I had to take a few seconds break after I read the book. It was different with that time I’d finished Demian. With Demian it mostly questions and the unsatisfying feelings because it had ended in an unexpected place. But it was good; Demian was good. It was a mixed thought about freedom, seeking the truth, and controlling yourself. With Demian you would get the feeling about being yourself as a whole, and how you would get that trough knowing yourself. Well, it’s not a feeling; it is what Demian supposed to taught you.
Yet, Demian is not the book for everyone. I myself got a quite hard time understanding the book. It was beautiful; the book, but if you are not patient enough, you will not get the beauty of it. And it is different with this book about which I am talking right now.
I think I already live in lies for too long. Or maybe it is actually acquired in real life? I think I was trained to pretend so much until I didn’t know what is my actual intention. It is easy to talk to someone and pretend that you are truly care about them, and ignore them later. I did that too much, until finally when someone about which I really care come around, I don’t know what to do to keep them. Someone in the back of my head repeatedly tells me to be aware; to be cautious to everything. It anxious me. What if this person -the one which I really care- leaves me like I did to everyone else? What if it’s something like a karma? And thanks to that, up until today I don’t have anyone who I actually consider as my best-best friend.
Last night I dreamed about you again, for the first time in this month. I don’t really know why you appeared in my dream again, since we have no actual interaction in these past months. Legend says that when you dreamed about someone, that someone is missing you. I hope it is true, then. I hope you miss me as much as I miss you. Oh, I feel so embarrassed when I typed that.
based on this post on tumblr
“Be happy, okay?” he said as he beamed ear to ear, totally oblivious to his surrounding. His eyes were fixated only to the boy opposite him, who wore an old black glasses, but he didn’t mind the slightest about that.
“What do you mean by that,” the opposite boy whispered. “We’ve lost our everything.”
“At least you still have me.”
It was the new year night. The gunshot was concealed by the sounds of fireworks. It was classic; nobody would hear that, nobody would notice the difference. Even though it was night, he barely needed his torch. The sky was full with fireworks, one after another, blasting in the middle of nothingness. It was beautiful, but he barely saw it. He was busy crying after the dead body.
His glasses were reflecting the firework’s color. Red, green, red, blue. They were flashing one by one, like the colored spotlight on the stage. This was indeed a stage, he thought. This was the stage when the main character was dead, and he himself was both the villain and the victim. He killed this body, but he mourned it as well.
Hari ini tidak turun hujan. Cuacanya tidak panas dan tidak dingin. Ada sebuah kelembapan di udara yang menggantung tidak pasti; mungkin hujannya turun nanti, atau mungkin sedetik lagi, atau tidak sama sekali. Awan-awan di langit saling bersentuhan satu sama lain, berkejar-kejaran di langit, tetapi sepertinya mereka tidak akan menangis untuk beberapa jam ke depan.
Aku baru saja menyelesaikan Kafka on the Shore. Kini aku menatap ke jendela kayu beberapa meter di depanku. Ia terbuka, memperlihatkan sebuah pemandangan langit sore yang tenang. Bingkainya membatasi antara dinding dan langit, seolah-olah membentuk sebuah lukisan realis yang sangat nyata sedang tergantung di dinding. Seperti lukisan yang ada di dalam buku.
Ada satu titik di dalam tubuh ini, di mana ia mencoba dengan segenap hati dan jiwanya untuk muncul ke permukaan. Namun titik ini selalu kalah oleh teman-temannya; ego, otak, tangan, pikiran, dan teman-temannya yang lain. Titik ini sudah bosan berada di dalam, namun otak selalu membentaknya jika ia memaksa untuk keluar; apa kau tidak malu dengan dirimu sendiri?
Ini pagi empat November. Sudah kuobrak-abrik kamar asramaku, tetapi kunci itu tidak bisa kutemukan. Kunci motor sialan dengan gantungan oli Top One berwarna kuning cerah itu seperti hilang ditelan bumi. Sudah keempat kalinya aku membalik selimutku, membalik buku-bukuku, dan entah keberapa kalinya aku memandangi rak di mana seluruh peralatan mandiku terletak. Tetap tidak ada. Kunci motor itu lenyap.
Hari itu tanggal tiga November. Aku sedang berjalan ke kamarku di lantai dua asrama ketika aku terpeleset dan mematahkan leherku. Saat itu hujan deras sedang turun sehingga tidak ada yang mendengar suara berdebum tubuhku yang jatuh ke dasar tangga.
Entah bagaimana, aku terjatuh dengan posisi kepala berada di dasar tangga, dan kakiku masih berada di tangga. Yah, gampangnya aku berada dalam posisi terbalik; kepala di bawah, kaki di atas. Lucu sekali bagaimana aku melihat darah yang bercampur dengan air hujan mengalir dari dalam tubuhku, menyebar ke lantai, membuat noda menggenang yang berwarna merah terang. Dari sudut mataku aku melihat tanganku yang tertekuk dengan aneh. Mungkin tanganku patah juga. Entahlah. Aku sudah mati rasa sejak kehujanan tadi.
Have you ever think about dangerous thing? Like, how will it feels when you slammed your body to the road, or how will your fingers will survive if you drag your hands while your motorcycle is running. Have you?
Maureen lifted her tote bag, it was heavy on her left hand. Her right one felt like burning. She stared at her right palm for the God knows how many times. The red lines were still visible. Even though the scars were slowly healing, she still can felt the, yes, burn, and she, somehow, satisfied.
She just cut her right palm, one right below her thumb, made long lines across her palm; one on her middle finger’s side; one on the pinky finger. With a fresh and clean razor blade, of course. She couldn’t deal with tetanus or something similar.
What if everyone wants to die? The thought emerged in Luce’s mind. He just saw one of the youngsters died this noon; hit by a large deep blue container truck, and flawlessly burst into sakura petals.
It was abnormally beautiful, if he set aside the hit-and-run accident and the death of that kid as well. It was like a scene in those animated movie; his head was turning into sakura petals right when the kid’s head hit the truck. His whole body followed afterward.