Monday, July 30, 2012

Honestly, if you're not willing to sound stupid, you don't deserve to be in love." -A Lot Like Love

smile smile small

Pengen senyum-senyum terus rasanya! :) :) :)

Sunday, July 22, 2012

an open letter to somebody that I used to know

I never know how these kinds of letters are supposed to start, how I’m meant to introduce the beginning of the end. Breakups are inherently difficult, but of all the trials and tribulations one has to endure throughout one, I think initiating the conversation that will ultimately result in sorrowful separation might be the hardest. So, I guess I’ll just come out and say what you already know is coming: things are over between you and me. 

Contemplating the end of something always gets me thinking about the start: the first encounter, the first impression, the first time you feel the spark. I will admit that you made a fabulous first impression and I was smitten almost instantly. I won’t use the cliché “love at first sight,” but you sure did sweep me off my feet. You were charming, warm, driven and invigorating. You really seemed to have it all. You made me feel lucky just to be in your presence, even made me go as far as to pity those who weren’t fortunate enough to be near you.

Though the purpose of this letter is to say goodbye, I feel I owe it to you to admit all these things, tell you just how much you meant to me. Our relationship was my constant, the one thing I could count on for stability when everything else was chaos. Friends, family (people in general I suppose), they can sometimes let you down, but at the end of each day I always had you. Not anymore.

I loved you so much, but I didn’t realize until recently how little you loved me back. It’s not that you were cruel or unkind, you simply didn’t care. And when I leave, you will keep moving at your ever-rapid pace without me, never even skipping a beat. It’s sad to think about how much I will miss you, how I will long for us to resolve our differences and get back together, but you’ll barely notice I’ve left. I guess this is the hardest part to admit that "they go on just fine without you".

The truth is: I just feel tired all the time. I’m tired of trying so hard to change for you, tired of attempting to be someone I’m not when you are so unwilling to make any compromises for me. I’d like to think that someone better suited for you will replace me; that she’ll come find you just as I’m saying farewell. Maybe you were just a chapter in my book, but you can be the “happily ever after” in her.

I know I’ve said some harsh things, but this is just how I’m feeling right now. We need some space, some time apart, but I really hope that we’ll be friends in the future. Sure, we didn’t end up being soul-mates like I thought. Somewhere down the line I hope you’ll allow me to come for a visit, get coffee, have dinner, maybe even spend a day at the beach? That’d be really nice, wouldn’t it? I’m already looking forward to that day.

Until then....

Saturday, July 21, 2012

Why I called you ?

Before I even dialed the numbers, I imagined what would happen when you looked down at your phone, buzzing softly across the table, and saw my name. I even briefly wondered if you had removed my name from your contacts at some point, and would have seen only the number. Deleting me seemed too harsh in its finality, and not really like you, but even if it had only been the number. I imagined you would have recognized it. We see the same numbers so often, hear them repeated, that even if we couldn’t produce them on command, we know what they look like. The landscape of digits forms a sort of painting in our mind, a few sevens followed by a four, that conjures up as much an image as a name might. I thought about you seeing me pop up on the tiny, crystal-clear screen, and felt a fleeting wave of nausea.

It was hard not to consider where you were at that moment, what you would have been doing. When we call someone, we’re inevitably poking our noses unexpectedly into a life that is very much in the process of being lived. They’re out at a bar, they’re having a serious conversation, they’re watching a movie. There is something going on that you are now interrupting, and though it’s not a crime to tap them on the shoulder, the moment you walk into changes everything about the conversation. I thought of how embarrassed I would be if you had picked up with sharp, shouted bar talk filling the room behind you. If you were surrounded by friends, by opportunity, by everything that I didn’t want to think about, how would I talk to you
You telling me, “I can’t hear you, can you speak up?” with your friends laughing in the background, and me doing what? Telling you I’d call you later? That couldn’t be the context of my call.

And if you didn’t pick up? If my missed call just lingered, blinking silently into whatever empty room you’d left your phone in, waiting for you to come back and pick it up, what then? You’d look down and see my number, my name, and would likely flip through some mental rolodex of all the reasons I could possibly be calling. You would go through emotions the way one might try on shirts before an important evening out. pity, distress, nervousness, hopefully setting on a morbid curiosity strong enough to at least merit a text message back: “What’s up?” No, you had to pick up. The conversation could only work if I backed you into an invisible corner and forced you to look at my upturned thoughts, spread out like a deck of tarot cards on a table you don’t want to sit down at.

Why am I calling? I’m calling because, though the inevitable silence following your “Hello?” that necessitates a breathless explanation on my part makes my palms sweat and stomach turn, not calling is no longer an option. The percentage of my days spent thinking about what would happen if I spoke to you, if I reached out, if I said something, now greatly eclipses the time spent where you don’t cross my mind. What was once an itch at the back of my brain, an amusing what-if that was never supposed to be acknowledged, is now an all-consuming need to confirm that, regardless of what direction life has taken you in, you are still familiar of the path that led you there. You know, the one that included us, together, as something that we cannot smother with the passage of time. I guess calling you to say hello, to even confirm that you still exist with that same voice and the “hmm” I can hear when you smile through your words, is more necessary than it is uncomfortable.

My fingers feel like numb, dead weights at the ends of my hands, sweating and shaking as I move from number to number. Yours is built into my very muscle memory, something I could do on any phone, blindfolded. I feel the saliva gather in my mouth and then be forced down my throat as I remind myself to swallow. I can hear my heartbeat, feel my lungs rise and fall with each breath that gets progressively harder to take in. Each ring lasts a decade, and yet evaporates behind me in a matter of seconds while I scramble for a chance to do this over, when more prepared. And then you pick up, “Hello?” That perfect mix of gentle understanding and genuine curiosity that I at once hoped and feared you would respond with. Always nice, always considerate, always better than me. “Hello?” you ask again, as I am paralyzed on the other end. You say my name, hoping perhaps that the sound of it would jar me into action, would make something escape from me to justify and explain this call so long after it could be considered appropriate. You wait, and the line crackles.

And I hang up, because I am a coward.

Oh Human...

We screw over the ones we love all the time but let’s just try to pretend otherwise, shall we? Let’s try to pretend that we wouldn’t ever ruin the ones closest to us..

Friday, July 13, 2012


pengennya sih kita nongkrong di pothead ya! tp apaboleh buat. gelato aja duluuuuuuuu....

Wednesday, July 11, 2012

I Remember

I remember thinking I loved myself when I really didn’t. No one can trick you quite like yourself.

I remember the things not worth remembering and forget everything else.

 I remember when the hardest decision I had to make was, “What ice cream flavor do I want

 I remember the days that were supposed to be fun but ended up being miserable, and the days that should’ve been awful but were actually great

I remember too much and too little. I have no choice over what gets kept in versus what gets left out. It’s ultimately not my decision. But I do know one thing: You can’t wrap your arms around a memory. That’s what “they” always say, right? Well, “they” are right

Tuesday, July 10, 2012


Kota ini terlalu kecil untuk menghindar. Menghindar dari apa yg gak perlu diliat ataupun menghindar dari hal-hal yang harusnya gak penting buat di dengar. Itu yang paling tidak menyenangkan. Gak bisa nyalahin org lain juga, krn permasalahan ternyata si hanny desky masih jalan ditempat :(

Monday, July 9, 2012


Everyone ends up being the person they said they’d never become.