Forgiving myself

I was driving home when my Spotify started playing a song from when I used to date my first boyfriend. Listening to those songs used to send shiver down my spine, but it weirdly got me smiling, reminiscing just how fucking dumb we both were. Looking back, maybe I wouldn’t date me either, so catastrophic! Haha I am not saying he did not make mistakes as well though, we both made mistakes, we both moved on.

I suddenly felt proud, like I had just grown another inch in the ladder of wisdom lol. I actually found it funny, how crazy was I! I spent the last few minutes driving home laughing while reminiscing those moments. I used to think that I had forgiven them and that was enough, turned out I needed to forgive myself first for it to be really okay. I used to be that girl tweeting if I were you I would never let me go yo bitch get off your high horse?! Like right now I can actually think of when did I go wrong. It was like watching YouTube videos of your mistakes while sipping Kirks Creamy Cotton Candy (I am currently addicted to this) and giving commentaries (or mockeries, tbh), accepting that you were at fault as well. This is big for me. I won’t say I am a Leo it would be terror to get me to admit I make mistakes but I did once think my damage was minimum. I used to think I had done everything I could. No surprises here, I did not. I had issues, I know.

Well, the past is a past. This came to my mind at a one random day and it was gone before I even parked my car. I missed my blog this arvo, and I recalled I had this epiphany that I thought would be great being written here. Please do not remind me of any pregnancy-motherhood related posts I said I would but I did not, remember people make mistakes and I am 100% human.

How do I say this?

If you ask me to explain it, I won’t be able to do so because to be honest, I don’t understand it myself.

It’s the feeling you have 5 minutes after you drive away from home just to start thinking have you turned off gas before you leave, have you turned that hair straightener off, have you actually closed the door, and all of a sudden all you want to do is just drive back and double check everything even though you know, you did double check everything before you leave.

It’s the feeling when you are just so happy and content with your job in the morning, but all of a sudden you are struck by the thoughts maybe this is not right for me, maybe I actually mess up but they just do not care to tell me, why do I work here and you have to sleep away those thoughts because it usually comes to drafting a resignation email even though you basically make no mistake, at all.

It’s the feeling when you see your bestfriends are hanging out together and you know you can’t actually attend because you are zillion miles away from them but like, what if they start talking about me and just decide to throw me away from the circle because something unreasonable for me but totally makes sense for them?

It’s like when you constantly feel those above combined every day, every hour.

Still my favourite muse


You know, whenever I try to write something sad, I am reminiscing the moments when you broke my heart and threw it on the floor. I don’t know why; I think no one ever fucked me up like you. It has always been you.

I am feeling like giving you a trophy for ‘the biggest heartbreak – still’

Still. Even after all these years.

I think a part of our memories never goes away – it sits in the dark corner of our hearts, waiting for the right moment to suddenly appear (or by request – like I always did when I wanted something to write) and drown me into the phase where I could not breathe, nor open my eyes, because it really hurts, still, even after all these years.

People say who gives a fuck about their first loves and everyone should cherish the second love because it makes you believe in love again. The thing is, nothing compares your first, and usually biggest, heartbreak. That feeling when someone stepped on your perfect depiction of love and left you feeling betrayed by the concept of forever. Why do people love when it is going to end anyway?

I was a naive girl, moving out to the city, carrying your love only to watch you took back everything that was supposed to be my ultimate support system. Until now, I cannot help but wondering was it also hurt for you as well? Did you miss me like I missed you in every breath I took? Did you cry yourself to sleep like I did? Did you go to class with swollen eyes and lifeless body? Did you stare at your phone, wishing you could call me just to know what was I doing? Did you do things I did?

Did you know that I had many sleepless nights and I practically begged my friends to sleep over because I was too scared of being alone?

I guess you did not.

Those pains were too real to vanish without leaving scars, and I can honestly say it still haunts. It may not hurt anymore, but the memories are latched onto me and I cannot seem to breathe everytime it appears.

That is why you’d make such a good muse.

Well I guess, thank you is in order. And, also, fuck you.


This is how it feels to lose something that wasnt even here to begin with

I got my hopes up.

I knew there was an equal chance for me to either have one or lose one. I, as a realistic, had no idea what to wish for, but the problem was I knew what I wished for. And I got my hopes up.

And as we all know, hope is a dangerous thing.

I still remembered the day where I first heard the news. At that moment, it all seemed vague and was hard to swallow. I began to think of the possibilities and the more I did, the more it seemed to be wonderful. The pros clearly outweighed the cons. I could already image what would be of me in the next year, in the next five years, and in the next forever. I fell in love with the imagination without keeping one of my feet into the reality.

And Monday came. It started with a rough morning and afterwards, things were moving in a slower speed, making it seemed like life wanted me to suffer longer. And I did. I cried all afternoon, and just this early morning, I woke up in the dawn crying my eyes out without even remembering what dream I had that brought me to this emotional turbulence.

How I wished things were different if only I had known.

If only. The two words kept resonating in my head like a broken stereo. Of all things I did recklessly, this unplanned silly thing was the worst, I mean, IS the worst. I did not know why I was using past tense in this writing because it still haunts me. it still brings the worst. it still aches. 



Maafkan, karena saya menulis.

Mungkin kamu benci tulisan saya. Mungkin kata-kata ini membangkitkan rasa muak yang ada di kamu, yang akan selalu ada, tidak perduli bagaimanapun keadaannya, tidak perduli bagaimana saya merasa bahwa ini semua sungguh tidak adil. Kamu menelan tulisan saya yang seperti racun, namun saya menelan racun yang sesungguhnya. Racun yang kamu paksakan masuk ke jantung saya, yang mengalir deras ke seluruh tubuh saya. Tidak perlu saya ungkapkan betapa sakitnya, saya yakin kamu tidak akan pernah sekalipun mengerti dan perduli tentang kerusakan apa yang kamu ciptakan di diri saya.

Kerusakan, iya, kamu merusak. Saya rusak. Yang paling saya rasakan adalah kamu merusak kepercayaan diri saya sendiri. Kamu membuat saya merasakan menjadi orang yang tidak pantas diberi cinta. Saya rusak. Mereka membenahi saya, namun kerusakan yang kamu berikan seperti kanker. Iya. DIbenahi di satu bagian, lalu muncul di bagian lain. Saya benci menjadi rusak seperti ini. Namun tidak sebesar rasa benci saya ke kamu, yang akan tetap menyala seperti kobar api karna mengikuti sifat kerusakan yang kamu berikan: permanen.

Maafkan, karena saya menulis.

Hanya kata-kata yang saya punya. Saya tidak bisa merusak kamu dengan perbuatan seperti apa yang selalu menjadi sebuah keahlian dari kamu; yang dulu saya kira sudah tidak akan keluar lagi. Saya tidak sampai hati untuk merusak kamu, tidak akan pernah sampai hati. Saya ingin, ingin sekali melihat kamu terjatuh dan terinjak, menggeletak lalu rusak. Namun saya sadar, hal itu juga membunuh saya. Sungguh saya benci kebodohan saya, mereka juga benci kebodohan saya. Saya pun muak dengan kebodohan saya, yang selalu menempatkan saya di posisi rusak seperti sekarang. Namun rasa muak itu tidak cukup keras bagi saya untuk menjadi pintar, tidak seperti rasa muak kamu yang lebih dari cukup untuk pergi meninggalkan apa yang kamu mulai.

Maafkan, karena saya menulis.

Kamu selalu bisa menjadi objek favorit saya, karena kamu memunculkan segala hal dari diri saya; yang terbaik dan terburuk. Tahukah? Pedulikah? Tidak, saya rasa. Saya hanya berharap suatu saat hidup menampar kamu dan rasa sakitnya setara dengan rasa sakit yang saya rasakan sekarang. Seperti menaruh tumbuhan menjalar di dinding yang penuh dengan pecahan kaca, jika saya mau menuju matahari maka saya harus melewati pecahan kaca tersebut.

Saya rusak.

Perasaan saya berserakan, sebagian tertinggal di kota kita, dan kota kamu.

Dan mungkin terbawa kamu.

Maafkan, karena saya menulis, saya tidak tahu apa lagi yang harus saya lakukan.

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