Pagi itu dia datang, karena itu aku tak merasa harus bangun. Dia yang lama kukenal sudah kembali, dingin, pemalu, dan menggigit. Kapan terakhir kali dia memelukku seerat ini sampai aku bisa merasakan tiupan nafasnya? Aku tidak menyesal pernah merindukannya, rasanya menyegarkan bisa menyambutnya kembali di ranjang walau aku tidak akan pernah menyediakan tempat untuknya. Udara pagi Bandung yang dingin—
selamat datang kembali.
Four months long was I gone. Twice have I appeared and disappeared again in writing. The life out of me has been drained from my skin. Feelings are anything but ordinary now. The only things that move me are pain that I inflict upon myself and pleasure that I intentionally receive from touching you.
Things have been deeply troubling within my everyday ever since January slipped through my grasp. Even so, I managed to turn 19. I have a few things I would like to tell you now. Though they may be of no substantial meaning or purpose for you, I still want to force these writings to your knowledge. And I hope, that you will accept them.
I admit that it’s been quiet awhile since I last wrote here, which I deeply apologise for. But know that I needed time to grow, to change, in order to understand.
The beginning of this second semester, I was determined to focus on my academics, and in the process, unconsciously yet willingly forgot about the group of friends I have acquired from the last semester. This had obviously created somewhat of a calamity, one that I had never consented to, let alone was aware of, and I can now no longer approach the people I used to approach as easily. They had mistaken my being quiet and withdrawn as having a feud with them, and I was beginning to hear unpleasant things of me from people who have very little knowledge of who I am anymore.
Truthfully, it had hurt to a certain degree. Writing this again now, even after weeks of drafting this post and of living with a new truth, I still choke by my throat because I am reminded of the reality that I have no one, and that I may have indeed hurt others unknowingly. And so I seek to separate myself from everyone even more, in hopes of hurting everyone less.
However, along with my being oblivious, this also had a lot to do with how we’re all changing to adapt to our newly given routines and separate environments. And because I am not one to care, nor do I see any reason to shorten the distance or try to correct the misunderstanding anymore, I came to no lengths to try and make these people understand: they do not need to understand.
Regarding how well being determined to focus on my academics had been, I’m regretful to say that that too hadn’t really been working out as much as I had anticipated to. The first half of the semester it proved to be quiet helpful in certain subjects. But the other subjects in which I could not be saved in, left me scarred horribly. I remember receiving the lowest score I have ever received in all my life and just returning home, not caring for anything else in the world, fell to bed, and immediately cried for hours on end with a few cuts accompanying me by my arms. It was such a stupid thing to be so emotionally anguished about, but it was the most I could feel in so long. And as any numb person would go, I embraced the feeling.
Before long, the second half of the semester came by uninvited and I was starting to get bored of being alone so excessively. I needed a change. A feeling, or two. Perhaps someone I could pull into my orbit too. Whatever it was, I ached for something that could evoke me to continue on living deeply. Driven by the fear of not running as far as I can within the time that I was given, I then sought to trying new things that I have never touched before.
One of them is liberating my hair,
for the sake of both my physical and mental health.
The second was understanding that I needed time,
and that Allah does care, and that He is there, for me
regardless of how horrible of a person I am.
The third was finally drinking my medicine,
when I’m given them by the doctor.
About falling ill: I don’t know if I remember correctly, but I’m sure that I’ve written about getting sick a lot in my previous posts. Granted, I’m still getting sick a lot. Although it’s not as often as last semester, the intensity seems to becoming more aggressive and I’ve grown to become really weak and even more easily fatigued. But because they don’t necessarily appeal to me as something significant, I didn’t worry much about it. Even though I’ve already gotten checked and diagnosed by a doctor my mom forced me to see by bringing him home, and after receiving three bottles of herbal medicines to drink.
That was until I fell really ill, and I didn’t have the strength to know what to do.
By this time, I was already not drinking any of the medicines I was given to drink for the things that I’ve been getting sick for. And I was also not the best at taking care of myself. So I finally told my mom that I was sick again, and confessed to her that I’ve not been drinking any of my medicines, let alone the extra herbals she entrusted me to drink every now and then.
She then told me that I “have symptoms of cancer” and that my becoming weak and easily fatigued was not something I could disregard very easily. The next day, I went to get myself checked again and was finally drinking my medicine.
The more exciting parts of these new things, however, include cutting my hair by my shoulder, watching my friends play softball matches at a time where I supposedly should be studying, thrift-shopping as a new way of filling my wardrobe and of defining my personality through what meets the eye (this could mean that I have a horrible personality though), returning back to the ice rink after seven months (despite no more plans of returning again due to how incredibly time-and-money-consuming it is), founding Novel Thinkers i.e. a project that I’m currently working on which I will write more about soon, and playfully trying out film photography!
I would love to sit with you and have a chat instead of writing down everything and having you read it since it would be so exhausting for you.
But yes, the second semester is truly one of a kind. It was so horrible since I was getting sick all the time and I had all these confusing phases where I didn’t know what to do, but at the same time, the months were being incredibly heartwarming and very accompanying. How is that possible? How can two entire universe of emotions within me meet and leave me still alive?
That, I do not know of.