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
Monday, January 14, 2013
Saturday, January 12, 2013
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?