Metamorphosis

By the time I made the draft of this writing, I was in train to Jakarta. My iTouch played ‘You Don’t Know Me’ by Ray Charles. It was quite sad. The train was so quite and still. And there I was, sitting by the corner and kept questioning ‘Is it that hard to be in love? How could it be?’

Now the song changed into ‘Heart of Gold’ by Neil Young. So easy to get crush on somebody, yet in a speed of glance, it’s over. Not yet to blossom, caused by some hurtful details that could destroy the whole imagination of future love.

Keep stumbling! Keep stumbling!

Doesn’t everyone have love that need to be given? So how if that kind of love cannot be transmitted to another one you want to? The only thing I could do to get over the process of love transmitting is keep myself busy. 

Ain’t I loved enough? Is it because this brain or this awkward appearance?

***

Perhaps this is karma, possibly maybe.

I hurt, and in the end, at the right time, I am hurt. And then what happened to one who hurt me once? He seems fine, loved, and natural.

All those stories on me, are all the same: it’s me who started it. When someone wanted to start it, I don’t want him to.

What is it with requited love? Requited love for me is when gravity pulls both of the lover to each other.

But it’s just to utopic, just like Marx’s theory. There never comes a day so. I’m tired in waiting, for waiting is all I’ve been doing right from the start.

I imagine one thing so clear in my mind. That I’m chasing my train to nowehere ends. It’d become so clear each time my heart aches. So hurtful I might die. I don’t know where to hold on. Some people sadness is pathetic, but they just don’t know what so comfortable being pain is. Like lonesome might be a negative feeling for others, as for me, they just don’t understand something so enjoyable being alone. However, it’s too long to be so enjoyable, so I have no clue which one is so hurtful or enjoyable. 

All I know is, I forget what it feels like to be seriously in love with someone.

Here’s the truth about being alone: you, either way, will enjoy it.

I already read Murakami’s book enough to figure out what ‘loneliness’ really means. Writing blog at 03.56 a.m with a heavy thought is loneliness as well.

I was born with no brother or sister, by the time I was a child, it seemed that ‘lonesome’ is my middle name. Working parents (I don’t complain this, though) and playing all by myself is what I’d been trough.

It’s hard for me to put myself upon trust over someone. I know I talk a lot, but I have limitation for what I’m about to talk. I avoid talking anything that I actually feel. Because the last time I really open myself to someone, that one is gone, off somewhere already. And it’s really a shame, to tell everything to someone without realizing or knowing whether they simply are interested, or they really care.

Left alone, I tried so hard to laugh but in the end, the aches gets crazier.

It’s not just about being with as a couple, but about people that I’d like to talk with, people I’d like to share my deep-true feeling.

One of my friends (I don’t know how she could find this) said once:

“Putri, you’re a complex person. You barely open yourself to someone. You laugh, you make us laugh, but in the end you’re the one who cries loudest among us.”

“You make yourself busy so you won’t bother thinking about what you really feel.”

What is it that makes me scared with people? I laugh with them, I can make them laugh, and for what?

That lonesome feeling always occupies me whenever I’m home.

what does it feel like to come home late in order to see that one you uses to wait is now waiting for you?

But that never happens. I’m the one who always waits. I’m the one who always sit down in front of the kitchen table, eating my dinner alone in home. The only sound comes from the television that I made it on. Waiting someone will knock my door, telling me ‘I’m home!’

But I can’t be that honest to my friend since I keep my promise not to be a burden for her because she already lost her mom while ago. I don’t know that it could be so hard like this.

And I can’t tell anyone that whenever I come home, the only things that welcome me only the chill floor, the silence, and the cold dinner.

Well perhaps, it’s not just about together in finding the breaker of lonesome.

And that’s me, denying. All over again.

So tell me, Payton. Are you lonesome tonight?

Anonymous asked: do you brush your hair oftenly?

hm, I’m not fulfilling my ‘female’ role so… ahaha no.

tumblrbot asked: WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE INANIMATE OBJECT?

Book~

Anonymous asked: why guilty pleasure bothering me?

it’s not pleasuring you enough then.

rawrr-ras asked: if i, by any chances, got scholarship or exchange to russia and i'd dare to give it to you, what would you do?

i grant you a wish in the capability of human being to fulfill it.