Banyak hal yang berusaha menjatuhkanku, tapi aku harus tetap bisa bangkit kembali.
Aku akan tunjukkan pada dunia, bahwa aku bukanlah manusia yang mudah di dera. Aku bukanlah sasaran yang mudah dilumpuhkan.
Meski kali ini pukulan yang kuterima cukup keras.. Aku bahkan terguling dan tak mampu berteriak mencari pertolongan… ah, bukannya tak mampu, tapi aku tak mau. Aku terlalu malu, martabatku menghalangi kewarasanku.
Mataku tak pernah kering. Entah itu aliran deras, ataupun hanya lembap di pelupuk. Hantaman ini terlalu besar, efeknya begitu dalam, baru kali ini aku rasanya kehilangan kewarasan.
Ternyata, begini rasanya menjadi gila. Tidak berharga. Tidak tahu lagi hendak berbuat apa.
Aku menulis ini, agar dirimu tahu betapa jatuhnya aku. Aku rapuh. Aku hancur. Tapi aku tidak akan berhenti begitu saja.
Aku akan tetap berjuang, aku akan tetap berada di sini, entah kamu senang atau tidak.
Aku akan tetap berdiri tegak. Aku tidak gampang diterbangkan badai. Aku akan tetap kokoh berdiri
Persetan dengan penilaian orang lain. Persetan dengan belas kasihan orang lain. Persetan dengan kacamata buram yang mereka miliki. Aku akan tegar dengan pilihanku.
Aku memilih untuk bertahan, bukan untuk siapa pun, untuk diriku sendiri.
Karena aku bukan orang yang mudah dicampakkan, aku akan tetap tumbuh bagai rumput liar.
Jalan ini sunyi. Aku bahkan tak tahu lagi apa yang membuatku tetap bangun dan bernapas di pagi hari.
Tetapi aku juga takut menutup mata. Karena tiap kelopak ini menutup, bukan ketenangan yang menghampiri, hanya ada bayangan yang mengerikan.
Tidak pernah terbayangkan akan mengalami hal pahit ini.
Sakit dan perih sekali rasanya hati ini.
No words could describe how deep this wound, yet I have to stay still. I have to be strong. For myself. I deserve happiness. I deserve to be happy. I deserve to be loved too.
A~ You always arrive like dawn — softly, without permission. You ask questions that don’t require answers, and somehow that unsettles me. I built walls of logic, plans, clean lines— yet you step through them as if they were mist.
B~ I never meant to trespass. I only saw the light leaking through your cracks and thought — maybe there’s a heart in there, beating quietly under all that precision.
A~ There is. But it prefers silence. I learned early that emotion is best when it behaves. Then you appeared, and every theory started trembling.
B~ You looked like peace, and I mistook it for belonging. I wanted to stay long enough to hear your stillness speak my name. But we were written in opposite directions— you, a compass; I, a tide.
A~ Even tides leave patterns on the shore. Yours remain. They remind me that logic without warmth is just architecture for ghosts.
B~ And your steadiness taught me that love doesn’t always have to arrive in flames — sometimes it just stands quietly in the doorway, and that’s enough.
A~ If we meet again — perhaps not as who we were, but as what we learned — I’ll still know your voice.
B~ Then let’s promise this: when the next universe folds us close, you’ll teach me stillness, and I’ll remind you how to feel the wind.
Fragment 3 of not so many anymore | @darkjasm | #QuietStarSeries | Fictionalconversation of exhibit A and exhibit B~
Some lights pass without promise, too far to touch, too near to forget.
I do not chase it. I let it hum beneath my ribs, like a secret chord Heaven once allowed me to hear.
There was a calm I met between storms, a voice, steadied the trembling glass of my days.
No vows were written, no touch exchanged, yet something sacred passed between silences.
Some nights, I still trace their echo in the folds of my own silence. It asked for nothing, only to exist.
I found warmth in the orbit of your mind, a language that never needed words.
Not every warmth is meant for the hand, Some are meant for the soul …to remember. the way dusk keeps the last blush of day, not as hope, but as proof That light once lingered.
The sky forgets its stars by morning, but the sea remembers their reflection. the ones that never belonged to the night, Yet still found their way into my sky.
Now the light rests where memory sleeps, folded between thought and prayer.
Tonight, I let myself breathe.
Fragment 1 of many to come | @darkjasm | Chapter of a quiet star – extended version.
More than 2 decades has gone by. The hurt is still real. The longing is even bigger.
Your love! is all I need Your love! is all I crave
I never know how to mend this wound, nor that I want to.
That’s OKAY.
This scar means that you are real. That your love is real The smell that I no longer can sniff, was real The hug that I no longer can embrace, was real
YOU were real You ARE real You will always feel REAL, inside my memory.
the 24th of September is not the day that I long for. Not then, not now, not EVER.
We were not instantly getting along on the first day. We worked things through, together. We resolved our misperception, our miscommunication, and our misunderstanding. We are never perfect, but we are fully aware of our imperfections. Sometimes — no, most of the time, we are not in agreement. We have our arguments. However, in the end, we knew that we could count on each other and that the mission needed all of us to do our part. We make everything possible, together.
I never know where destiny will take us, what will happen in the future, or whether we will be back together again. One thing that I know: things will absolutely be different. Thus, let me cherish those moments. The warmth of our togetherness will be carried forward. We are parting ways. Nevertheless, we are forever a family. We will help each other, and I will be there for each one of you. For that one thing, I am sure.
I’ve just realized that I’ve taken them for granted. It’s like I know that they will always have my back whenever I need them. It should not be that way. It should’ve been a two-way relationship.
I woke up this morning feeling a little melancholic. I couldn’t exactly figure what is missing, but I am sure that I missed something. Waking up to a hole in my heart, that even my mind couldn’t comprehend the exact emotion, was not a great way to start a day; especially when you have to tend to a super active ‘cool boy’ (quoted directly from the boy).
Usually, I will recover from my morning sadness by doing chores and reading for my study. However, today was one of the unusual days for me, so I have to endure the strange emotion for a whole morning. Until I saw my friend’s story about his accident on his way to his office. Memories from my high school suddenly become the focal point of my mind. I remember three people that helped me navigate my teenage rage. He was one of those people. Bits and pieces with them flooding my mind.
The first flashback moment that I remember was when this particular person had an accident while we were in our high school year. It was quite bad. It is like I could still smell the hospital ward he was nursed. I remember how we sneak our way in and smuggled salad from a particular pizza parlour. Also, how we hid the mirror so he couldn’t find out how bad his condition was. The worst is that the anxiety I felt that day also came back, that is why I was so anxious about his recent accident.
After that moment, each of those three person’s face came to my mind. We were just catching up last week, but my longing for their presence, complete with their quirk humour, feel more real today. It feels so real it hurts; I couldn’t even put it into a sentence and tell them how I miss them directly. I need an outlet, so I write this for them and for me. I hope they will understand how much I miss them and how much I treasure their friendship.
We were brought together by our Scout activities: two girls and two boys, acting like we owned the world (especially the Scout world). We know each other family as we always annoyed them with our constant presence (or lack thereof 😆). We’ve been through ups and downs together. We never actually articulate it, but we just know that we love each other deeply.
Moments we shared are countless, yet it is also priceless at the same time. Even more so after we all led our separate lives.
I could still remember our talk one night, in the backyard of the house of one of us. We were thinking about our future selves. Dreaming about what we want to be, and where we are in several years later. Naively, one of us said that he will be the Chief of the Indonesian Scout Movement. His statement is so absurd that I forget what the others were saying that night.
Another moment that comes to my mind is the sleep-deprived weeks of reactivating a District Council in our school area. Funny thing that the most memorable moment is when I left the boys to work overnight in my house accompanied by my father, while I was fast asleep in my room.
I know the girl in our group the longest. We met when she was still in elementary school; she led her scout group proudly (that perceived as smug by us, the middle schooler). Not a chance of believing that we will be the best friend in just two years after that. 2001 was the year we finally could call each other ‘best friend’. We were young and naive, fooled by boys and men (especially me :sigh:) . The boys and men came and go, but we stand together. As close as ever, until those two came to invade our little circle.
Two became Four: much for other people’s resentment.
Unfortunately, our lives drifted us apart. This is the saddest part. We were acting like we have forever, while forever will never be ours. There were many stolen moments between us, many unspoken feelings, many regrets for our misunderstanding of each other, many things left unfinished. At least for me.
However, my biggest regret is that I have taken them for granted. For most of the time, I was full of my self. I ignore their warning, I avoid their inquiry. In the end, I know that they just want to save me from future regrets, and just like any best friend do, they were still there when I finally comprehend their trail of thoughts.
It is misguided to tell that we were always close after adulthood came upon us. It is a lie to state that our lives are still full of each other. We all have had our own life, our own little family, and we were not always talk to each other. As a matter of fact, we were rarely talking to each other. Sometimes, we weren’t aware of what happens to others. Nevertheless, when we see each other and talk to each other, it is like we never been separate; it is like we still understand each other.
Writing this made me realize that I don’t spend enough time with them. I grew apart from them prematurely. I didn’t spare enough attention for them while I was busy becoming someone that is not me. I was too busy to escape my own fear that I failed to recognize that I should’ve reached out to them and come clean about my trouble. I wasn’t entirely ‘present’ on their special days. I didn’t appreciate and love them enough. I feel like I’ve failed them.
Fortunately, they all live their lives fully now. They have found their ‘happily ever after’ love stories. They are content and happy. That is what matter. I just hope that they know that I love them so much, and I really miss them. This time I promise to be there anytime they need me, and I intend to keep my promise. I don’t want to lose them again.
This is for you three:
Our talk, our jokes, our mischiefs, are our memories.
Moments we spent together have melted into the subconscious.
Memories become vague;
Moments become rare;
Talking is now a luxury that we don't always have.
Those thousand minutes are now also a thousand minutes old.
Secrets could no more be fully kept and shared.
Laughter and tears are now rarely heard.
Nevertheless, we stand at each other side.
We become the memories.
We devour our memories,
Because the feeling remains real.
I am grateful for the love,
I am grateful for the friendship,
I am grateful to have you in my life,
I am grateful for the three of you.
Thank you!
This is supposed to be written a week ago, but essays got in the way. *yes, Z.. blame the essay! :lol:
September is always a special month for me. I love the anticipation of my upcoming birthday at the end of the month. I used to hope that people care for me and send me birthday wishes at midnight. I used to be upset if I only got a few birthday greetings.
…but then, maturity bug bits me.
The excitement of September is still felt, but the anticipation of the birthday has worn off. I am no longer hang my happiness on the numbers of wishes I got; hence, I am no longer a party go lucky girl. I begin to set my birth date as private in all my social media and go on with my life. Thus, I am very content with all the wishes that I got every year. All that wishes matter to me – no more empty wishes because I finally found the needle between the haystack.
Here comes the hardest part. Reflecting on my 31 years on earth.
When I was a little girl, someone in the age of 30ish perceived as very old. Ancient. But now, I am the 30ish woman…. Yeah, old…but not very old. 🙃
On a more serious note… I feel like my whole life has been a quest to find my self. Looking back into my life, I am surprised how much life has transformed me. Some part for the better, the other half is worsened. Nevertheless, I am who I am today because of all the choices I made yesterday. There is no regret in the current direction of my life, but I also need to admit that anxiety is still my best friend. Sometimes it leads me into temporary regression, but in the end, I will always find lights to see those things from a different perspective. Is it work? Yes! By looking from different perspective, we will realise that what we have done is not only bad but also embarrassing :sigh: nonetheless, there is no good in glorifying our mistake in the past. The one that matter is the way you deal with your mistake and own it, then go on with your life. This is what I always do, just go on: bad things will end, and so will good things.
I am an introvert pretending to be an extrovert. People will remember me as a chitty chatty girl with a smile on her face. Those things are exhausted. I feel so tired every time I have to put my happy face and pretend that everything is okay. Make no mistake, I am a cheerful girl, but I am not the always happy girl. However, I am very good at pretending everything is under control. I am good at pretending to be happy and calm. After these 31 years, I finally acknowledge that I am depressed. Yet, I keep it to myself because I know that nobody really wants to know my real story. Nobody really cares about what is going on in my mind. Nobody will believe if I told them that I am not okay. Everybody will say “We believe you can!”. Yes, I can…just not always.
My quest to find my self is not finished. I am not even sure that it will end. Every day in my life has been a rollercoaster of events and moods. I know those are the perks of being human, but sometimes I feel tired and just want a nice nap and cuddle. Lately, I found out that feeling tired and the need of taking a break is normal. We owe ourselves those nice treatments because our mind and our body always work hard to keep with our overtime insanity to keep us sane. Also, I just found out that we can push our limit while at the same time, accelerate our breaking point into infinity (what exactly is this statement supposed to mean?).
See?
I am not good at reflecting. These are not reflections. This is me, trash-talking my self…. and these are things inside my mind every time I have a mental break down. (And it is pretty often).
Here is my summary: I am a 31 years woman who is not in my best point right now. However, I acknowledge it and accept my worst self because I know that I will also have the up moments. This worst stage will eventually pass, and the best is yet to come.
….and also, maybe all this miserable feeling is growing in my mind because I miss Zhafran so much it hurts.
Ciao,
The DarkJasmine
Pst. Once again, it is okay to say that you are not okay. It is also okay that you want to pretend that you are okay, as long as you really believe that you will eventually be okay.
On the eve of 23rd September 2003,
just after dinner,
you were feeling unwell and need to lay down,
because of the cold and the ache in your head,
you were asking for massage,
because you could not feel your hands anymore,
you were asking for guidance to pray,
because you could not control half of your face.
On the eve of 23rd September 2003,
just after you say ‘Allah’,
you were unconscious,
on our way to the emergency room.
On the eve of 23rd September 2003,
just after you lost your consciousness,
you spent the night on the ICU,
with all the medical devices to keep your heart beating,
to keep your lung breathing.
On the eve of 23rd September 2003,
just after you went into the ICU,
you were visited by tons of your friends and colleagues,
to pray for you,
to cheer us for you.
then again,
Allah loves you more.
You were gone…
on 24th September 2003.
The DarkJasmine 