A Moment

Dear, you.

Remember those moments you wished so hard to grow up? Just so them adults would listen to what you ought to say instead of their usual reply, "you're just a kid, so shut up." And what did you do? You act tough and stuffs, pretending that you were strong enough, though the fact was you were too weak, even just to fall in love.

So I leaned toward you, close enough so you could hear, "I'm just a moment, so don't let me pass you by," I whispered you clear. But you chose to be deaf, thought that I was one of your fears. You tried, fought, and got rid of me, not letting me get any nearer.

What happened right after was all things went too fast. You fell in and out of love, ended up breaking your own heart for those promises that won't last. You chose to grow up before those young blood in your veins left. You walked chin-up ahead, not looking back, so I let you passed. It was your choice, do not forget, so why do you nag? You complain about the moments lost and how you feel like you were losing the track. Now that you have your wish granted, you said you'd trade everything just to have your childhood back? ...Don't make me laugh!

Childhood... Those days you spent with nothing but having fun. What now, you think being in school is better than paying those bills, collecting money by the time the sun shines until there comes dawn? You used to think sleeping-time is unnecessary but now that your routines made you stay awake at night, all that you want to do is run. You spend your time complaining without a will to move on, a will to accept your guilt and to carry on. You said that it feels like having the back of your head attached to a gun, but you never say "game on".

One day you'll wake up and realize just how many times you have wasted and how many moments have flied. You'll wake up and realize the wrinkles on your cheeks and the dark marks under your eyes. You'll wake up and realize that all these times, all that you do was running away from your own life, a life that you should have enjoyed...but you let me passed you by. Now face your consequences because I have to say goodbye.

Sincerely,

Your moment.

Okay? Okay

I promise this will be the last time for me to complain about everything for the rest of 2014. Maybe it's right. Maybe I feel this way because I have been complaining too much. Right after this post, I have promised myself not to complain about anything anymore. But until then, and for now, let me just question these...

Is being safe enough?

Is it okay to live not the way I'd plan it to be, not the way I want it to be, and leave the wicked dreams of mine for some normal things that might probably be the best answer to my needs?

Is wishing for something more, more of everything, means that I'm not being thankful enough?

Is dreaming of something people would go like "that's impossible" and go with it anyway is wrong?

Is blaming myself for being a coward not to take any action is normal?

Is having a safe routine and wanting for some extreme ones is abnormal?

Is ignoring my dream the right thing to do?

And does that mean walking away is wrong?

Is staying where I am right now and seeing others achieving their goals okay?

Is being jealous and envious fair for them and for me?

Which should I go with, living for others or for myself?

Does staying in the same lines, box, and zone make me a hero?

Does that make me selfless?

And does stepping outside the old lines, box, and zone make me a villain?

Does that make me selfish?

Is being loyal a curse, and being a scaredy-cat a blessing?

Is it ungrateful to not be satisfied with what I have and ask for more?

Is writing this shitty?

Am I being a total bitch right now?

Do you think I'm exaggerating this way?

Is it really okay not to be okay?

Because I'm not.

E-certificate

It's arrived! The e-certificate that was promised to be sent to me for being one of the 150 chosen contributors for Poetry Praire's poem anthology is arrived! I like the simplicity of its look, though I'd like it more if it's white and classic with italic letters, stuffs like that. But hey, who am I to request? Hahaha. I'll be sharing more about the anthology book once it's arrived at my house. It'll be the first book ever published in the book store with my name written in it. I feel proud of myself, and that is definitely a trigger to keep me writing, and writing, and writing more!

PS: I hope I'd be able to write more poems though, but the situation nowadays prevent my mind to romanticize words as it used to be able to. But I'll try. 'Till the next post, invisible readers, see you!

Writing

It is a way to let out what you have in mind without the need to shout. It is a way to let everyone knows about how you really feel or think without the need to speak up. It is a way to cry out in pain, laugh in happiness, or just awkwardly say something about being a misfit. It's the simplest way to be yourself, and to introduce yourself to the world. It is a way to make people finally turn toward you, recognize you, without the need to make a sound, and no sound at all. 

Always

I couldn't remember clearly the first sentence you said to me after the sweet "hello". I guess I was too busy calming my pounding heart as we exchanged a smile to each other.

I couldn't recall completely what movie we first watched together or the colors of the clothes we wore. Maybe I was too nervous to say a word as you linked our fingers together.

But I bet one day, when I even forget about your best friend's name and our special dates as we grow old, I will always remember how you make my cold heart warm and my winter a summer.

“I’ve learned that people will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel.”

— Maya Angelou (via observando)

Again, a random post

Inspired by a post randomly found

First Anthology-Book Contribution!

So this was all started when my college friend, Manda and I had a talk about her mentor at her previous office. “She writes a lot of poems and short stories, like us! And she even got some of her works published in the form of a book of anthology!” She said to me one night when we texted. Having my writing published has always been in my bucket list, and I really-really want it come true. So I asked Manda further about how her mentor did it, and she answered, “An internet competition. Whoever wins got their writings published in a book, along with a certain amount of money, of course.”

So the very next day at the office, I used my lunch-break to research about such competition, using some lame keywords like “lomba puisi menang jadi buku” and “lomba puisi dibukukan”, things like that. It brought me to this page, where an event on-going was described briefly. It was a poem-writing competition, with no particular theme, and may be written both in Indonesian and English. Considering my very very bad Indonesian (despite the fact that it’s my mother-tongue language), I decided to join for the English category. Each participant was allowed to submit up to five of their writings (which may have been published but shouldn’t be submitted for any different event at the same time), so I chose five among all the romantic-shit and gloomy-mess I wrote on my blog (because I was too muse-less to write a new one at that time). I ended up choosing Romeo & Juliet, I Miss You, The Call, Best Friends, and Us, which you can still view here on my blog.

The first announcement was made at (if I’m not mistaken) June 1st, and among all 1.170s poems submitted by varies of people 290 were chosen to continue to the next selection and 3 of them were mine! The poems that got selected were Romeo & Juliet, The Call, and Best Friends. I have no exaggerating-hope of to win the first for the English category and thinking, “being a contributor for the book would be enough. At least I got my works published, finally.”

The next (and final) announcement was on June 5th here, and among the last 290 poems, only 150 would be published in the book. Guess what. My name’s in the list, along with Romeo & Juliet and The Call! KYAAA! I didn’t win anything, not money, not free published-prove book, and so’s and so’s and on and on, but MY GODDAMN POEMS WILL BE RELEASED IN A BOOK. AREN’T I STOKED? ISN’T IT RAD?! I was more than happy to have the news! If only my friend Manda (and Sarah too, bad-me forgot to tell her any bit of it otl) joined, she (or they) would have won one of the categories. Manda’s Indonesian literature-style language is heavenly good, and Sarah’s vocabulary for English poems is spectacular.

I hope I will be accidentally “encountered” with such event again, might as well post them here on my blog for my friends to see. I will tell you more about the book when it’s done edited, printed, and delivered to my house. ‘Till then, we’ll just talk about something else.

Q’s out!