secarik kertas luntur

it was soaked up while i was riding my bike through one rainy day, with the rest of what-my-wallet-contains inside and all was perfectly wet. however it surely is a time-capsule treasure is it not?

so then i began to recall that moment as a third person view. watching myself drowned deeply into books and several notes. waiting for a clumsy yet reckless woman who usually appears at her sexiest visage while sit and work behind the desk, randomly asking for random distractions whatsoever.

couple hours later and there you were. showing your biggest and most sincere apologetic smile even though we both knew that was unnecessary. frankly i was hoping your train get stuck longer so i can finish that article. but that's not favorable either… 

this is the first memorabilia (others said memorabilia but i prefer to add "i" in the middle somehow),
and counting---

dear lady behind the desk,
you're welcome.

hitung mundur


apa kabar?

ia tersenyum. singkat.

terima surat-suratku?

ia mengangguk.

sebagai gantinya, aku mengernyit


tidak tahu cara membalasnya. aku terlalu bahagia, untuk pertama kalinya.

aku terkesiap. tidak siap.

ternyata dinding-dinding di sekitarku tidak hanya menyimpan serotonin. mereka menjelma seumpama barikade yang mendompleng utopia-utopia kolektif dari luar sana. menjelma voltaire, menjelma goebbels yang satirnya baru dapat kumengerti setelah berulang kali dibuai ilusi melalui derik-derik besi. mereka, dinding-dinding ini, ternyata konfigurator ulung. dan aku benar-benar beruntung.

aku bergeming. aku, atau dia yang kalimatnya terdengar sinting?

ah, singkat cerita, aku bebas.

emosiku meruncing. mataku memicing. pedas.

jangan salah paham. aku tidak akan kembali.


jelas sudah bahwa dia yang resmi mulai sinting. ini salahku karena terlalu mengandalkan surat menyurat. seharusnya dari dulu kuhampiri dia langsung, seperti sekarang.

tapi coba untuk benar-benar paham: apa yang membedakan kita berdua selain dinding-dinding ini? aku manusia bebas. kamu? tidak.

aku mengernyit. lagi.

kamu akan memperolehnya dengan cara lain. suatu waktu, akan tiba saatnya kebebasan datang padamu. mengulurkan tangannya yang mungkin berupa dinding, mungkin juga tidak. mungkin menyakitkan, mungkin menenangkan. sebab ia merangkum distingsi setipis komedi dan tragedi. sayangnya, tidak semua orang punya cukup nyali untuk tertawa. kebanyakan lebih memilih untuk berkompromi. memilih untuk mengerti ketimbang merasa.


aku bergeming. khayalanku, atau benar senyumnya semakin tersungging?

sampai bertemu. ingatlah selalu bahwa kebebasan menunggu, mengintai, sambil menertawakan raut wajahmu yang ragu-ragu.

K R I I I I N G !!!

pintu besi di belakangku terbuka. memuntahkan tiga sipir yang menyeret rantai mata kaki. menggeretnya keluar ruangan…

…menuju bilik eksekusi mati.

overdosis parasetamol

jika merayapi garis waktu ke belakang -entah bagaimana-

sebab kita menghitung mundur, juga laju selesat waktu, sadar maupun tidak.
kita tergesa tak kuasa tergoda menghitung pacunya, desaknya, tuntutnya.

dan waktu menjadi montase linear yang mulur, dan serta merta kita nobatkan sebagai hakim tinggi maha jujur. dengan hak prerogatif manakala waktu seringkali menjadi tepat justru ketika seorang tidak tepat waktu. 

lalu, jika saya, anda, kita merayapi garis waktu ke belakang, sambil meratapi garis waktu ke belakang,
entah bagaimana cara berkompromi dengan waktu

entah bagaimana...


"how do you define vengeance?

i've heard some people define smile as the best revenge. while on the contrary, some other also say that revenge is a meal best served cold.

by considering those words as an undone verdict,
then it's never about the definition, nor the way to express it. but how does vengeance -that lies beyond your deepest feeling- have the significant potential towards one's action.

regardless of the possible outcomes, vengeance does motivate you to do something. it drives you unto a certain-yet-unkown destination. and before you know it, you set yourself on a so-called distinctive journey. again, with or without expectations.

so i guess it's okay to be a vengeful person.


arrival gate has the magic to wholly took your sight. it asks for your patience. it says that you don't have to panic. stay calm, the person you've been waiting for is just about to appear before your very eyes. they're just around the corner. all you have to do is be more patient. and perhaps this is what we usually refer as the art of waiting.

until the magic begins.
one after another, people start passing through the gate. but the person you've been waiting for is none among them. clock ticks, footsteps passing nearby, yet they're not coming into view.

and you start to panic.

so that's a little story about a magic gate that do exist in every airport hall. a gate that utterly took your sight and asks for your patience. a gate that makes you wait from time to time, even though there's no one to be expected. a gate that allusively makes you believe,

that every person, is worth waiting for.

v o y a g e

to be cremated is still my most preferable option. but lately i've been thinking another method.

have you ever thought to die in the outer space? to float along with perpetual quietness while running out of breath, swallowed by the astounding gaze of the universe, trapped inside your thick space-suit in which interconnected with a music player, as the earth is watching you drifting upside down further, serenely, slowly?

you might think "it sounds rough to die in such a harmful way like that".

in that case, the key to prevent such agony is by adding some anesthetic inside the oxygen-tank. ergo you'll feel nothing but a liitle drowsy or tired, and before you even realize it, you'll die in your most peaceful rest.

we all know that earth is getting crowded by the total number of human population. every hour every minute people die and babies born simultaneously, besides there's not much space left for building another cemetery. that's why i humbly ask you to consider this as an alternative way to die.

i shall ask once more

"would you like to die in the outer space?

international sanatarium and asylum centre

and what about that old man?

oh, he's one amongst our special cases. almost incurable and nothing we could do till this moment.

like a mad serial killer? manic butcher or something like that?

well… sort of.

sort of?

he never killed anyone. yet he keep mumbling how he heard voices that ordered him to kill his son.

so the son is still alive?

no. he never had any.

poor gramps. i think he doesn't have much time left.

seems so.

what's his name?

we have no idea. but to simplify it, he's been diagnosed with alzheimer, bipolar-disorder, rampant-behavior, anxiousness, hyperactive, alter-transcending-minded, and malicious-bearing.

gee… that's a lot.

and even more simple, just call him a-b-r-a-h-a-m.



this facility is called isaac.