the art of overthinking

It cannot be more simple than it is — with life comes all these rapid changes pretty unexpectedly, whether it greets you loudly or tries to hide until you notice it approaching. These changes, while they come and go, can impact more than just yourself, and sooner than later you’ll find your entire surroundings shifting with you as you go.

I have talked about change in many perspectives, the inevitable changes, the ones you can deny but I never really considered the changes around me, not centered around myself but rather my loved ones. I have been around certain people for longer than I can remember, and I never imagined a course of life that might be temporary with them for I have always wanted them near.

When I think about my friends and how much we’ve changed both individually and together, I think of all the memories we promised we’d relive someday, one day when life is less busy and somehow more still and quiet. Some got jobs, some got engaged, and others got opportunities that lie elsewhere, somewhere not near but rather 3000 miles away.

You can understand something even if you can’t relate: those who get jealous of their friend’s accomplishments, no matter how big or small, always stem from a certain insecurity. It can be that they wish they would be in their place, to achieve what they couldn’t. These friends don’t wish you the best for they want the best for themselves.

What I can’t understand but relate to though, is how my friends make me the proudest for how successful and amazing they set themselves out to be. They have embarked on journeys of which I only dreamed of, and so I feel somewhat negative, that I couldn’t be as great as them. I find myself drowning in thoughts that have not just consumed me, but are the skin that I live in.

Knowledge is a big part of me, I know these feelings stem from closed doors and missed opportunities that were just not my call to take. Yet, with so much knowledge, I refute the misjudgments and cheer for my friends for I feel so proud to call them my loved ones, I just wonder if they are as proud of me.

I shoulder many burdens that life has gifted me — wrapped in blue, curled ribbons, wrapped in perfectly cut wrapping paper, somewhat picturesque. I carry these worries in commonality with those around me and those who aren’t. The art of overthinking is something I believe, unfortunately, has been mastered by many.

I imagine my successes are very different from others: my stories, my goals, and even the steps to achieve them. I never imagined what it would be like to feel unequal to those you love, even for a millisecond.

How to rid myself of these thoughts is something I’ve pondered about for a while, and with math equations, it’s clear-cut: 1+1=2. With irrational, and overwhelming thinking, it is more tangled. I promised myself to untangle it to avoid hurting myself, to not unintentionally hurt those that I love.

As humans, we are deemed to live life as differently as possible, for if we all lived the same story, we wouldn’t be promised greatness at all. Imagine the similar stories, the monotonous daily lives, how dull would it be to not cry sometimes and to choose to pick yourself up rather than succumb to your stressful thoughts about what life didn’t gift you?

I will cheer on their success as they cheer on mine, even if the voice in my head gets a little too loud sometimes, for I have also achieved many of what they couldn't. The greatness we carry lie in the way we respond to other’s successes, for we fail to acknowledge that this life is not promised for us the way that we desire, but rather within the capability of which we can maintain. I might not be the person that I am today if I were to achieve every goal I ever dreamt of, and so I understand why I haven’t, why my loved ones did. Our stories, no matter how desired by others and not necessarily by ourselves, are still our greatest story to tell, how we lived a life so spontaneously that we mastered many arts, even the ones we didn’t want, but might have needed without truly realizing it. I promised my loved ones my support and myself the many years of joy to come, without breaking parts of myself trying to redeem for things I cannot have. My art is the love I have for old souls and the many thoughts I carry, even the confusing ones that leave me weary.

 

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kalah dalam pikiran sendiri.

Idealistic mind can’t even help them.
Being an idealist is the only way to keep us alive, we’re already lost everything in life.
Tidak sedikit orang yang menganggap bahwa sebagian dari kita telah memenangkan segala hal dalam kehidupan. Nyatanya, hal yang kita inginkan untuk mampir ke diri ini saja pun enggan.
Aku telah berupaya menggapai impian tersebut hingga mati-matian. Namun, hasilnya berujung membuat diriku tidak karuan.
Sementara, mereka sibuk mencari celah dari diri ini agar dapat disiksa. Padahal, sudah tidak ada lagi yang tersisa.
Aku sudah muak dengan segala kekalahan yang terjadi, hingga akhirnya diri ini memutuskan untuk sekedar berfantasi.
Bagi mereka, menjadi sosok yang realistis itu lebih baik daripada seorang idealis. Padahal, keduanya sama-sama disoraki, “Miris!”.
Seharusnya mereka mengerti, bahwa dunia ini tidak ada bedanya dengan ladang mimpi.
Aku coba merangkai skenario terbaik tentang rupa dunia yang kudambakan agar terwujud, namun skenario tersebut berujung tidak henti-hentinya kurajut.
Rasanya indah, berandai-andai tentang dunia yang ideal. Meskipun, satu-satunya hal yang terus diri ini lakukan hanyalah menyangkal.
Aku terus membohongi diri dengan bermain bersama isi kepala sendiri. Meskipun, diri ini tahu bahwa aku sudah kalah dari segala sisi.
Aku sudah kalah berkali-kali dalam kehidupan, jadi biarkan diri ini terjebak dalam pikiran.
Tidak ada yang lebih menyakitkan, dibanding dengan terjebak dalam dunia yang diciptakan sendirian.
Namun, nyatanya aku sudah kalah pula dalam pikiranku sendiri. Sehingga, akan kubiarkan diri ini mati dan menyendiri.
 

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falling in love seems like a bad idea nowadays, the disappearance of true love, where did it go?

People used to define “Love” as something that deeply connected two humans in a way that ineffable. It’s like a sacred connection. A kind of connection that only requires God’s approval.

People used to describe the feeling of “Love” as if it’s beyond everything. Magical, heavenly, surreal. The kind of feeling you will get when you’re lying in the midst of a flower garden with rain-scented ground.

“Love” used to live through the narrative such as,

“The moon is beautiful, isn’t it ?”

“In a room full of art, I would still stare at you.”

“To die by your side is such a heavenly way to die.”

“I have late night conversations with the moon, he tells me about the sun and I tell him about you.”

“I pray for you.”

It’s not the same anymore. People tainted the concept of love by cheating on their partner, lying to them, even worse that some people made them as a Plan B. The whole idea of “Love” that people used to know is just vanished in the blink of an eye.

These days, people tend to associate the term of “Love” with lust, obsessive, power to abuse the other. It’s saddening, to realize that the young generation might not have the chance to experience the genuine version of “Love”.

I used to live several chapters of life where there’s still a fine line between love and lust. But now, it’s nowhere near the term “sacred”. It’s not a new sight to see some people choose not to marry or prefer to be alone all their life.

Mankind yearns for love where it’s still pure as an innocent child, delicate as a falling snow in December, warm like a coast breeze, and looks picturesque like the moon on a summer night.

Being an idealist as always in this realistic world, I believe that some of us are still on searching for true love and so am I. What a relieve that some people still put their faith on it. It’s proof that the existence of “Love” is worth holding on to.

I do hope that somewhere in this fast evolving world, there’s still a place for love to bloom. I hope that love thrives and lives the way it should be. I do believe, there’s still a chance.

I hope the presence of long-lost true love makes an appearance and leads us to the place where we should be.

  

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semua orang pasti pernah salah.

 Mungkin aku sendiri sumber masalahnya, kalau kata mbak Taylor sih begitu?

 (dan itu tidak apa-apa)

Seni mengakui kesalahan itu adalah sesuatu yang tidak semua orang bisa lakukan. 

Dan menyadari bahwa diri sendiri adalah "sumber masalahnya", mungkin memang benar.

Dan itu tidak apa-apa.

Mungkin benar, 

"mungkin dia toxic, tapi kamu juga racun."

"barangkali mereka membencimu, tapi kamu memang menyebalkan."

"ya mungkin juga mereka tidak peduli denganmu, tapi kapan kamu memedulikan mereka?"

Menyadari diri sendiri adalah sumber masalahnya jangan menjadikan kamu pribadi yang pada akhirnya "menyalahkan diri sendiri."

TIDAK.

Justru di sanalah bentuk kedewasaanmu;

MENERIMA BAHWA DIRI INI PENUH SALAH DAN TIDAK SEMPURNA.

Semua orang adalah sumber masalah.

Semua orang pasti pernah salah.

Dan itu adalah bukti, bahwa kita hidup dan menjalani hidup.

Bukan tugasmu menyenangkan semua orang. (dan itu juga tidak mungkin)

Terkadang dalam hidup, kita dengan sadar ingin mencapai banyak hal, dan berusaha semaksimal mungkin agar semua ini akan baik bagi semua pihak. 

Tapi, tidak. Realitanya, bukan tugasmu menyenangkan dan membahagiakan semua orang. 

Akan selalu ada penolakan,

Akan selalu ada perdebatan,

Akan selalu ada kesedihan,

Akan selalu ada kekecewaan,

Akan selalu ada perpisahan.

Dan itulah kehidupan.

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i'm not.

Tentang ikhlas adalah sebuah pelajaran dengan bab-bab yang tidak pernah aku temukan akhirnya. Jika ikhlas serupa samudra, perahu seperti apa yang mampu mengarunginya dengan tenang? aku yang tengah hancur menunggu di ujung dermaga untuk diselamatkan dari duka dan air mata. Namun sayang, harus berapa tahun aku menunggu? ikhlas tidak pernah menjemputku untuk lega. 

Barangkali, ikhlas adalah serupa angin dengan hembusan pelan yang menyegarkan. Kehadirannya tidak terduga sebab hanya kebaikan Tuhan yang mampu menciptakannya. Barangkali, ikhlas adalah sebuah perjalanan panjang dengan akhir yang hanya mampu dicapai oleh mereka yang paling lapang hatinya. Sebab ternyata manusia sepertiku sangat sulit untuk berdamai dengan keadaan menyesakan.

Dalam hidup yang panjang ini, aku tidak peranh dengan bentuk ikhlas yang sesungguhnya. Setiap dihadapkan dengan sebuh kehilangan, tidak peranh ada yang benar-benar mampu memeluk rasa sedihku. Kehilangan menghadirkan luka-luka yang sulit untuk disembuhkan, sekalipun aku meminta kepada Tuhan agar lukaku digantikan dengan kebahagiaan yang berwarna. Meski telah banyak yang ku minta kepada Tuhan, ternyata duka akibat kehilangan tidak mudah hilang. Aku selalu merasa tidak layak untuk memiliki hal-hal indah, hingga setiap waktu bagiku adalah badai yang tidak pernah selesai.

Katanya hidup harus selalu berjalan ke depan. Aku memang masih hidup sampai hari ini (tidak tahu kalau besok?) meski banyak rasa yang telah mati di hatiku. Aku masih bisa tertawa sampai hari ini, meski hanya sekedar basa basi agar semesta dan isinya tidak terlalu khawatir melihatku yang getir. Sampai hari ini, perjalanan ikhlasku belum sampai di dermaga manapun. Ia masih berlayar melawan sepi, dan terkadang ia hilang di telan malam-malam. 

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hanging on.

 we're just the end of a sentence

a lingering question

what do i do with my self when you're gone?

we're just the end of a moment

an old kind of notion 

a cadence of words laying out on the lown

so how are you still the focus?

in all the commotion?

there's barely a line

but i'm still hanging on.

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