“It’s raining hard again today,” I would tell you, who are currently miles away from me. From the window right next to my desk, I can hear the slight drizzle turn into a torrential downpour in only a couple of seconds.
“Haven’t heard anything like rain yet,” you would echo back. It’s bone-dry where you’re staying, miles away from me. “Super quiet here.”
“No sign of rain yet? Not even the rain clouds?”
You would squint at the phone as the notification popped up. It’s getting dark, the lights are off, and the brightness level hasn’t been adjusted yet.
“I don’t know, it’s getting dark and I can’t tell if it’s the clouds,” you would type down. “Maybe soon.”
I saw your reply and thought of what to say.
“You know, it’s funny but the rain kind of reminds me of you.” Enter.
“Remember last week when it’s almost time to go home and we thought it still rained? We stayed inside and talked. Can’t remember anymore about what most of them were, but it was an interesting convo. Oh, I remember the bit about your dog. How is he? You said he didn’t eat well, I hope he’s getting better now.” Enter.
“I knew it would be harder for you to catch a ride home if it rained again, so you had to go right after it stopped. But it was really fun talking to you.” Enter.
“Do you want to meet up again sometime? Let’s chat about whatever.”
My finger hovered at the “Send” button.
Highlight, delete.
“Huh, I guess the weather’s different over there. Don’t forget to check the forecast before you go tomorrow! Bring an umbrella.” Send.
I love it when it rains. You know I do.
I’ll tell you every time, but I guess you don’t have to know the reason why. At least, maybe, perhaps, not today.
it stained my hands ochre red, crushing everything i had for you between my palms. i shouldn’t have spoken so soon, darling. i should’ve kept everything in a box, neatly, tightly wrapped, hidden away untouched.
i couldn’t tell when it all started. all i know is it felt like wild ocean waves, crashing, engulfing me in a still, quiet, empty space where it’s just you.
and in a moment, it was over. for a moment, i couldn’t breathe, intoxicated, suffocated, overwhelmed by everything that you brought through.
it all collapsed like a house of cards, and i am somewhere in the middle of it, helpless, breathless, bewildered yet still seeking your warmth.
It turns out I have been collecting memories these years, all along.
It never really made sense to me until I found bits and pieces of these recollections.
Songs, photographs, passing by places I used to visit every day, certain smells and fragrances.
Some songs that I used to listen to become… muddled, if that makes sense. If you listen to it often enough, it doesn’t really remind me of anything anymore.
However, some songs I did listen to religiously for a certain amount of time, then I stopped. I closed the lid and left it there for years.
Is it nice? I’m not sure. It feels nostalgic. It feels sad, and hopeful, and dreadful at the same time. Almost like I’m still yearning for something.
It does feel amusing thinking back to how it was. Decisions I’ve made and actions I’ve done were often very questionable, in retrospect. But I was also six to seven years younger. It makes sense.
I’m wondering if it’s the pandemic. How I’ve been spending most of my time inwards, with little interaction with others.
I’ve always had to ask for forgiveness. I would have to beg to know what I did wrong. I seldom get an answer, but I had to apologize nonetheless.
They rarely say anything back to me. Maybe an “Okay”, maybe it’s an “Alright, maybe I forgive you”.
That doesn’t change anything from them though. They’ll still stay silent. It’s like something changed them, they turned into an entirely different person, and I’ll never know the reason why.
I remember having a conversation about the movie Spirited Away with my friend in high school. It’s both of our favorite movie, and she was talking about the part in the movie that always made her cry.
I told her that I cried at the part where Chihiro met Haku for the second time. Later on, in the screenshot I put above, she asked Lin if there are actually two Hakus.
My friend said to me, “Really, Riz? I’ve always thought that part is a joke.”
In a chaotic, entirely novel universe; full of faces she never knew who are actively hostile to her, after losing the only two people she could depend on, he was the only one who showed kindness to her. It was gone in a second when he were with the bathhouse inhabitants.
“If she couldn’t work, do with her all you want.”
He didn’t say a word to her. He didn’t even look at her.
This one particular part still stuck to me to this day. I can see how people may see this scene as particularly lighthearted; but at that moment, at that point in time, with all the things going on, I saw myself.
It was a mess. I didn’t know what to do. I was never given an answer, none of the attempts I made changed anything. To this day, I still didn’t know why and what I did wrong.
I just felt like everything I was is wrong. How I look, how I dressed, how I presented myself, how I talked, how I laughed.
I’ve only received an apology once.
It was only for the way he told a particular thing to me, 5 years ago.
I didn’t remember what I said to him.
Did I forgive him, or did I not? Either way, my forgiveness won’t leave an impact in him whatsoever. He probably said it only because it crossed his mind that one time.
My forgiveness won’t change anything in his life, but what he did has changed mine. It’ll take me years to barely fix whatever he had done.
I’ve accepted that he’ll never know the extent of the damage he had left in me, how it still affect me to this day, how I have to try to not let this ruin the rest of my relationships, which has nothing to do with this,
but forgiveness, it seems, will take a lifetime for me.
I miss staying in places that speak in quiet murmurs.
I grew up in Jakarta. When people talk about cities that don’t sleep, Jakarta is definitely one of them. With its towering skyscrapers and bright lights and its constant buzz of cars and motorcycles and muted beats from nightclubs and dangdut shows at late hours, you’re guaranteed to find life 24/7. Even our traffic jams don’t stop at 11 pm.
I was born in Jakarta, grew up here, and still live here. But I did not spend all of my 22 years here. For at least two years, my parents raised me in the literal middle of nowhere in East Kalimantan. It was the early 2000s, and I haven’t started school yet. I couldn’t remember much but it was one of the best places you could spend your childhood in, with all the clean air and nature and wildlife and whatnot. I spent a lot of my time collecting dead insects, watching monkeys at a nearby port, and watching insects swarm streetlights at night.
My mom has always said that East Kalimantan had the best night sky she has ever seen in her entire life. It was like directly gazing onto a sea of stars. No bright city lights and skyscrapers to pollute the night sky.
The downside was, well, it was a literal middle of nowhere. There were no hospitals. Sometime around my stay there, I was diagnosed with asthma and also started getting heartburns. I was three years old, it was probably when I was in Jakarta that I got diagnosed because there was only a small clinic there in East Kalimantan. My mom was expecting my sister a year later, so I had to return to Jakarta with her while my dad stayed.
I went on vacation to Pekalongan last year with my family. It was the farthest we’ve ever gone for a vacation since 2013. Our first night staying, it surprised us to find some parts of the town that has its stores closed at 8 pm. It was quiet and calm at 9 pm. I slept soundly that night.
One thing about Pekalongan is even though it’s /quiet/ in terms of the stores closing and no huge malls and massive skyscrapers nearby, it was not quiet in other terms. There were huge container trucks coming and going all the way to late night hours that my dad mentioned that it’s kind of unnerving driving around the city with so many huge vehicles around.
I often miss how quiet it can be in small towns and cities that are, well, not a hustling, bustling metropolitan city like Jakarta. Granted, I’m pretty lucky to live in a side of the city that’s not as sleepless, but just by going out a little bit from my neighborhood, I can already feel a big atmosphere change. It’s packed and it’s almost never quiet. Things have only changed now with this pandemic that people don’t have literal dangdut parties at 11 pm on Saturday nights anymore. And that’s probably only because they don’t want the authorities to barge in.
Making peace with myself has never been easier for me after I chose to take public transportation. It took me half an hour to forty five minutes to reach my workplace and to go home each time.
At first, the thoughts were nauseating. I had plenty of time with myself and myself only. I listened to music. Read books. Scroll through social media. Anything to distract myself from them.
Now that I’m at home, I realize those small moments are a luxury. Commuting, or better, letting myself wander around without an exact destination is a form of catharsis for me. Having some time alone gives me a moment to reflect back on things that happened and reconcile conflicts I have.
constantly chasing a faint glimmer, a small chance one glimpse of hope, one ray of light, constantly grasping when all you claw at is empty space. a breath of fresh air, you’ve always thought stumbling forward not knowing what lies ahead, pitch black always into the same spot. space and time froze, taking your sweet time, you told the universe you have been catching your breath for years.
It’s almost like there was an invisible wall between us. Maybe, unconsciously, I didn’t want it. Me? Do I not want this?
Does it make sense when I think about what I have been longing for? Does it make sense when I consider those sleepless nights, those days where I can stare blankly at the wall for hours? What am I chasing after? What am I looking for? Who have I been longing for?
Not this. Not the remnants of what was. We both know that we are no longer ourselves anymore. I don’t know you. You don’t know me either. We’re strangers, trying to piece together parts of what we thought were there.
ak.da.si 