A year ago now, since you came to me in August to ask about film cameras. For the most part, you “succeeded” in making me “yours”. My mind travels to the thought of being with you and no one else. My fingers quiver at the remembrance of brushing against your skin and no one else’s. Your love (or desire? Whichever is more bearable for you) was pure in the most devastating way: weak and unwilling. Enough to make me hopeful. Never enough to make it real.
A week ago you confessed to me of all your stories. Finally letting me know that you were just the same. Shallow, easy and without faith. Only a lot shyer than I would like, but still carrying a broken home.
You remind me of the last person I loved more than I care to admit. Perhaps it had taken me this long to admit because I was afraid that it was true. Afraid that you would eventually hurt me too. But alas, you do. And alas, you did. One at a time. Only realising what you have done once I stop responding – cutting things in between. And once you come back, again, I stay. And once you come back, again, you disappear.
Sepertinya, kita tidak pernah benar-benar selesai dengan kita.
Mengulang adegan jatuh dan berpura-pura tidak ketika sadar betapa bodohnya jatuh kita. As if falling for one another was so sinful. As if wanting to be together was so impossible.
Tapi mungkin, memang ini yang terbaik untuk sekarang. Untuk tidak jatuh terlalu dalam. Sebatas menyentuh nama dan tanggal lahir. Cerita tentang teman namun tidak pernah saling mengenalkan. Bertemu untuk berbincang dengan kata-kata yang sudah dipersiapkan dan tidak lebih dari itu. Mungkin, waktu untuk bersama bukan sekarang
– jika memang kita dituliskan untuk bersama.