Filsafat, Racauan

Rencana Manik

Kau seperti klise yang diulang-ulang, walau sesungguhnya jauh dari pikiran banyak orang.

Seperti semua kebenaran politis yang kau paksa untuk anut tapi sebenarnya kau tak suka-suka amat, jadi munafik dalam dirimu karena pada kenyataannya kalau bisa kau langgar, kau langgar.

Aku tidak di tempat yang cocok untuk menilaimu, aku tahu, dan kau… Kau jauh dari tempat tinggi untuk menilaiku. Kita toh berbuat semau-maunya saja dalam cerita ini–cerita dimana di versimu kau korbannya dan aku penjahatnya. Sementara di versiku penjahat dan korban adalah orang yang sama: aku.

Terlalu banyak drama untuk jiwa setua kita. Sementara kawan dan sanak saudara sudah beranak pinak seperti marmut, kelinci, tikus atau kecoak, kita macam spesies mau punah yang tidak mampu regenerasi, spesies yang kalah dalam kompetisi Lamarck-Darwin.

Kita pesakitan yang terjangkit wabah bernama intelektualitas dan bias kelas dan fatalistik, banalitas; kita percaya manusia menuju kepunahan dan kita berusaha tidak jadi munafik dengan cara memodifikasi diri supaya kita melampaui manusia macam ubermench Nietzsche: kita mau menyatu dengan kimiawi artifisial dan mesin-mesin sehingga kita tidak perlu berkembang biak macam binatang. Kita jadi manusia yang lebih manusiawi: egois, dan berusaha untuk abadi.

Karena apa gunanya beranak pinak, kalau kau tak bisa mati?

Lalu kita buat kemutakhiran diri dengan obat-obatan, campuran mesin, dan komputerisasi otak. Siapa lagi yang butuh memori biologis kalau kita bisa tersambung ke memori data kolektif dengan penanggalan karbon dan jam atom paling akurat?

Kasih sayang, seks, cinta, petualangan, kebencian, rasa, semua akan jadi hiburan semata dalam realita virtual kita. Lalu makna juga tak lebih dari fabrikasi. Manusia yang tak mampu berevolusi cuma jadi kucing jalanan saja, cuma perlu kita steril supaya tidak merepotkan.

Manusia terlalu merepotkan dan semakin lama semakin tertebak, terjebak dalam putaran kuasa yang itu-itu saja sementara polusi tidak berhenti melebar dan polisi semakin tidak mengerti tugasnya menjaga apa.

Sudahlah. Tidurkan dengan euthanasia. Supaya semua cepat berganti, karena aku sudah tidak sabar lagi.

Untuk mati dan hidup lagi.

Iklan
English, Memoir, Racauan, Teater

2018: Year of Love and It’s Terror

Those who know me probably know that 2018 might be one of the heaviest year of my life. In January, I lost my father. I gain some old and new friends. Lost them. Gain some love, lost them. Gain some weight and mental illnesses—Oh, shit they won’t go away. Probably my closest friends now.

I honestly lost the will to tell you my stories, for they are dull, cliches and most of you who knows me already know. People have disappointed me and I have disappointed people. I woke up tonight crying for the words I have said repeatedly to them; words like “I love you”, “please understand”, “I’m Sorry”, “Don’t leave”, and “Why?”

And their words are echoing in my mind, “I refuse your love”, “Don’t make your illness as an excuse”, “You’re the one who left”, “Up to you, whatever”, “Don’t need to apologize if you don’t feel guilty about it.”

You know that phrase YOLO, or do things you want to do before you regret it, whatever. Well, I did what I wanted to do and said what I needed to say and I still regret them. It’s like everything is a mistake (that is depression). So here I am wordless and worthless. For the world around me is working against me. For the people I love either left me, or can’t be with one another therefore can’t be with me, or keep making shits that made me have to do shits for them, or keep saying they love me and expect just too goddamn much by expressing their pain and need to be with me, or expect me to be something that I am not. I keep give a fuck where I shouldn’t have and I don’t know why.

I honestly, from the bottom of my heart, HATE this year because it’s full of love. Because from those love rise jealousy, and hatred, and mental illness, and all sort of problems with no end or solution on sight. The things that love precedes this year are existential terrors. Culture and institutions have made loving to be so fucking demanding, by creating this “either-or” principles in people’s mind, and terrorizing us with the fear of loving or losing love. So fucking complicated. I hate this year for taking so much of my mind and soul.

This is the year of desperation.

And the scariest part of this year, is the tiny hope it gave me, lurking behind those depressions and unrequited love. The hope that we all can find a balance to be with one another, and loving each other without all the commotion of heartbroken drama and social contracts that goes with it. The hope that life is worth living, because deep inside, we are all missing each other.

If love is a verb, it is a painful one. Since in that action I have to be still and accept the fact that stillness is what most people I love wanted from me. The stillness corrodes me, for expressing my love will do nothing but harm. Love is a tyrant that binds me out of you all, lock me inside of my mind.

But if that is what it takes to live this year and the next, shall be it. For I love you, and nothing can stop that. I’m gonna die a masochist.

I wish you all a happy new year.

Cinta, Eksistensialisme, English, Puisi

Room

There is no outside world
just this room
spacey, controllable environment
and I am free, inside

I escape reality
reject responsibility
my body and mind lack capability
to move, strive, struggle, no agility

But I am not running, no
how can I run if I can’t even stand,
nor speak, nor think straight
or see the light that bestowed upon me

But I do believe in love, that surpasses all
I do believe that if we love each other, all of these
sickness does not matter,
love does not make it better
or worse, it will put fidelity in the gutter

What it surpass is our understanding
to one another and to ourselves

That there is no bad intentions
in loving one another
but dire consequences
lies in unfulfilled desire

Despair is the sickness
everyone must endure
unto death

I love you
and nothing can stop that

But we can stop
hurting each other
by stopping those
that entails love.



English, Memoir, Racauan, Uncategorized

When I Leave

I know I can be hard. So I thank you for staying. But I understand those who left or if you want to leave, since… I can be hard.

Who would bear the circling uttered words of meaningless anxiety, the reckless raging action, the inconsistency of commitment, the constant change of plans, the tender love turn to harsh possessiveness, the lust for betrayal, and the suicidal threat that endangered everyone around me.

No love in the world could manage to constantly stay to something like that. Not even love for one self. If I could, darling, I’d leave myself for good. But one cannot leave one self. One can just stay and live, or leave and die. And you, all of you who come and go, made me live and suffer. And taste a little bit of happiness. And for that I thank you. For that, I love you.

Some of you who stays, hurt me with your love and your disappointment in me, for I cannot be what you wished me to be. And with that, I hurt you back. I used to be sorry for that, but that guilt made me worse. So I have to say, sorry that I am not sorry. I am not sorry for failing your expectation, I am not sorry for hurting your feelings, for breaking promises, for being a bad son, husband, brother, cousin, nephew, colleague, friend, lover. Since I know for sure, and you know for sure too, that I am not always bad. And these days when I am bad, it is never intentional. You can either understand and cope with me in facing my symptom, or you are free to leave. I will be okay.

I will be okay since you will not be the first ones who leave, and will not be the last. I left some people too for my own sake, and I will not hesitate to leave you,

for my own sake.

So do take a break. Hell, do shut your life from me for good.

Because…

You. are. important. to. yourself.

And don’t worry about me. I’ll be okay. I’ll be better off knowing you’re okay without me, than having you around and realizing how much I have been hurting you.

I’ll have my attacks when I don’t know whether you’re okay or not. Sometimes I wonder why’d you leave me and I go berserk. But then I remember again that I also want to leave me. So I laugh, and cried. And I bid you farewell, and wish you a wonderful life without me.

And I hope those who stay can understand that too, when I leave.

Don’t worry, I’m not gonna kill myself again. That ship has sailed. I’m gonna kill somebody else who pissed me off on the road. Haha. I’m kidding.

See ya. Or not.