Wednesday, December 25, 2013


If there’s one thing I loathe more than myself is the fact love exist.
How is this feeling even here in my life for I have never even felt warmth around my very own mother?
I can no longer tell when she’s proud of me or even when she loves me for who I am.
She always speculates all these bizarre things about me, and because of that I couldn’t even learn to love myself.
How hard it is to even look at yourself in the mirror and not believe in who you are because your very own mother yanked out your beating heart.
She’s perfect but is perfection really what’s essential?
You know the saying; the quest for money is a hollow journey.
But then again, maybe love is important after all.
How can you begin to love another being, if you don’t even love yourself?

16 December 2013

Thursday, August 1, 2013

Heartwarming Words From A Dear Friend Of Mine

Hi Bel!
Jadi sebenernya gue sadar lo ultah dari midnight tapi I thought it would be too mainstream dan lo kan indie and I suppose you don’t like mainstream things HAHA.

Ini bakal agak jijik dan I don’t know why I’m doing this but to be honest, I just feel the urge to write this as a small token of gratitude for our friendship.

So, okay here we go.
You and your love for literature are two things that may never be separated. I have said this several times and I’m sure you're probably sick to the stomach upon hearing this yet again. You do really have a way with words. The way you eloquently form your sentences out of phrases, the way you spill your vivid imagination into writings, the way you make me jealous every time you ask me to comment on your articulately written blog post.

A lot of people can have perfect grammar and wide range of vocabulary. Those are just the tools, yet without the creativity that you have, those skills will simply be abstract thoughts lingering to be formed into constellations. You are an aspiring writer, and I know that maybe later in life when I’m checking out the best seller section in a book store one of your books will be there!

You are two personalities crammed into one soul. Sometimes you can be a melancholic person but at times you can be humorous and entertaining to talk to. A little melancholy is good as it can act as a little paint to your writer’s canvas or seasoning to your homemade meal of letters but remember, be careful because too much will turn you into a vulnerable grenade waiting to burst into a million pieces. You balance your dark side with the hilarious and embarrassing everyday actions and sometimes failed attempts at telling jokes.

You are a great dancer, a sympathetic listener, an emotionally mature person (despite the occasional tumbles in life which is perfectly normal) and someone I can lean on through the good and bad times.

And on this very day,
You, the aspiring writer, the melancholic soul, the self proclaimed class clown, the great dancer, the sympathetic listener, the emotionally mature person, my shoulder to lean on is……TURNING 16!!

So… HAPPY SWEET 16 BELLA!!! May 16 bring you the best life has to offer and become a year when you start to make your dreams come true. May you be blessed with joy and hope. May you always have the strength to face whatever challenges life throws at you!

-Farisa Machmud

Saturday, May 25, 2013

Dreamers by Ted Hughes

We didn't find her - she found us.
She sniffed us out.
She sat there
Slightly filthy with erotic mystery.
I saw the dreamer in her
Had fallen in love with me and she did not know it.
That moment the dreamer in me
Fell in love with her, and I soon knew it

Saturday, May 18, 2013

The You?niverse

Here I lay helplessly as I try to count the stars sparkling with such grace on a melodramatic sky. Have you ever wondered who sprinkled them there? Or do they just come out of nowhere?

And as for tonight there's this one star that just couldn't stop grabbing my attention. It's bright and it looks like as if it's not too far from here. But truthfully it's a few light-years away from the tip of my forehead. And I feel like I could reach that star and tug it under my pillow, give it warmth that lacks in the outer space.

Then again its years from where I stand.

Funny how empty space could make us think that things that supposedly lay thousands of miles from us is just standing bare on top of our heads.
Maybe it's the way we view things, that humans tend to simplify and choose to ignore the complicated facts behind just about everything.
But, then again I could be wrong.

I've always wondered what it feels like to live billions of light-years away from something or, someone; how such a tremendous space exists.
It is though, the real distance of where we live to planets out there that we haven’t discovered yet. Imagine knowing someone who lives that far.

But then again, we don't seem to know a lot about people in neighboring countries or even our very own neighbor who lives right across the street.

Well, how about you? How many years do you stand from this very moment? How many more years will it take to finally meet the love of my life?             
I know this seems silly and I'm shouting into the darkness here. 
But I really do want to know, 
I really do. 

Sunday, May 12, 2013

Recent Thoughts

"I'm not sad, I’m happy. I feel like I’m happy because I’m at peace with the way that things are... I did have a darker filter on sometimes, but that slowly lifted through doing a lot of different things. And finding true love is something that really did inspire me, lyrically. Because I felt so much the same for so much of my life and then when you find someone exciting, you don’t know that you could actually feel differently than you did before. I was inspired"
-Lana Del Rey
You inspired me Lizzy

Thursday, May 9, 2013

Like Tasting Defeat for Dessert

Like Tasting Defeat for Dessert

by Nabilla Utami

So you say life’s a drag but you've only been living a few seconds outside of your mother’s warmth. You haven’t taste the slightest bitterness of “life” I presume? And yet here you are complaining as if you were going to explode in mere seconds and your head would be a fine piece of art, hanging on top of my bookshelf. And your tangerine skin turned pale red, as if there was such a color as pale red. Your screeching voice, echoed through the hollow halls of this deserted asylum and your cries, desperately trying to fight its way out.

I know this is not the dream but it’s not too bad once you get used to it. The painful needle would only sting once and that… won’t probably be enough. Once you’re here, you would kill for freedom. And I might as well tell you, freedom feels like a heavy bag of all your sins.

It is now time for them to hold you down with that big belt that’s probably never been washed since the last time a person has spilled his darkest secret, and his internal organs. You keep on shouting, and helplessly throwing kicks into mid-air, thinking it will free you somehow. But it just won’t work. Shouts of mercy comes flying from your mouth as they try to shove “the system” down your throat.

Its noon and the pain is now unspeakable. Tears crawl slowly from those emerald eyes of yours, as if they’re trying not to wake you up. But you’re not going to wake up.
You’re not.

You lay there, tired.
Tired of carrying all these things you've been keeping to yourself.
All these things you could never share to anyone else, because they just wouldn't understand.

You carefully peek through your now-soggy eyes, trying hard not to make a sound.

Your hands shiver while you grab the mug that’s been sitting a while beside your bed.

You take a sip, and finally tasted defeat.

Sunday, April 21, 2013


Sebuah cerpen oleh Nabilla Utami

Semua terasa gelap.
Tidak telihat warna atau bahkan setitik cahaya pun.
Suara hembusan nafas pun tak ku dengar.
Hanya ada suara seperti pisau sedang beradu dengan garpu di atas piring.
Di pusat ruang dingin ini aku berbaring.

Aku tidak ingat bagaimana aku bisa berada di sini. Apa yang kulakukan, atau apa yang telah terjadi padaku. Mungkin, namaku saja telah kulupakan. Hanya ada beberapa potongan suatu kejadian yang sekarang mengambang di kepalaku. Berusaha mengingat kembali itu semua, luar biasa susahnya. Belum lagi sakit kepala yang sungguh tiada tara. Bagai berusaha bernostalgia di kala kau amnesia.

Namun aku merasa bahwa aku telah mengalami ini sebelumnya. Rasa ini, kegelapan ini, dingin ini, bahkan hilangnya ingatanku pun sudah tidak asing lagi. Namun siapakah aku untuk membuat kesimpulan, sedangkan aku pun tidak ingat namaku sendiri?

Hanyalah sebuah sentuhan yang kuingat betul. Bukan seperti sentuhan secara fisik tetapi, lebih ke jiwa. Ada sesuatu yang telah menyentuh jiwaku begitu dalam, sehingga perasaan ini tak bisa kulupakan. Suatu benda mungkinkah? Apa seseorang? Siapakah yang telah datang ke hidupku ini dan membuatku merasa seperti ini?

Siapakah orang itu? Apakah dia yang selalu datang di mimpi – mimpiku ini? Dia yang menyebut namaku begitu indahnya, sedangkan aku pun lupa siapa namaku. Dia yang memberiku kehangatan sekaligus rasa takut akan kehilangan dirinya. Dia yang mengenalkanku kepada dunia yang penuh dengan kebahagiaan. Dia dengan sentuhannya itu.

Apa mungkin semua ini bukanlah mimpi namun merupakan bagian dari ingatanku? Tapi, jika pun ini merupakan hidup ku sebelumnya, mengapa ingatanku samar – samar tentang apa yang terjadi pada dirinya? Kemanakah lelaki itu pergi menghilang membawa cintaku begitu saja? Apakah dia tidak kasihan dengan diriku yang sekarang melarat dalam kebingungan?

Aku sangat ingin tahu apa yang terjadi padanya, dan kenapa ingatanku akan dia hanya sampai situ saja? Mengapa tidak ada lanjutan dari kisah kita?

Apa mungkin..



Tidak mungkin itu dia

Itu….. hanyalah sebuah mimpi buruk


“Dok dia telah sadar kembali,” kata sebuah suara di balik warna putih itu.

Aku pun terbangun, dan menyadari bahwa aku sedang berbaring diatas kasur yang nampaknya seperti di dalam ruangan rumah sakit. Dua pria dengan jas panjang berwarna putih, dan sebuah alat yang menggantung pada pundaknya, berjalan perlahan ke arahku.

“Tenangkan dirimu, kau akan baik – baik saja kok,” sahut salah satu dari mereka.

Aku berusaha untuk melihat sekelilingku, berharap ada satu/dua hal yang dapat mengingatkanku kembali. Aku melihat tangan kiriku dililit perban, dan tangan kananku penuh dengan luka kecil.

“Apa yang telah kulakukan?” pikirku.

Lalu, aku menyadari bahwa di samping tempat tidurku ada sebuah ranjang lagi dan disana terbaring tubuh seorang lelaki. Layar yang menandakan berakhir sudah atau belum kehidupannya, hanya bergaris lurus. Nyawa tubuh lelaki itu telah tiada.

“Siapa dia?” tanyaku pada pria berjas putih panjang ini.
“Kau tidak usah mengkhawatirkan dia, lupakan saja.”
“Iya, kau tidur saja kembali,” tambah salah satunya yang sekarang sedang memberiku semacam bius.

“Tapi, aku ingin tahu apa yang terjadi pada diri dia! Diriku! Tanganku! Semuanya! Mengapa aku bisa disini?? Dan siapakah kalian?!?!”
“Sudah, sudah. Lupakan saja semua. Semakin kau lupa, semakin hilang rasa sakitnya.”

Aku mulai merasakan bius itu berjalan cepat ke sekujur tubuhku.
“Coba tenangkan saja dirimu, lalu tidurlah kembali. Esok hari kau bangun, sudah hilang semua rasa sakit ini.”
“Iya, jangan sakiti diri kamu lagi ya.”
“Tuh dengar apa kata rekanku, biarkan saja kematian sendiri dengan urusannya. Tak usah kau ikut campur. Satu nyawa tak perlu disusul dengan satu lagi.”


Sekarang aku ingat semuanya. Bagaimana aku bisa berada disini, dan alasan mengapa ini semua sudah tidak asing lagi bagiku. Aku telah terbangun seperti ini beberapa kali sebelumnya dan aku selalu melihat lelaki itu berbaring di ranjang sampingku. Aku tahu dia siapa, dan aku tahu mengapa kita berada disini. Aku tahu bahwa lelaki disampingku ini meninggal akibat dari kecelakaan mobil yang dialaminya karena disaat itu ia sedang mengemudi sambil bertengkar dengan kekasihnya melalui telepon.

Setelah kecelakaan terjadi ambulans langsung membawa lelaki ini ke UGD terdekat, dan tak lama kemudian kekasihnya datang dengan air mata yang telah menggenangi setengah wajahnya. Penuh dengan rasa penyesalan dan kesedihan melihat lelaki yang ia cintai hendak menghembuskan nafas terakhirnya, perempuan ini mengambil benda tertajam yang bisa dia raih dan mulai mencelakai dirinya sendiri. Berharap dapat menyusul kekasihnya yang terbaring tak berdaya.

“Siapakah dia”
Aku bertanya.
“Siapakah diriku”
Engkau mungkin ingin tahu.

Tapi, apa yang semestinya kulakukan? Cinta bukankah dibawa sampai mati?

Lalu, obat bius itu mematikan seluruh tubuhku.

Sunday, March 3, 2013

Romansa di Tengah Hutan Belantara

Pagi datang dan bulan bersembunyi
Matahari terbangun dari dengkurannya
Lalu mengusap langit dengan kilauan fajar
Para manusia pun hidup kembali

Sebuah hutan di tengah kota

Sebuah hutan di antara kita
Apa yang telah memisahkan cinta?
Waktu? Jarak? Atau manusia?
Tragedi puitis dihanyutkan oleh masa

"Ini adalah sebuah romansa di tengah hutan belantara"

Begitu sahut mereka

Sekian ribu hari berlalu

Matahari dan bulan silih berganti menjamu bumi
Tiada yang tetap untuk selamanya
Tiada dusta yang akan berlangsung lama

"Ini adalah sebuah romansa di tengah hutan belantara"

Begitu sahut mereka

"Ini adalah sebuah distorsi cinta"

Begitu tersiksanya kita

- Nabilla Utami
20 Februari 2013

Monday, January 14, 2013

Happily Depressed

To my conclusion, it seems to me that I am struggling with depression. Or more like, living with depression since I don't really feel like I'm struggling with it.
I like it's company.
Depression keeps me occupied for a thought or two.

But sometimes I wonder, why do I feel this way?
Why do I constantly find myself drowning my joy into a painful thought of life, death, and all the other things in between?

I am not suffering from any chronic disease, nor any economical crisis. To be honest, the house I rest my head during the night is pretty nice. And the material pleasure that surrounds me during the day is, pleasurable.
Safe to say that my life looks perfect.

Perfection bores me.

I want my life to be an adventure, and as cliche as that sounds well it is the truth.
I long for the taste of freedom. But I'm finding myself more and more like a house pet each passing sunrise.

I'm afraid some day I'll wake up, not having the urge to seek freedom and finally surrendering to whatever it is that's always been tying me down.

Or maybe the blame for these sensitive moments are in the absence of a lover? (Here we go again, blaming love and all)

Well, there has been some days where I find myself wishing there was someone who I can call in the middle of the day just to tell them how beautiful the sunlight is and how I can't wait for the moon to come in during the night to match the sun's beauty.

But such person could only exist in my most childish thoughts. Because grown ups don't think about love, all they think about is 'how much money will I be taking home to my wife and kids tomorrow?' Well maybe that is some sort of love, but too often have these adults get trapped in such quest for material things that they tend to forget that true love lies from within.

What a depressing emotion that is

Saturday, January 12, 2013

Antologi Rasa

Antologi Rasa

karya Ika Natassa 

K e a r a
We're both just people who worry about the breaths we take, not how we breathe.
How can we be so different and feel so much alike, Rul?
Dan malam ini, tiga tahun setelah malam yang membuatku jatuh cinta, my dear, dan aku di sini terbaring menatap bintang-bintang di langit pekat Singapura ini, aku masih cinta, Rul. Dan kamu mungkin tidak akan pernah tahu.
Three years of my wasted life loving you.

R u l y
Yang tidak gue ceritakan ke Keara adalah bahwa sampai sekarang gue merasa mungkin satu-satunya momen yang bisa mengalahkan senangnya dan leganya gue subuh itu adalah kalau suatu hari nanti gue masuk ke ruangan rumah sakit seperti ini dan Denise sedang menggendong bayi kami yang baru dia lahirkan. Yang tidak gue ceritakan ke Keara adalah rasa hangat yang terasa di dada gue waktu suster membangunkan gue subuh itu dan berkata, "Pak, istrinya sudah sadar," dan bahwa gue bahkan tidak sedikit pun berniat mengoreksi pernyataan itu. Mimpi aja terus, Rul.

H a r r i s
Senang definisi gue: elo tertawa lepas. Senang definisi elo? Mungkin gue nggak akan pernah tahu. Karena setiap gue mencoba melakukan hal-hal manis yang gue lakukan dengan perempuan-perempuan lain yang sepanjang sejarah tidak pernah gagal membuat mereka klepek-klepek, ucapan yang harus gue dengar hanya, "Harris darling, udah deh, nggak usah sok manis. Go back being the chauvinistic jerk that I love."
That's probably as close as I can get to hearing that she loves me.

Tiga sahabat. Satu pertanyaan. What if in the person that you love, you find a best friend instead of a lover?