan," he texted.

That was short and that's just how he shows his affection to his granddaughters. I didn't remember having days when I was hugged nor kissed by him when I was little, as it is the scene in this book, but I do know that he does love his granddaughters, by the few words he speaks.
 

And was so touched by that confiding little kiss that all his crustiness vanished, and he just set her on his knee and laid his wrinkled neck against her rosy one, feeling as if he had got his own little granddaughter back again. Beth ceased to fear him from that moment, and sat there talking to him as cozily as if she had known him all her life, for love casts out fear and gratitude can conquer pride (page 89).

I haven't even finished reading this book. I'm still 500ish pages away from the end, but there are so many things already that I couldn't keep it myself. Maybe, once I've finished this, I'll come back here and tell you how my little heart has felt over the entire book.

As what this book has reminded me of, for the new year, I probably should be a more loving person, because no one could survive the cold and harsh world without the warmth and the comfort of love from those who matter. 

Things He Told Me About Death

This morning, I jogged in a field not far from my kos. Most of the joggers are in their late 30s. Some are 40s. Very few of them are above 50s. 

One of the elderlies caught my attention. He walked, seemed so careful of his steps and stopped for a while on the side of the field, before walking for another few steps. 

The view made me wonder.      

Will I live long enough to be that slow? 

No one answers, because no one knows. 

What if I don’t? 

What if I die in, like.. five minutes?

Turns out, I was still alive.

But, if I do, I’ll just have to wait until it comes, won’t I?

Death is so close yet so far. So close that it scares me all the time. So far that I’m being ignorant of the fact that I might die anytime soon. Despite of how I feel about death, it’s the only thing that I know about my future. 

In that matter, He sent me a guide about how to not die misserably, one of them is:

“And spend [in the way of Allah] from what We have provided you before death approaches one of you..”

Once I die, He told me through the guide, that I might regret for not doing enough good. I might willing to go back to where I am now. I might ask for the help of my relatives, but none of them will give a shit. They’ll be busy with their own matter, as I deal with my own. I will be punished for what I have and haven’t done, and spend my eternal life being punished.  

“But don’t worry,” He added.

The good news is, any kind of good deeds will be paid off. Every single of them. I will be rewarded and spend my eternal life being rewarded. 

Thus, He said, there’s no point of being too anxious nor too excited over the live I life today, because it all will come to an end after all. 

“And this worldly life is not but diversion and amusement. And indeed, the home of the Hereafter – that is the [eternal] life, if only they knew.”    

Since I finished reading the guide, I become less scared yet less ignorant of death, because I know my to-dos and not-to-dos. I might die in five minutes, I might die in my 50s. But, as long as I put my belief in His words, there’s indeed nothing to worry about. 

30 Things I Learnt From Finishing My 100 Pages Idea Book in (Almost) A Year: WIP Update #3

1. It took me the entire 10 months to think about at least 20 different ideas that have no depth at all.
2. It took me only 26 days to dig into one focused idea. 
3. I don't do tables. 
4. I do graphs. 
5. I draw rough sketches.
6. I don't need a neat hand-writing. 
7. I forget what I wrote.
8. I need to re-read (like.. thousand times) to go deep. 
9. I never really running out of ideas.  
10. I'm a hard-core plotter.
11. I outline better with a wooden pencil.
12. I don't do word count goals. 
13. I do focus-on-the-goddamn-idea goals.
14. Writing made me have nightmares. 
15. Writing made me cry.  
16. Writing 24/7 is not healthy.
17. My brain doesn't work at night. 
18. Coffee is a life savior. 
19. Coffee stops period!
20. Watching other writers' struggle helps.
21. Sharing to other writers about my struggle helps. 
22. Sharing to non-writers about my struggle increases anxiety. 
23. The 15-minutes-deep-work method works.
24. I don't need music. 
25. I need a raiforest background music.
26. I don't write in public. 
27. OneNote is better than Word (for though-dumping).
28. I say out loud ideas when I have too much of them.
29. When in public, I pretend like I'm on the phone, to record ideas. 
30. Imitating the writing structure of best-seller helps (a lot!).

Letting Her Go

I've been in a battle. 

Turns out, it's never been really a battle. 

It was just her, demanding my attention. 

Once I granted her request, 

she did leave for good. 

It was that simple.

But for some reasons, 

I couldn't see it back then. 

Another Home 2

She spent another five years living in Another Home. She wasn't too excited for coming back, nor too sad for leaving Hometown. She left her school in Hometown, when she was in her senior year of elementary school. Leaving her friends was never been a big deal for her. Mainly because she's never been so into making friends.

One Fine Day

Today, everything was perfectly fine. Just like any other days. I stayed in my room all day, wrote stuff, watched movies, had meals, had a coffee, replied mom's text, drank a lot of water, paid for the room rent, talked with my next-door mate. Everything was fine, but not until my chest told me I wasn't. I felt something heavy inside. Something I didn't know what to call. I cried before I knew it. 

"Is it all worth it?" I asked myself. I saw myself sitting in front of my laptop, along with my black book, pencil, eraser and a cup of coffee. Then, I saw myself on other days. I did the same thing, in the same place. 

"No, it is not," someone answered. 

My mind flew to days when I was younger. I was seven. I saw myself smiling while writing a story about a birthday girl. 

"Why didn't you tell her before? Why did you even let her have this silly ambition in such a young age? Why did you let that little girl believes on an arbitrary dream? Why didn't you warn her that she might regret having this desire?"

No one answered.

I cried louder. 

The next thing I know, was this someone inside my head, telling myself about how worthless I am. 

"You're not even worth the life you live," that someone said. "You've been telling lies in your whole life. You told yourself you can do this, while you know you can't. You're not good enough. You're a failure. People will make fun of you. Ooh, maybe they won't even bother making fun of you at all, because they just don't give a shit to you. They don't even know you're exist. 

"You're not a daughter your parents proud of, you're not a friend your friends care about, you're just not a human any human gives a shit to. 

"Maybe it would be better if you don't exist at all. Your mom will only have your sister and she'll be fine. Your ibu kos will have another tenant for this room and she'll be fine. Your best friends will have another person to befriend with and they'll be okay. Your crushes will have another girls to have crush on and they'll be good.  

"You can't do anything. You can't be anyone. You're nothing and you're no one. Your struggle is worthless, your tears, heavy breath and self-sabotaging mind is such a waste. Your life is such a waste.  

"Why do you even live? You shouldn't have even lived at all."

I shut it up. I couldn't breath. I gasped for air to fill my lung. My tears was all over my pillow case.

Then, the voices stopped. My head was back in silence. I was breathing again. I stopped crying. 

I know that someone is still there. She's in my head, waiting for another fine day to emerge, sabotage my mind, fill my chest with heavy stuff that I didn't even know I kept for all this time.

Another Home

A long time ago, there was a little girl who lived in the most memorable place on earth. People named that place Jogja. She named it Another Home. She lived there with her mother and little sister. Sometimes, her father came to visit. He would came along from a place called Hometown and brought her another piece of happiness. Whenever her three precious people was around, she knew that it couldn't be any happier. Until it was not.

Pantsing: WIP Update #2

Dear, you

It's been two weeks since my first WIP update, so I'm not gonna tell you my day-to-day update, it will just be my overall update. So, I read about a novella competition that was held by an online writing platform and I got so excited by this, in the several few days I spend my days, sitting in front of my laptop and just write a lot of words.

The first chapter was published and I was so happy about that. I planned to get my second and third chapters, by the next couple days but it was just seemed impossible until last Friday. So, I didn't really outline a lot for this novella, because I was so sure that I'm gonna finish this without having to outline every single thing. And the fact that I was able to express more about myself through the way of pantsing, have made me so encouraged and discouraged at the same time.

I would say that most of the days was me writing garbage words, knowing that I'll ditch them right away. But I was just so frustrated if I write nothing, so I was just convinced myself that it'll be okay to write garbage. So I did it. And what's magic from writing thousands of garbage is that at the end of the day, at the end, it's almost guarantee that I'll find this magical thing, where I just could see where this heads to and get so surprised by the story that just flow after I rewrite those garbage. More or less, I think, it's really like me writing a blog post like this.

I always just write everything in my head and at the end, I'll rewrite everything. And for most of the days I didn't feel good about by day, because I mostly write in the morning before work, and because of that didn't feel good feeling about my work, felt bad on myself for the entire day. I can't even get track of my wordcount.

Yours,
Kalista

Girls and Their Make-Ups

"You look good."

That's what you, and other billions of people say whenever I wear make up: liquid powder, lipstick, blush on (most of the times), mascara and eyeliner (sometimes).   

I wasn't really sure if that was a compliment though, because what you see was not the real me. It was me covered by a mask. But I smiled and thanked you anyway.  

That scene was repeated over and over, until I strongly hold this believe that I do look good when I put on make-up. No make up, no look good. Like Pavlov's dog who salivated when a bell rang. No bell, no saliva. Association between make-up and looking good is supposed to be as irrelevant as saliva and bell, but thanks to Pavlov's conditioning theory experiment, which has proven that it is possible to manipulate human's (and dog's) behavior through a made-up condition. 

By nature, dogs only need food to salivate. No bells needed. The same case happens for me. By nature, I am just as good as I already am. No make-up needed. So, who made me associate looking good with make-up? Your words did. Just like what the bell did to the food. You've successfully manipulated my believe about my look through your conditioned stimuli. 

Unfortunately, this conditioned stimuli has spread to all over world. I told you that I started to feel anxious about my look and started to loose track of things I matter the most, after being conditioned by make-up. I wanted to go back to days when I didn't need a conditioned stimuli to feel good about myself. But I just couldn't, because you (and other people in the entire world) keep on telling me that: I look pale without make up; I look prettier with make up; I look more presentable with make up; I look more put together with make up; and the lists goes on (things that you don't say to boys though they don't use make up, which is not fair).   

Finally, I came to a conclusion. If you could manipulate my behavior, why couldn't I manipulate my own behavior? I'll create my own stimuli (to go out without make up) and create my own conditioned response (to feel good about myself). It does not just reverse myself to the unconditioned response, but also gives a new conditioned stimuli to you, that I do look good without make up. But if that theory does not apply in this-already-massively-spread-conditioned-stimuli, then, there's nothing I could do more than changing my own believe about my own self. 

Because at the end, it's not that you-look-good comment that I'm begging for in life. It is my passionate work that I'm striving for, and value to others that I'm serving for. My truest life goals will definitely be good without me having to be manipulated by your irrelevant words. 

Convey Messages in A Story: WIP Update #1

Dear, you

Here is my first weekly WIP update and I'm gonna start on August, 21st. Monday and Thursday are supposed to be hectic days at work, because those are days where children have classes and make me have to work for nine hours straight. Usually, I got home with no strength left, especially to work on my writing. But that Monday, I didn't know what possessed me, surprisingly, I was able to stay awake from eight to eleven pm, to actually outline this goddamn book. And what more surprising than that, was I created a lot of breakthrough and highlighted bunch of questions that I need to answer on the following days. That was such a good start for me to proudly announce in this post. 

On the next day, August 22nd, was the day where I felt like craving for motivational references to keep me on the creative mood. I didn't outline a lot, but I did get some enlightenment from writing videos I watched. That was about how fictions are supposed to be a great way to convey messages about humanity and morality; and how a story should make the readers think long after the book, which I've forgotten during this entire outlining process. So, I noted that in my Black Book (that's how I name my outlining notebook) and created another breakthrough on the following day, according to that new insight.

On August 23rd, after thinking about status quo in my society, I wrote some messages that I wanted to deliver through my writing, I came back to my outline, re-read one of my first notes in the Black Book and decided to add a new PoV. This PoV will follow a male main character who lives in a whole different society from the main female character's, showing a contrast of thought, inner conflict and actions. Which I think, would be really good to enrich the message I'm trying to deliver. 

On the following two last days of this weekly update, I didn't outline anything. During those days, I wasn't able to actually implement new ideas that I had on the previous days into a coherence outline, which kinda make me frustrated. So, instead of forcing myself to keep on working, I gave myself a break, did a workout, read a book (The Hate U Give by Angie Thomas), went to a reunion event and had a conversation with a friend until past midnight. I'm constantly trying to keep my sanity intake, because that is the ultimate reason for me going through this journey. To keep on living, instead of merely existing or worst, being crazy. 

Next week, I'm hoping you to stay around, because I want to get more things together, to discover more answers to questions I've outlined, to see more through the eye of the characters and of course, to keep on cherishing this beautiful yet frustrating life. 

Yours,

Kalista

Intro to WIP Updates

Dear, you

After thinking for too long, I finally decided to create this label. I've been tracking my WIP progress for myself, but it didn't seem to work. Instead of making a progress, I got stuck. I kept on changing, apparently, every single thing about my WIP, but none were seem to bring me somewhere closer to the end of my first draft. 

So, I looked back to my 22 years of life and found an incredibly surprising fact about myself (and most people, I believe): I managed to finish things that were obliged by something beyond myself, I hated them, but I did them anyway because of the urge from people or systems. So, here I am, trying to include that 'something-beyond-myself thing', which in this case, you, to track my progress in finishing thing that I'm truly passionate about. 

I'll be posting regularly (either weekly or monthly) under this label and update my WIP progress. I'll be super honest about everything during the process. There might be some days where I'll be excited because of the progress I make and there might be days where I'll be stressed out and depressed, because of writers block or any other type of blocks. But, the point is, to include you in holding myself accountable for finishing this WIP. 

At the end of the day, I know I'll still be the only one and will always be the only one who have to do this work until the end. But knowing the fact that you are reading my struggle, at the very least, will constantly remind me of my responsibility on you, to show you that I really am capable of finishing what I've started. 

Yours, 

Kalista

The Self-Centered Universe

Recently, as my ideas-detector started to get back on its activated mode (it was on hiatus for a while, due to the self-hate I suffered from), I've gained back my observational-thought, which helped me to survive as a thinking-breathing-living being.   

At work, there is another full-time employee whom I spend most of my working-time with. We sit next to each other, separated by a-meter-long desk and a pile of the children's homework we have to score. When we're bored, we ask questions about each other's life, and this is where I found a theory which I've heard somewhere (not sure where it was). It is called the self-centered universe. 

We talked about last night, when I got lost to the location of an event that I had to attend. That was such a short-unintentional talk, we laughed for a while (faking a laugh to be exact), it ended within seconds, and we were back in silence. Few moments later, another conversation popped up, it was a work-related-stuff. But in a strange way, I didn't get it. I should've said something correlated to the topic, instead I chattered about how I managed to get home after the event last night, which the talk has ended a moment ago. It took me a while to realize how stupid my response was. And I was not the only one being stupid. She was too, made me have to clarify what actually the talk was about. But still, it happened for hundred times later.  

In self-centered universe theory, every person acts as the center of the universe, making there's no single particular center but millions. In this term, center does not necessarily mean a physical form of a thing which physically becomes the only source of focus of the entire universe. Center is a perspective. According to the short-unintentional talk above, we could spot a tendency to drag the topic of new conversation to the topic of former conversation. The reason for this was because we have this perspective that the former conversation was the one which we played a role as the main character. We love being on the spotlight, we want to bring the rest of the talk to the stage where we gain the most attention from and it's no difference with any other aspects of life.   

As long as human bring this big guy inside our heads (a.k.a brain), we always will bring this portable stage everywhere. This is the stage where we wish other people to see, to admire, to give standing ovation upon, to worship, because we believe that we're the main character that deserve such attention. No one wants to be on any one else's stage, because we don't want to play as a mere side kick. Unfortunately, it is not only us who hold this believe. Everyone else does. We know this, but we pretend like we don't. Instead of bringing others to collaborate and create an amazing play, we compare each other's stage and become showy of our own false believes that we're the best actor. 

There are only two possibilities where this could lead to: first, we go no where; second, we ruin each other's stage just for the sake of our own's.   

P.S: this post is written to celebrate the independence day.

The Day I Lost My Right Arm

One fine Monday morning, I woke up and couldn't find my right arm. It was not on the pillow, under the blanket, nor behind my back. It wasn't everywhere. I glanced at my feet, wondering if they were intact. Thank God, they were.

It was 7.30 am. One and a half hour before I should go to work. I still got time to find my other arm, but I needed help, so I asked you to come out.

"Where the heck you put it? You fed it to a hyena or something?" You were frustrated. Your hair was as messy as mine, we both always look terrible in every morning.

"I can't remember. I'm sure it was here." I pointed at my right shoulder, showing you a spot where my right arm should be. Now, it's just a 10-centimeters-long bone, covered by a thin layer of skin. It was like a cut from a neat-freak, that was operated during my deep sleep last night. "Help me find it," I said.

You rolled your eyes, seemed uninteresred. "Can't we just have a breakfast? I'm so hungry, I could die." You knew I hated complain and it wasn't take you too long to restate your offer. "Let's find it on nearby soto seller. You have soto for breakfast every morning, maybe it made you forgot to bring back your arm."

I noticed your stupid idea, but I agreed anyway. "Make sense." We left to have a breakfast and to find my right arm.

to be continued

Book Store

It's Sunday. Many people spend their time by going out and spending their money on something, including books. It wasn't in my today to-do list to go anywhere, but you insisted me and I easily agreed. We went to book store.

Staring at people being so much enthusiastic on books, was just as good as me reading books. Children  stopped by child magazine section just to read out loud the cover, teenagers read the blurb of a half-price-illustrated self-improvement book, parents discussed with their final-year-high-school child about choosing an exam preparation book and more people made a line in front of the cashier with pile of books in their hands. Despite of not knowing if they'll actually read what they've bought, that view was heartwarming enough.

I asked you to look at the ceiling of the book store. Promotional tools were hang up there. They were in red and blue. I could see the founder of this company, smiling from the height. "Aren't you thankful for anyone with an amazing courage of running a book store? I mean, what was in their mind? While others are struggling just to read and buy books, they came up with thousands of books! Even millions!"

You seemed disagree. "No, I'm not. People paid for them. What should be thankful for? It's an exchange, not a gift which you could simply get without purchasing any money. Don't you come here to spend your money on something? At least the parking lot. At least, by just existing here, you've showed them that you want them to keep on running their business, thus you let them to keep on making more money even if it's not from your own pocket. They are the one who should be thankful."

You make me like a fool book-lover who has zero attention upon what's beyond the visible and I could not accept that. "Firstly, gratitude was never been made for only accepting free stuff. Secondly, everything in this universe is about exchanging. Even free stuff. It's just not about something that a small-minded guy like you would think." My words made you frowned. I grinned.

"What do you mean?" you asked.

I chuckled. "Use your brain."

"I do!" you protested, made me burst into laughter.

"Not that brain," I pointed on your head. "But this brain," I moved my finger to somewhere around your chest. I paused for a while, waiting for your response, expecting you to understand.

But you did not. You were still frowning instead. I sighed.

"Okay, it's time to leave. You've been out here for too long."

You didn't want to. You insisted me to explain the whole thing, which I didn't do. It was enough for me to know how some people think about book, money and gratitude, and I didn't want to tell them about mine.

These are some hints:
1) giving is receiving;
2) it has nothing to do with money.

As usual, I put you back in the corner of my head, letting you stay there, until you come up with an answer of your confusion. 

I Can't Do This

I remember writing just because I love the typing sound on the keyboard. 

I remember being proud of my work and giving no care to those best-selling books.

I remember waking up without worrying on how I'm gonna finish what I've written. 

Those days, are no longer around. 

Last night, I slept after bursting into a lot of laughter from funny YouTube videos. A fake laughter. I used it to deny my self-doubt. With pillow covering my face, I shouted repeatedly.

"I can't do this. I'm done with this." 

The night remained quiet. My black book was opened; my pencils, markers, sticky notes were all over the places; my laptop was sitting nicely on the floor, showing me what I've been working on for this past few months. I stared at them, with self-sabotaging words echoing in my head. I crawled to reach a pencil, tried to write something down. One word, two words, ten words, and.. I gave up. 

Once again, I covered my face with a pillow, just to add more pain to myself by shouting the same words. Repeatedly. 

"I can't do this. I'm done with this." 

Those words were hanging in my head all night long, my chest was overloaded by an invisible army of self-doubt, my hands and feet were trembling, that army has defeated my final defense. I thought I was dying. And I was, indeed. 

Then, I watched another YouTube video with my leftover strength. It was a sad one and it was perfect. I cried as I was touched by the video content, which I definitely was not. The video ended. I stopped crying. I let things scattered on the floor, I went to wash my face, brush my teeth and went to bed after watching another funny videos. I laughed a lot like I hadn't cried before. I laughed like I was super proud of myself and my work, which I absolutely was not. 

First Day

My first day at work was overwhelming. I barely feel my feet on the ground, I wasn't even sure of what I was doing on the desk, until you showed up and reminded me to stay focus. It was just one day after you asked me, whether or not I was sure about having a job.

"I'm super sure I'll get this job," I said. You were with me, on my motorbike, right after my first time ever job interview. The sun was shinning too bright as usual, pollution was all over the places as usual.

"Will it make you stay human?" you asked. It was the same question you've been asking since.. God knows when.

We discussed this. About having a job to keep me sane, to keep me away from being stressed out of my messed up thought. You named it, 'to stay human'. You suggested me some conditions for the job that I could apply for:

1. it's nearby;
2. it's not that demanding;

3. it's doesn't use up my writing time.

"They have children, parents, English, assignments. What's better than that?" I answered, tried to sound confident.

You were not there for several next hours, hid at the back of my head, until a text message arrived, telling me to start working immediately, on the following day. You nodded, smiled and gave a bless to my first day ever in my first job ever.

A Debt

It's been five months since the day I graduate. I sat next to my best friend in the balcony, staring at a mountain that was covered with night lights, small buildings, houses' roof, and trees' canopies.

"How does it feel?" you asked.

"I feel nothing," I answered. You know I was lying. I was too overwhelmed with abundance of feelings that was coming back and forth during this five months period. You know I've felt too much ups and downs, you know I've had enough with them, but you also know that they'll keep on coming to me until I finish things I supposed to finish.

"Don't you miss those days? When all you've got was days packed with schedule? When you're surrounded with friends you interacted with, with tasks someone asked you to do, with deadlines someone else made for you to meet, with a potential that was chained for the sake of comfort? Weren't those days beautiful? I wish I could stay in that moment forever. Don't you?"

I shook my head. "Not at all. I'm good now. I was dying back then. I should've escaped earlier. The chain was locked too tight. I barely find my way out."

You giggled. "So, you regret being in those days? After all the excitements?"

"I said nothing about being in regret. They were indeed beautiful. But I won't miss any of them. The future seem to worth more my regret though."

"It hasn't even happened. What's the regret for?"

"I regret for not being able to make them to come earlier. I mean, if I spare more time juggling between doing other's order and doing my own thing, I don't think that I'll be this stupid. You know, the procrastination, laziness and stuff. They're here with me, since the day I was born. Could you help me getting rid of them? Please? For me? Your bestie?"

"I've got them too. I should help myself as well," you paused. "What about exchanging problems? I'll face yours and you'll do mine. We live in the same head, remember?" you giggled. I giggled.

You know, we both are stupid. But we laughed at it anyway. I've never been so stubborn with any of decisions I've made. But this time, it won't remain the same. I've told you like.. billion times that I'll keep on moving forward, following the direction that the smaller version of me was created. People named it dreams. I named it debt. The potential, the spirit, the desire, the persistence, were things that were given by my old self, to my current self. As an exchange, my current self should pay back by realizing certain objectives.

After exchanging giggles, I brought you back inside my head, in the corner of my brain, letting you wait there until a time when I need a bestie to talk with. 

Strangers Interaction

There are some characteristics of strangers-interaction:

1. consist of communication between two or more people
2. run in short period of time;
3. happen in public places, e.g: train, shops, street, etc.
4. based on mutual-short-term physical circumstances, e.g: strangers being passengers of a train because of a mutual interest of going to their destinations, strangers being in a bus stop because of a mutual interest of waiting for a bus to come.

Recently, I took a train from Malang and Semarang, and interacted with two strangers during the trip. We were perfectly fulfilled those characteristics and we had such a great trip because of each other. Once I arrived in Semarang, one of those two strangers, tried to extend our strangers interaction which ignores characteristic number two, three and four. Let's called him X.    

What did he do? 

After I arrived in Semarang, according to the characteristics, the strangers-interaction between me and those two strangers, are automatically ended. Because the short period of time has ended (characteristic number 2) and I didn't have the mutual-short-term physical circumstance with them anymore (characteristic number 4).

But instead, X was keep on sending me messages and bombarding me with calls while I was in my private room, a place where it's impossible for me to build any common interest with anyone. There are only two possibilities to explain what X tried to do: he didn't know how strangers-interaction should be (which makes him stupid); or he wanted to create a completely new interaction (which makes him stupid as well). In other words, a stranger could not interact with another stranger, if: he wants to have a longer period of interaction; he doesn't interact in public places; or there is no mutual-short-term-circumstances. So, for me, there would be two possibilities as well: ignoring X completely because he doesn't act to fulfill strangers-interaction anymore; or responding to X that might lead to interaction that is completely different with strangers interaction. 

I chose the former (the latter doesn't even look like a choice, it's a nightmare).

Once a strangers-interaction is ended, there will be another series of  strangers interactions that are created and ended within seconds. They replace one another according to each person's mobility and interest. That's why, it was easy for X to jump from strangers-interactions into a new interaction that he tried to build. But at the same time, it was also super easy for me to jump to another strangers interactions without considering any of my interactions with any strangers in the past. 

If I Knew It Earlier

Whole my life, I've been questioning, why do Muslims have to pray for so many times a day? Even when I was 13, I told my Catholic friend that I envy her for not having to pray that much. And she said nothing as a response, causing me become even more envy of other religions, that in my eyes, they are much easier to be practiced. The same thought emerged every Ramadhan. Though it's never been that hard for me to fast (because I just hated to eat), but still, the believe that becoming a Muslim is such a burden, was always been in my head for as long as I could remember.   

In the next several years of my life, I started to feel less burdened to practice my religious routine. However, the routines were just feel so plain to me: praying, fasting, doing more good, doing less harm, etc. I valued my prayer only when I have ulterior motives, like: wanted Him to ease me through a hardship, wanted Him to guide me through the process of reaching a goal, etc. It's not the prayer itself that I needed, instead, it was the reward following the prayer that I pursue. In fact, it is not a wrong thing to do. It is just not a motive that could keep me on giving a value to every prayer I do.

Until after the day I graduated in January, where everything in my future was just seem so blur (even until today), I started to find goals where possible: writing stories, learning IELTS, aiming for abroad scholarship. I was overwhelmed by goals. 

After battling with the anxiety and doubt, I decided that it's time to get a grip. 

To where? To who? 

Him. 

I changed my intention. I changed my goal. I mentioned it in every prayer. 

I tell Him, that I do live in the name of Him. I live because He should be the only ultimate goal of everything I'm doing. I've had enough of myself, my goals, people and the world in general, but Him. 

So, I came back to Him like I've never been there before. 

Then, my prayer started to be a need, rather than an obligation. My prayer started to be a talk to a Lover, rather than memorized Arabic words. I started to miss Him even more when it was not the prayer time. 

Then, I started to see Him everywhere. In a tree that grows in front of my room, in colony of ants that are passing by my room door, in ripe fruits I bought for lunch, in the skin of a lizard, in a bucket of water in my bathroom. I saw Him everywhere.

Until then, I knew that I should've been present for Him, instead of Him being the only one who presents for me. 

Live shouldn't have been this hard if I knew it earlier. 

Her

This anxiety has continuously come since the day I graduated. The whole thing about graduation was never been a matter to me. But it was, for my mom. My sister told me that mom was bursting into tears while staring at me walking down the hall wearing the whole graduation attire. Of course, it's never been my success. It's my mom's. She's the one who did all the struggle, I was just having fun while studying a little.

Time Wasted

Since the very beginning of March, I've tried to put a job for every hour per day. I managed to do well until today, the first wasted day of the entire month of March. Literally, all I did was none: had my mind flown away somewhere, abandoned my IELTS practice book, let the laundry drown and did not even have an appetite for any meals. So far, I could clearly declare that today is the most wasted day of the month (hoping there won't be any day like this until end of March). I've always been hated wasting my time, moreover, when I felt like having no control upon the procrastination monkey inside my brain. Beside the day that I failed the IELTS prediction test, this was way worse.    

Recharging

My friend has stayed in my place since past three days. Today, before I wasn't properly awaken, she went home. Since then, it was me, myself and I left. But I need a ritual that assist my state of mind to be fully transferred from me-being-with-someone-zone into me-myself-and-I-zone. So, after finishing a prediction test for writing and speaking (IELTS of course), I was planning to go straight to anywhere but my room. Along the way to that somewhere, I had a talk to myself about: my band score prediction for the prediction test; how I would be able to have a better-scheduled-self-study;  and whether I'll have another bottle of yogurt before bed. 

Unpredictably, I spent 1.5 hours of self-studying in a public place (where I could act like a high-achieving-student that practice with my book without giving a care to the world). My dinner was unpredictably good as well. So did my day. Now, I'm fully present for being with my own self. 

Punishment

Today is a writing days. I spent hours just to write fours paragraph of essay. I don't want to look like a fool, that was my goal, so I put so much effort without considering the time limit. Wasting time is a thing that I hated the most after a song titled Akad that is still played in 2018, but still I was wasting time. It might look like I did a positive thing through writing. In fact, it's no longer positive if it ate up more time than it supposed to. Though I wrote with a good idea flow, I abandoned the rule, I practice in a wrong way, I should've lost marks. Moreover, I let myself practice in a way that is too far from the actual test atmosphere: I listened to music, had a chat, a meal, a drink and unnecessary headache. 

I should punish myself, so I had two bottles of yogurt with a discount that's only sold in Indomaret. Suddenly, I don't know what's the difference between punishment and reward.

Marriage

We haven't been talking about boys for ages and here it comes again. There's a couple with six years apart, the man will turn 30 by next month, the woman is all grown up. They've known each other for three months and there'll be no other objection besides marriage. But still the woman should be convinced about one thing, which she consider to be vital to start a family. "Good! Keep it up!" I said. Suddenly, an image of two people, that used to be strangers, living for each other for the rest of their lives, started to blow up my head. Again.

I can't even imagine having a husband in the next five or ten years. Just like I couldn't image graduating from Psychology, going overseas, making a friend, or just as simple as waking up early. I captured nothing, but I just did them anyway. So don't judge me from not having a future-related-to-marriage pictured in my current stage. I'm still planning my future though it has nothing to do with being someone's wife.   

Beam of Light

Thank God for sending me a friend for sleep over since last few days, instead of letting me slowly losing my sanity in lonesome. Another meeting that I had today with GPY Semarang was also successfully enhance my sense-of-being-a-human. Moreover, I should send some important documents to friends, thus I need to talk with more people than I did in no-mail-to-be-sent days. 

Besides, a miracle also happened today. A friend was willing to help me with IELTS' writing feedback. Suddenly, I saw a beam of light at the end of the unknown street. I started to feel like knowing where to step on and where to avoid. I gained back the spirit to learn, which used to reach its lowest point since the  end  of February. 

For the first time since several weeks, I wrote some proper words in an academical structure for the sake of the IELTS writing section 2. It took ages for me to meet the end. But still, I enjoy the whole process of arranging words into sentence, until an essay was formed. 

Thanks, brain. I'm nothing without you.   

Annoyed

I woke up knowing that I wasn't alone. My friend had a slept over. More or less, she made me more human than usual. God bless, I've got someone to had my dinner with and someone to laugh with. She brought back my sense-of-being-a-human into a much different level, 

I wasn't home since early morning for the sake of meeting a potential partner for GPY Semarang. But it ended up being the worst meeting ever. I knew that I was the only one bothered being so punctuate and drive all the way to their place, while they didn't even try to do so. I knew such human are exist. But still I'm annoyed.

Me and GPY had another meeting, set a time for the event and structured the organizing committee. I left before it was ended, went to my IELTS course place and had a prediction test. I came home knowing that I indeed know nothing about nothing. Zero. 

February Wrap-Up

The beginning of a new month has come in a blink of an eye. In February, (beside turning 22) I started and finished my IETLS course, which I supposed to take more seriously with doing more self-study instead of relying on what's the tutor telling me. I had an IELTS simulation for reading and listening. Don't ask me how I was doing. I was terrible. That's all. I  wasn't even expecting any score higher than 4. Even 3. A good thing about learning English (again) is feeling good about feeling like a foolish. At least I knew something that I'm terrible at. Apparently, every single thing. 

Beside the IELTS, I took another role in GPY Semarang as a vice leader. I knew I should've just stepped aside from any organizational thingy, because I felt like I've done enough for this past four years. Unfortunately, that was the only thing that made me stay human: meet people and communicate right to others' eyes. Our team will conduct two major events by only two months of preparation and I'm ready to be insane with them. I was encouraged to maintain my own project and was expected enlarge the impact. I wasn't even given the chance to question why the hell those people were counting on my project so much. 

Last but not least, I'm still living up my dream which has been there since I wasn't even know how to ride a bike: writing a book. So far, I've done.. nothing but a rough outline which has come to an endless revising phase. On daily basis, I still observe people and play silly scenarios in my head with them as the main characters, I still rather be with my hand-written note than a digital one to keep any sudden-coming ideas and most of all.. I still have no idea on how to finish the damn outline. Wish for a progress in March. 

Wish me luck.

I Hated an Innocence

I used to hate my sister so freaking much.  I had no idea why was it not enough for my parents to just have a daughter, instead of two. I used to wish to live all by my own, having all Barbies in the entire world without sharing a play with someone, choosing any meal I wanted without letting the young made the first choice and most of all, I wanted to live in peace without being interrupted by the mess others made.

Nevertheless, as I grew up the hatred was lessen, because there are no more Barbies that I wanted to play with, there is no more meal that I wanted more over other meal and I could create my own peacefulness in any circumstances. I let my parents and sister decided whatever they wanted me to do. I’ll be super acceptance to whatever their choices are. My adolescence was over and the entrance to adulthood couldn’t be more obvious. I was no longer find a reason to keep the hatred, thus it’s vanished.

As I turned 22 recently, I received a love letter from this little shit. I started to cry. I stopped crying just to start another round of tears. I know I should’ve not hated an innocence.

Malang, 11/02/2018

Dear my favorite human,

I couldn't be any happier to have you in my life.

I could sing and dance on this pathetic life is because of you.

I couldn't be here as myself if you're not there by my side.

I could know what is wrong and right is because of you.

Do you know what?

I believe in everything that you do is gonna bring you good.

Just remember that I'll always be here to cry like a baby with you, 

to chill like a cool kid with you, to rock the shit in life like a pro with you.

I'll always be here as your little sister who you can rely on.

Happy birthday!

Love,

Opik

Wejangan dari Si Satu untuk Si Dua

22. Lihatlah dua angka dua yang bersebelahan itu. Akhirnya tiba giliran mereka bersama, menggantikan Si Dua dan Si Satu yang tadinya juga bersama. Sebelum Si Satu lengser, ia memberikan wejangan berikut pada Si Dua:

1. kendalikan dirimu sendiri lebih dari orang lain mengendalikanmu;
2. kendalikan dirimu sendiri lebih dari internet mengendalikanmu;
3. bedakan antara orang-orang yang datang untuk menetap dan orang-orang yang datang untuk pergi;
4. waspada pada monnyet prokrastinasi. Ia benar-benar ada, sampai kau menyadari bahwa usiamu habis hanya untuk meladeni Si Monyet;
5. manusia tidak butuh tetek bengek sebanyak dan atau semahal itu untuk mempertahankan kemanusiaannya. Hal yang tidak dibutuhkan: skin care mahal, make up mahal, buku-buku yang dibeli tapi belum tentu dibaca, subscribe Youtube channel artis-artis tanpa faedah, bermimpi jadi anaknya JK Rowling. Hal yang mempertahankan kemanusiaan: berbagi pada yang membutuhkan, tenggang rasa, jujur, memikirkan skripsi, mengerjakan skripsi, sayang pada sesama makhluk hidup, sayang Tuhan;
6. kalau gelisah, kembali ke napas. Kata Pak Hans, emosi, perasaan dan pikiran yang macam-macam itu sebenarnya netral. Yang membuat begah adalah kalau meladeni mereka sampai jadi biang keladi perseteruan internal ataupun eksternal. Supaya tidak begah: kembali ke napas;
7. buat target harian yang realistis. Setidaknya, capai setengah dari target harian. Tapi kebanyakan bikin target juga tidak baik. Bisa membuat sense of accomplishment rendah;
8. dunia terlalu sempit untuk dilihat dari yang terlihat. Jangan terlalu pusing, tapi jangan terlalu pasrah. Temukan sumber semangat yang tidak terlihat. Sumber yang tidak cari-cari semangat dari sumber lain. Jangan manja pada manusia;
9. kalau mau mengerjakan sesuatu, jangan dipikir ritualnya. Misal: mau skripsian, tapi yang dipikir, Aah beberes kosan dulu. Aah cari café enak dulu. Aah ngidam makan ini aah. Yang harusnya dipikirkan: aah mau cari jurnal buat self-handicapping. Aah mau ngelarin dinamika psikologis. Aah masih mau ke Teknik Sipil ambil 20 subjek;
10. hobi yang konsumtif harus diikuti dengan hobi yang produktif. Seperti hobi menimbun buku yang belum tentu dibaca semua, diimbangi dengan menulis banyak-banyak walaupun isinya sampah;
11. nyatanya kau bisa jadi contoh bagi orang lain kalau mau bertindak;
12. diapresiasi itu membuat sadar tentang manfaat hal-hal yang kau kira tidak sebermanfaat itu. Walaupun cuman bagi-bagi mainan ke anak-anak PAUD yang sekarang sekolahnya sudah ditutup, nyatanya ada segelintir orang yang minta projek itu dikembangkan;
13. kadar rasa rindu pada keluarga itu seperti gunung es;
14. berikan apa yang bisa diberikan pada keluarga. Apa pun. Sungguh;
15. bukan perjalanan namanya kalau tidak ada bebatuannya;
16. jangan berpikir telah tiba di akhir perjalanan, kalau belum benar-benar sampai. Dosen penguji yang hilang batang hidungnya, ketua sidang yang penuh ancaman, adalah contoh bebatuan yang selalu muncul di detik-detik terakhir;
17. manusia yang mati rasa itu benar-benar ada. Apa mungkin itu bukan manusia?;
18. pertahankan manusia-manusia yang selalu menempel denganmu, biasanya mereka menularkan hal-hal baik juga. Seperti merangsangmu untuk rajin skripsian dan wisuda bersama;
19. raga sering iri pada jiwa karena jarang diolah. Jadi, ber-olahraga-lah;
20. makan-makanan beracun bikin kau merasa bersalah pada tubuh. Sungguh perasaan yang tidak mengenakkan;
21. itulah wejangan dari Si Satu. Satu pamit. Selamat Tinggal.  

Kepiluan Masa Kecil

Pada usiaku yang keempat, aku diajari melipat bangau oleh kawan Ibuku. Kuikuti setiap tahap yang diperagakannya. Awalnya aku bisa mengikuti dengan mudah, tapi lama kelamaan, Si Om itu mulai laju lipat-melipatnya. Aku pun tertingggal jauh. Si Om sudah menyelesaikan bangaunya, sedangkan aku kebingungan dengan origamiku. Sesak. Sesak sekali rasanya ditinggalkan melipat bangau oleh Si Om. Aku tidak terima ditinggal begitu. Menangislah aku di pelukan Ibu yang sedang ada di kamarnya. Ibu menuntunku menemui Si Om, kuharap Ibu akan meminta Om untuk mengajariku dengan perlahan. Tapi Ibu tidak melakukannya dan Si Om malah tertawa-tawa sambil menunjukkan bangaunya yang sudah jadi dengan sangat indah. Aku pun menangis semakin nyaring. Aku tidak terima ditertawakan setelah ditinggal membuat bangau. Aku juga sendirian dalam sedihku, karena Ibu tidak mengerti keinginanku untuk diajari melipat bangau dengan pelan-pelan.

Kepiluan yang lain, terjadi saat aku lebih muda satu tahun, usia tiga tahun. Aku punya kawan namanya Vita. Ia sangat gendut, karena makannya banyak. Sore itu, aku dan Vita bermain di depan rumah kami yang bertetangga. Aku bermain dengan sepeda roda tigaku dan Vita yang tidak punya sepeda, hanya meloncat-loncat sambil disuapi makan sore oleh ibunya. Aku ingat waktu itu ada tiga ibu-ibu yang mengerubungi kami bermain. Saat aku asik bermain sepeda, tiba-tiba Vita bilang ingin main sepeda juga.

Berat sekali hatiku meminjamkan sepedaku pada Vita yang gendut, aku takut sepedaku rusak karena berat badan Vita. Tapi ibunya menyuruhku untuk meminjami Vita. Aku pun meminjaminya dengan berat hati, sambil bilang, "awas nanti jatuh." Tak berapa lama setelah Vita naik di sepedaku, benar saja. Ia terjatuh dan menangis. Aku marah pada Vita. Aku pun bilang, "kasihan deh lo!" Sontak, ibu-ibu menertawakanku. Aku tidak mengerti apa yang mereka tertawakan. Aku marah dan bingung. Sesak. Sesak sekali rasanya. Aku ditertawakan saat aku merasa kesal. Aku pun berlari ke dalam rumah, menuju kamar Ayah, menemui Ayah yang setengah tertidur. Mengadu padanya dan menangis senyaring-nyaringnya. Tapi Ayah tidak melakukan apa pun dan kembali tidur. Aku kesal dengan Ayah, karena tidak melakukan apa-apa saat aku sedih.

Kira-kira, masih pada usiaku yang ketiga. Aku sangat takut dengan boneka Susan milik tetanggaku, Vita. Suatu hari, aku main ke rumahnya. Vita punya seorang kakak perempuan, yang sepertinya sangat menyukai boneka itu. Saat aku dan Vita sedang bermain, kakak perempuannya itu ikut bermain bersama kami, tapi dengan membawa boneka Susannya. Aku pun terkejut dan menangis sejadi-jadinya. Aku tidak ingin Susan memakanku dengan wajahnya yang seram. Kakak perempuan Vita pun membawa pergi boneka Susan, dibukanya jendela kamar dan dijulurkan boneka itu di jendela. Ia bilang, "nih bonekanya aku buang. Sudah aku buang." Aku masih menangis. Usiaku tiga tahun, tapi aku tahu persis bahwa aku sedang dibohongi. Boneka itu tidak pernah dibuang. Boneka itu hanya melewati jendela, tapi tidak dilepaskan dari tangan kakak perempuan Vita. Aku pun pulang dengan perasaan sedih, karena takut Susan dan dibohongi.

Kepiluan masa kecil itu masih kuingat hingga detik ini. Akhirnya aku sampai pada saat aku mampu menjelaskan apa yang kurasakan dulu. Kini aku tahu, bahwa aku benci ditertawakan, dibohongi dan aku ingin dibela saat aku sedih.  

Mawar Putih dalam Keberadaan

Selama lima tahun keberadaan kulkas di dapur seorang manusia, ia telah menjadi saksi bisu perjuangan bunga mawar putih dalam pot yang bertahta di atas si kulkas. Seharian ini, bunga mawar memekik-mekik pada manusia yang mondar-mondir di dapur, untuk setidaknya melihat keindahan kelopaknya. Manusia pertama tidak melihatnya. Manusia kedua ke dapur hanya untuk ambil air es dari kulkas. Manusia kedua ke dapur untuk makan siang sambil baca update dari akun gosip. Manusia ketiga ke dapur untuk mengejar kucing yang menggondol tulang ayam. Manusia keempat ke dapur untuk duduk sambil tenggelam dalam buku bacaannya. Satu kesamaan mereka. Tidak ada yang menyadari keberadaan si mawar putih. 

Suatu malam, saat keempat manusia itu telah terlelap, si mawar putih pun berkeluh kesah kepada kulkas. "Aku tahu aku hanyalah pajangan. Pajangan untuk mempercantik dirimu. Pajangan untuk memperindah seisi dapur ini. Tapi, manusia-manusia itu, tidak sekali pun menyadari bahwa aku ada di atas sini. Aku ada untuk disaksikan kecantikanku."

Kulkas memandang ke atas kepalanya. Ia menemukan si mawar putih berlinangan air matanya. Entah datang dari mana air-air itu. "Kau boleh masuk ke dalam tubuhku untuk bergabung dengan bahan-bahan makanan. Para manusia itu pasti akan menyadari kehadiranmu."

Si mawar putih berpikir. Baginya, ide itu tidak buruk juga. Tapi, tidak cukup bagus juga. "Apakah aku bisa bertahan di dalam tubuhmu yang dingin itu?" 

Kulkas mengguncang lembut tubuhnya. "Jangan kuatir, aku berani jamin bahwa tidak akan ada satu pun kelopak maupun daun dari tubuhmu yang menderita karena dinginku. Mereka justru akan senang dengan perubahan suhu dari suhu kamar ke suhu tubuhku."

Setelah menimbang beberapa saat, si mawar putih pun meloncat dari singgasananya dan si kulkas menangkapnya dengan membuka pintu, lalu membuka laci sayur-sayuran yang terletak paling bawah. Mawar putih pun mendarat dengan sempurna di dalam laci itu. Meski merasa agak kedinginan, ia tidak keberatan setelah membayangkan bahwa nanti pagi, para manusia akan menyadari kehadirannya. Si mawar putih sudah tidak tahan dengan dinginnya kulkas. 

Pagi yang dinanti-nanti pun tiba. Para manusia bangun, membuat sarapan, tapi tidak satu pun yang ingin sarapan dengan sayur mayur. Akhirnya, pagi ini laci sayur pun tidak ada yang membuka. Mawar putih pun masih bercokol di sana. Ia masih sabar menanti hingga siang hari. Biasanya manusia akan membuat sayur bening untuk makan siang. Ternyata pada siang hari pun tidak ada yang ke dapur. Semua manusia sedang sibuk di luar rumah, berkegiatan masing-masing. Kali ini, si mawar putih sangat yakin bahwa akan ada manusia yang membuat makan malam dengan sayur mayur. Biasanya untuk lalapan. Namun, para manusia ternyata memilih untuk makan dengan delivery order. Kulkas pun tak tersentuh. Hal serupa terjadi selama beberapa hari, hingga mawar putih mulai kehilangan cantik rupanya. 

Setelah menunggu selama empat hari empat malam, akhirnya seorang manusia membuka laci sayur mayur untuk membuat sayur sop. Terkejutlah ia karena menemukan mawar putih yang telah kecoklatan kelopaknya dan layu daun-daunnya. Tidak habis pikir bagi si manusia itu, bagaimana setangkai mawar bisa nyasar bersama sayur-mayur. Si manusia pun mengambil tubuh dingin mawar putih dan membuangnya ke halaman belakang, bersama rerumputan dan bebatuan dekat kolam ikan yang berisik bunyi airnya.

Dalam tidur panjang si mawar putih, ia pun tersenyum. Penantian panjangnya akhirnya berakhir bahagia. Setidaknya, pada detik terakhir kehidupannya, seorang manusia datang untuk menyadari keberadaannya. Menyadari keberadaan tubuhnya yang perlahan menjelma ketidakberadaan. Si mawar putih belajar satu hal, bahwa kesadaran terhadap keberadaan, tidak semata-mata harus hadir pada saat keberadaan itu  terjadi. Bukankah ketidakberadaan juga merupakan bagian dari keberadaan?

Lima Babi Kecil

Suatu hari, ada lima babi kecil bersaudara yang sedang jalan-jalan ke tempat yang sangat dingin. Mereka bermalam di sebuah kandang kecil yang harus muat diisi berlima selama lima hari. Ada yang mengeluh dingin, ada yang mengeluh kelaparan tiap saat, ada yang mengeluh sulit bergerak dan ada yang mengeluh rindu rumah. Babi paling bungsu adalah satu-satunya yang tidak mengeluh tentang apa pun. Ia diam saja sepanjang jalan menuju tempat dingin, hingga saat telah tiba di sana.

Suatu malam, ketika kakak-kakaknya pergi keluar kandang untuk cari pakan, si bungsu memilih untuk tinggal di kandang. Ia ingin sendirian untuk sementara waktu. Ia ingin membaca buku untuk mengetahui caranya kabur dari kandang yang sempit itu. Setelah membaca buku beberapa lama, akhirnya ditemukanlah suatu cara untuk kabur, yaitu dengan pura-pura sakit. Sakitnya si bungsu akan membuat kakak-kakaknya khawatir. Kekhawatiran itu akan membuat kakak-kakaknya merasa bersalah, karena telah membawa si bungsu ikut ke kandang yang sempit bersama mereka. Akhirnya si bungsu pun akan dibawa kembali ke kandangnya yang nyaman dan luas. Itulah rencana yang tergambar di benak si bungsu.

Tapi tak lama kemudian, kakak-kakak si bungsu tiba di kandang. Mereka menemukan adik mereka terkapar di atas tumpukan jerami karena perutnya sakit. Padahal, kakak-kakak telah menyiapkan makanan yaitu berupa roti bakar isi coklat.

"Kamu kenapa adikku?" tanya kakak pertama.

"Masuk angin, kak," jawab si bungsu.

"Ya sudah kamu makan saja dulu roti ini. Kami belikan spesial untukmu," sahut kakak kedua.

"Habis ini pakai minyak angin supaya mendingan." Kakak ketiga sibuk mencari-cari minyak angin di tumpukan jerami.

Kakak keempat diam saja, tapi mengusap-usap punggung si bungsu.

"Aku ingin pulang, tidak ingin tinggal di tempat ini. Tempat ini menyiksaku." Si bungsu memohon-mohon pada kakaknya, masih terlentang di jerami. Tak tega melihat adiknya menderita, para kakak pun mengiyakan keinginam si adik. Namun, malam ini mereka harus tinggal di tempat sempit itu dulu.

Si bungsu merasa semakin menderita. Ia tidak sanggup tidur di tempat itu. Malam hari, ketika para kakaknya tidur, ia pun memutuskan untuk keluar dari kandang yang kecil itu. Ia ingin bertemu dengan laron yang ramai di ilalang dekat kandangnya.

"Aku ingin kau membantuku enyah dari kandang ya menyebalkan itu. Kandang yang kakak-kakakku pun tak suka. Mereka tetap mengatakan hal-hal buruk tentang kandang itu, tapi mereka tetap saja tinggal di sana.  Aku punya rencana untuk melakukan sesuatu dengan kandang itu. Tapi tak bisa kulakukan sendiri."

Para laron, sambil tetap terbang dan menyala-nyala, menanggapi si bungsu. "Apa yang bisa kami lakukan?"

Si bungsu pun mendekat pada para laron. Mereka berdiskusi tentang rencana si bungsu. Mereka pun tiba kembali di kandang babi dengan membawa minyak tanah. Ribuan laron mengepung kandang babi, lalu mengeluarkan percikan api dari pantat mereka. Si bungsu menumpahkan jirigen minyak tanah, sehingga menyulut api yang menghujami kandang. Tak perlu waktu lama untuk menyaksikan kandang bersama empat kakaknya, terkepung dalam api yamg menari-nari. Sempat terdengar jeritan dari para kakak si bungsu, sebelum suaranya hilang dan musnah ditelan api.

"Kerja bagus, kawan-kawan," kata si bungsu pada para laron. "Aku jengah dengan mereka yang hanya mengeluh, tapi tidak melakukan apa pun untuk kehidupan mereka. Setidaknya aku lebih baik dari mereka, karena memilih bertindak dalam diam."

"Tapi kau bilang mereka sangat cemas padamu saat kau pura-pura sakit."

"Aku benci kecemasan mereka. Mereka hanya pura-pura."

Lima Sekawan

Suatu hari, ada lima sekawan yang berbagi pembicaraan tentang pekerjaan dan kuliah lanjutan. Pembicaraan berlangsung sengit dan membingungkan. Selama pembicaraan, salah satu dari mereka yang bernama A, sedang berjuang dalam badai halilintar yang terjadi di kepalanya. Si A ini, kenal dengan Z yang setiap hari berkutat di depan layar yang menyala-nyala untuk menghasilkan berlembar-lembar kisah dongeng. Gara-gara Z, A ingin juga punya pekerjaan seperti itu.

"Aku ingin hanya duduk dan punya dongeng sepertimu, apakah aku bisa?" tanya A saat pertama kali ia bertemu Z.

"Tentu saja kau bisa. Kau hanya perlu berdarah-darah selama bertahun-tahun. Setelah itu, kau bisa merasakan nikmatnya darahmu." Z menjelaskan sambil membenahi letak kacamatanya yang menantang nyala layar di hadapannya.

"Tapi teman-temanku tidak ada yang ingin jadi sepertimu," kata Z.

"Dan.. Apa kau peduli dengan itu?"

A mengangkat bahu. "Aku ingin tidak peduli, tapi tak bisa."

Z memutar bola matanya, melanjutkan kegiatan dengan layarnya yang berpendar dan menghiraukan A. Z tidak ingin ikut campur dalam urusan anak baru lulus yang bingung ini itu. Hidupnya sudah terlampau nyaman untuk diusik oleh hal-hal semacam itu.

"Katakan apa yang harus kulakukan," desak A.

"Dengar anak muda, di dunia ini tidak ada yang peduli apa kau akan hidup untuk menghidupi mimpi-mimpimu, atau tidak hidup sama sekali. Jadi, kau yang putuskan. Jangan libatkan aku." Z beranjak dari singgasananya, meninggalkan A sebatang kara dengan kecamuk di dalam kepalanya.

Tak berapa lama kemudian, Y menghampiri A. Mereka pun berbincang.

"Apa yang membuatmu gundah gulana?" tanya Y.

"Apa yang membuatmu berpikir bahwa aku gundah gulana?" A malah balik bertanya. "Aku benci saat orang berpikir bahwa aku gundah gulana."

"Mungkin ini saatnya kau menyadari bahwa mimpi-mimpimu itu pantas untuk ditanggalkan. Seperti aku, kutanggalkan semua yang membebani pundakku. Begitu lega, begitu menyenangkan."

Diangkatnya kaki ke atas meja, disandarkan tubuhnya dan dinikmati setiap tarikan napasnya.

Beberapa saat kemudian, A kembali bersama lima sekawannya. Ia ingin bicara, tapi ada yang memotong lidahnya. Hanya Tuhan yang tahu apa yang akan ia bicarakan. Lidahnya pun tak tahu pemiliknya akan bicara apa.