elysian @fidelysiana - Tumblr Blog

Is having to much emotions a sin?

I once knew a soul. This one soul, who has been a fighter from the beginning; who has always been the shenanigan of its own heart beat, that more often than not, could only flutter to the edge of existence, only to be able to grasp the corollary's exclamation mark of its every hope it endures so dearly

This one soul; who was incarcerated in this morally-degraded humanity; who gazed in repellent disbelief to the idea of living, with only platitude to hold on to; to the idea of one's conscience being emasculated, skinned, burned, to the point where one vindicated the act of misconceptions;

Non-restorative sleep is not the adverse effect of withholding pain

Borderline atrocious is now considered as benevolence, when it comes to the act of contravening one's own aptitude to feel deeply

Digression from being pled guilty by the society for the incapability to drizzle the world sympathy, to being condemned for having too immense of a heart is, as matter of fact, a normality; until 'the drama queen' was the only identity it had the right to embrace

Talking about what really matters by being completely open into the very core of oneself is, in fact, the abominable violation of one's own secrecy, and hence, the label of debility shall rest upon its shoulders

Not only this should have considered as the first-degree murder of the soul itself, but also the defamation of its viability

This one soul wanted to exonerate itself so badly, it often even ponders the conduct of disrupting the balance of the universe

Yet, all it ever did was to become an escapee;

An escapee of its own life-

Is this pronouncement still too subtle for the visually impaired being to actually envision the tragedy those misconceptions has led to?

Does this one soul have to proclaim its agony to the relevance of physical trauma?

Is it supposed to bleed profusely out of its every open wound, as much as it has always been into its own body cavity; in order to be adequately seen as a valid affliction?

Are its legs' muscles supposed to be torn into million layers until finally acknowledged that the running has never been based on the intention to hurt another soul, but rather to thwart the hurt from its extravasation into the recess of what was left of its own quintessence?

And that the running has been as exhausting for it as being the one to be put the blame on for the continuing relationship's failure it has gone through?

Again, the question should be raised;

How did it get into this?

What happened to forthrightness?

How did burdening the verdict of guilty upon the victim's shoulders become justifiable?

Was the slippery slope argument not just a philosophical concept anymore? That when the one exception to a law is followed by more exceptions, it would progress until a point is reached that would initially have been unacceptable?

Is what needs to be faced now no longer just a stigma, but a dogma?

How good should the story be, to emulate a dogma?

How bright red does the bleeding wounds have to be, to be noticed as a not fraud-inflicting trauma?

How many verse more does it take for the suicide anthem to be echoed, before the other person realized it was already too late, and impossible to find the pulse, anywhere?

Is the other person aware of his pain-inflicting conduct?

Does the other person still think that having the ability to feel everything deeply equals to being a crybaby, and that is not acceptable in any way?

Does the other still loathe the presence of lackadaisical being in this harsh, harsh world?

Does my capacity to feel need a pardon?

He was chosen, once

And he will always be chosen, anytime, unquestionably

But, the frequency he has been emitting was too bizzare to be deciphered

He is, sadly, prone to, (not sadness), but negligence

Human is believed to have two sides of self

But, regrettably, his scintillating appeal scarcely appear, compared to his demanding tendency

Everything has always been about him, from the beginning of it all

And the probability that it's going to stay that way is almost definitive

He is so easy to be fond of, everyone would tell, especially those who have not known his other side

But the chasm the love leave, once it's given to him is too real

Not that love needs a reward

No, love is supposed to be unconditional, I understand

But his proclivity to be the only subject of any beneficial exposure can be such a disgust, it could numb even the most thin-skinned being

I love him; that is beyond doubt

And I've been committed myself to continue that act until the end

But, it's only been less than two months,

and I'm already coughing this purulent poem

It's not to say that I want to start being dubious about my own decision

But, would I be willing to sacrifice my dignity to become such apathy, only for the sake of keeping this relationship's flame burning; even if I should be the one doused in gasoline?

They say that people don't change;

The person you met for the first time and the person you are with right now, will be the same person you're going to spend the rest of your life with;

So then, it's okay for him to (indirectly?) insist me to suppress my emotions for the sake of his comfort?

And I'm supposed to just stay quite, watching him wring every last drop serotonin out of my veins?

I'm supposed to be the one fathoming and absolving, always?

Do I even have the right to refuse to give my mercy for the things he has done, which until now, is still not deemed as misdeeds?

Is having the audacity to utter raw emotions considered as a sin?

Have I asked this?

Why isn't he answering?

- fidelysiana // 'The Screech'

A chivalry-embodied gent

Such appeal; well-carved feature, too well-engraved visage; whom anyone would believe, was by the hands of The Almighty Himself

With blandness so palpable, scarcely improbable for every curiosity to fondle the aftereffect

Hundreds of millimicron stardust extricating from this unflawed cohesion

With hands so parche-ing, and pneuma so vivisection-ing;

I was beyond quenched by this imploding emotional incontinence

Why, of course, it would have been ingratitude to not embrace such marrow of life

(Though) this worn-out battered beating old satirist, did (nothing) but rising its very rate;

70; 94; 106

Oh, how it sounded like the swan song from the bleak grime of past

And how of an irresolution this gray matter had to endure

How the silhouette of 'the perpetrator', dancing circles around the longing of amelioration, atrociously

But those explosions, were not fiascos

(And) hence (that) implosion was not an allegory

My entire soul was the charcoal for its own lavage

But dear me; I was unable to bethink oneself of the (actual) liquefaction-ing liquid I had ingested

Why, then you, the audacious pheresis, transpired so acutely;

Ceasing these dusty irremediable eyes be the damsel of demise

It was fatal;

The (once-I-thought) lucid interval of such cardiac injury and hence the resurrection of mine

That other being left me pulseless; the suitable proclamation of the death of morality

Such repellent; the recuscitation was never able to breathe me to life but rather regurgitating another same elegy over and over again

And It is not going to be always a rectilinear affinity with you, I know that

But I'd rather be in an arrhythmic chaos than to exist (or not exist) without you

You; the adrenaline and hence the amiodarone of my dying heart

My most yearned defibrilator

My entire heart beat

If such situation befell us, insisting me to see fit between you and the full remission of the evergrowing anaplastic meningioma;

I would've paced into the path where I could spend the rest of my life gazing into the eyes of my dearest constellation

Terminally yours,

Cia

fidelysiana

The Nightmare

1. On a narrow alley filled with dinginess and darkness of human’s decency, there stood the old building with its four stories and such frangibility the sligthest graze could crumble its entire skeleton;

on a strait road surrounded by what felt like a motley of discontent and solitude, there I was, walking, weeping, alone, with tears of bereavement that were capable of, rather coming out of my eyes, oozing out of every pore of my heart, in a form of frequency of pandemonium,

incongrously striving to find a new host in another’s soul, anyone’s, to inhabit, just because the enormity of emotional laceration the fearmonger inflicted was too much.

And that was when I sensed it, the presence of another being beyond the wall separating me from that four stories; that was when I grabbed at the reaching-out hands from beyond the wall; that was when I made it to the other side of the wall and saw the person to which the hands belonged. It was you.

2. A stratled look evaporated from each of our faces; one in which the person involved were in disbelief that there still existed a serendipity to stumble on to each other again; a ‘conscious deception of not being infatuated toward each other’ look; one that felt like eternity; one to which I wanted it endure perpetually.

3. On a corridor of the second story of that old decaying building, we were walking together, in silence, in almost peace in fact; like the untogetherness you deliberately insisted me to live through had never occured at all.

And the longing, the longing for each other; the burning flame of yearning to feel the contours of each others’ arms; I swear it was there; I swear you felt that as well.

No words uttered, just walking, side by side, with the uncertainty of to where this, whatever this was, might lead.

4. On the rooftop of the old insconsolable building with the wind blowing the saltiest scent of the beach, we were holding hands. No, you reached out for my hand, and I embraced you.

And suddenly, the sun understood. Suddenly the aurora superseded the absence of light. Suddenly, everything seemed right;

that there could not be anything better than this moment; the moment when smile is nowhere near enough to express the gratitude one possessed being able to feel the warmth of the lost love one more time; the moment when one’s hand had finally gained its strength enough for one to ignite the fire within each other’s desire just by brushing palms – and we were.

We were burning.

We were burstling out sparkles of pure white fireworks, extricating hundreds and hundreds of bloomed lilac crowns into the horizon.

We were so happy we dived into the deepest part of each other’s eyes, enduring the unspeakable yet tangible raw fondness that was almost improbable to repudiate toward each other.

We were so happy, we could not stop giggling, laughing, hugging each other; dancing around the floodlights of the everrising sun; swaying together on a music of captivation and ebullience of each other’s existence, of the everlasting ending of this moment, of the evergrowing synchronizing frequency we were emiting toward each other.

I was so happy, I didn’t realize that our sparkles had shifted from pure white to cataclysmic black; that there was an aberration leaking out every source of our symphony until it only chimed sirens, hauling a feeling of falsity and hence of guilt; that I somehow already knew that this would happen but did nothing to stop it; that I was what was wrong, inflicting myself, you, us this tragedy; that I deserved every single thing that happened to my heart.

You looked at me in contempt, and I could only stared back in bewilderment.

Until, suddenly, an epiphany came into my disbelief;

You shouldn’t have been here.

5. Everything went black.

6. Opening my eyes; tears obscuring my sight; myself grieving over the man who was supposed to stay dead; the man whose enigma tasted nothing but sour; the man who was never the symptom but rather the entire derangement of the senses itself; the man who never even said goodbye.

7. This poetry, prose, or whatever you want to call it, is the elegy of the perjury I commited then. It’s either a self-healing process or to annihilate the self itself.

Eitherway, I can’t contain such tormenting hyperthymesia;

I can’t handle this debilitating idea of you being gone;

I can’t not write you.

This is me accepting that you’re leaving. This is me realizing that you’re not coming back, and being okay with it; that the once-wristling firework of your love for me had died out, and isn’t going to be able to be rekindled anymore. This is me succeeding to grasp the fact that it was real; that we indeed happened; that you did love me; that there was nothing but reciprocity between the ties of our cores. But sometimes, things just end. Things start and end. Sometimes, that’s the only thing that should happen, regardless the reason. That no matter how goodbye being the saddest word i know, i have to swallow it to its lair wholeheartedly down my throat, for the sake of ‘the greater good’. Or maybe the fondness just stopped being there. Maybe it was that simple. Maybe the flame of my love overwhelmed you too much it made your love for me charred. Maybe the atmosphere of our hope was no longer probable to remain just befit, it diluted what was left of our affinity until it flooded the once-empty space of the shells of our own ego. That no matter how an allegiance you promised to preserve me with was; that no matter how drained, consumed, and worn-out my soul was, writhing wrestling my logic with slurs of hypocrisy like adversaries; that no matter how galore the love i possessed for you; i couldn’t stop you from leaving. This is me thanking you for the things you did. For letting me feel you tumbling in love with me crazily; for making me feel undeniably adored and loved, that you willingly literally crossed the ocean just to be able to be with me, that you never let a single man belittle my worth by any form of their deeds; for letting me give you my clumsy messy love and still be the adult that I need, the only adult i was fond of with, out of consanguinity. This is me forgiving you for the things you did not do. For not taking me to your house to meet your mother; for not letting me be the only controller of my own existence; for not only being the ray of sunlight for my empyrean but also the supernova whose collision with my atmosphere cried out a violent yearning to have the people around you feel your aftermath. Until you landed on my ground then chose to disappear. Until i was trapped in the chasm you left from the remnants of your presence. Until i was left with nothing but my own wrecked, bled-out, and burnt-out self. You are the embodiment of the essential despondency and inexplicable perfidy; and i forgive you for that. This is me knowing that sometimes, the best thing you can do for someone you love is to let them go. That i have to do what’s right. That i have to stop being selfish and start to learn to think that it’s not always about me. That love is never about me, but rather your exuberance. That some day, ‘the day’ will come, that particular joyful day of the union of you and her, ‘your day’, and i’m going to be able to face that wholeheartedly and just be happy for you; as absurd as it sounds right now. That one day, the thought of you living a life happily without me won’t hurt so much anymore; no matter how impractical it seems right now. This is my acceptance that some day, i’m going to be able to delineate the definition of love as another human being, rather than exclusive to your eyes, your kiss, your existence. That i’m going to love another man, and by love i mean be fond of, rather than a shallow infatuation which is solely temporary and risky; and then be able to stop comparing him to you as if you were the standard depiction of a perfect lover myself made. So this is me, complying the expiration date tattooed on our quintessence; shedding all what was left of my ineffable yearning for our do-over; unclasping my tied ankles off of your core. This is my farewell, my valedictory, my final endeavor. This is me letting you go.

fidelysiana

The Death of The Loved One

This is not a hate letter. This is not even a ‘I-blame-him-for-being-the-only-one-escaping-unscathed’ poem. This is just me pouring the blood-red tears out of my soul. This is just me trying to make amends of every foolish deed I have ever done, for stooping so low it made you it made you feel worthy enough to spit on my existence. How I did not believe it when you said you just wanted to let things flow, did not really seem to think anything serious more than cliché online chats, pointless midnight phone calls, or empty flattery slurs. How I was in love with you (read: infatuated with the idea of you), how I was so blinded by the illusion that my feeling toward you was reciprocal, how I thought I was the one who did the reciprocity. Until you destroyed my delusion by saying (and I quote) that you have ‘started to be able to requite (my) feeling bit my bit’. While you were the first one who made contact with me, the one who said ‘I am fond of you’ and called me ‘(your) dearest’; how you thoughtlessly uncalculatingly inconsiderately filled the void in my heart wtih alluring grail of dreams, decorating the air I breathe with a palpable pure joy, like a pacemaker to a dying heart; how it resonated with my core.

You; the modest yet vivid flame; the man whose ignorance and conscience were ambiguously out of place; whose atmosphere was in motley of frequency, improbable to be deciphered as superficial as a youth infatuation, though all the evidence was crystal clear, scattered around every conversation we poured out to each other.

You; the constellation filled with stars whose charm was so dazzling I could not fathom it into sanity, whose eyes were so suffused with inconceivable, inexplicable and altogether bewildering expectations I was too undeserving to come nearby; whose voice was beyond seductively holy and simultaneously venomous I was too unworthy to gulp down a single stillicide of an explanation.

The idea that one can be so evil, the cruelty emerges with every atom of his being, and still not be considered as as in.

But who am I judge?

I am just a woman who does not know how to not wear her heart on her sleeve.

I am just a woman who only knows how to love beyond her risks, to push past boundaries; who only knows that the only way to stop being empty is to fill another void no matter how a menacing effort it is to her very existence; how she always choose to give and give and give and does not know when to stop; not until what was left of her was only the menagerie of betrayal and regret.

But I’m not here to talk about myself. It’s you I want to tell the world about.

How you made it so perfectly real; the idea of you and me; the idea of you wanting me in your life; the idea of you wanting me to want you in my life, which is only based on the understanding that you were the first one who meant to want something longterm-ish with me; while in reality never meant anything toward me at all. Because frankly, I was just solely a kenopsia of my own shell of conscience. And the recession of my perspicacity lately was merely the repercussion of my own idiocy; thinking that the desolation of my quiddity could be instantly obliterated simply by the touch of another soul.

I don’t really want to hold a grudge against you, myself, or even the situation in which I was trapped in. I don’t even want to condemn you for the cowardice you possessed by which you were averted to even utter a troupe syllable of goodbye; no matter how loathsome a screech that particular word ring to my ear. But I’d rather be shoved in the face by a handful of farewell than not at all. Because, God, the silence never sounded so loud and painful.

Then suddenly, the air felt heavy, filled with disgust of a man I thought I was falling tumbling writhing in love with. And suddenly, the electricity impulse that man had been supplying me just stopped being there. Suddenly, the pacemaker of my very beating heart just died.

You died.

Who killed you? Or rather I rephrase; what murdered you? Was it your principle? The one you stated that you just wanted to take things lightly, not wanting anything serious, because you still want to have fun and be free with your friends, your own life?

Or was it fear? Fear that I couldn’t meet your expectations; that I was too much of a hurricane for you to handle; that when we finally met face to face you got the epiphany of how real this would be? Was that when the cowardice set in? Was that when you decided to just walk away without having the audacity to even close the door? Or has the valediction been already reflected all along in the last syllables you sent me that night; but it was only I who failed to grasp it with my fumbling hands?

I am done wrestling with hypocrisy while my soul is screeching in agony for this occurrence in front of my very own eyes. Experiencing you metamorphed from just ‘another silly boy’ to an ‘almost significant one’ debilitated me into mourning; not for the self I thought you were, but rather for the self I was before meeting you; how I was pathetically and hopelessly in the state of believing that I was too unworthy to be deserving a love that’s not a deceit.

I am hurting. And I’m admitting it galantly. I’m not gonna deny any of the fact that you have wrecked my dignity; taking away every last molecule of oxygen within my brain I could have used to at least try to make sense of any of this. You left me wondering why, forever. You could have just murdered me instantly, but you chose to make me feel unworthy, all my life. And God, I would condemn you to the deepest layer of inferno for the sin you have done. I would never forgive you for that. You don’t deserve my mercy. You don’t deserve any of it.

And I am thanking no one for the self I am right now; for being awaken by the realization that sometimes (or many times), it’s not me; it’s them. That the idea that things just aren’t meant to be is not inflicted by my slightest action, but rather the other’s. That the best thing I can do is to just accept it and walk away; but still without denying the fact that I am still violently aching but thankfully healing. And despite the countless 3 a.m. of poetry-coughing nights and those skips of heartbeat whenever seeing your smile in the face of a stranger; the person I am going to become once the bleeding stops, will be the only person I am going to thank and love eternally.

So, loved one.

I dedicate this poetry for you; the glamorous yet destructive man.

But no worries, this will be the one and only poem I write about and to you. Because honestly, I don’t think I could stand you a second time, do I? So consider this as a gift of farewell; a plea to stay gone; and entreaty to stay dead.

But what’s a gift without regards? So, I think I’m going to thank you for one thing.

Despite the odds that we could’ve been so much more if you could’ve just let me love you beyond my storm. Oh, honey, I would’ve loved you so hard to addiction.

Despite the fact that you chose the easy path and just walked away with your malicious egocentric so-called heart.

I am going to thank you for this particular thing.

Thank you for your death.

Thank you for being done pulsating my arteries.

Thank you for being here once and being gone now.

For the death of you has brought the rebirth of me.

For the death of you has insisted me to be my own source of heartbeat.

For the death of you, my loved one, has made me find me.

#newshit

This is me accepting that you’re leaving.

This is me realizing that you’re not coming back, and being okay with it; that the once-wristling firework of your love for me had died out, and isn’t going to be able to be rekindled anymore.

This is me succeeding to grasp the fact that it was real; that we indeed happened; that you did love me; that there was nothing but reciprocity between the ties of our cores. But sometimes, things just end. Things start and end. Sometimes, that’s the only thing that should happen, regardless the reason. That no matter how goodbye being the saddest word i know, i have to swallow it to its lair wholeheartedly down my throat, for the sake of ‘the greater good’. Or maybe the fondness just stopped being there. Maybe it was that simple. Maybe the flame of my love overwhelmed you too much it made your love for me charred. Maybe the atmosphere of our hope was no longer probable to remain just befit, it diluted what was left of our affinity until it flooded the once-empty space of the shells of our own ego. That no matter how an allegiance you promised to preserve me with was; that no matter how drained, consumed, and worn-out my soul was, writhing wrestling my logic with slurs of hypocrisy like adversaries; that no matter how galore the love i possessed for you; i couldn’t stop you from leaving.

This is me thanking you for the things you did. For letting me feel you tumbling in love with me crazily; for making me feel undeniably adored and loved, that you willingly literally crossed the ocean just to be able to be with me, that you never let a single man belittle my worth by any form of their deeds; for letting me give you my clumsy messy love and still be the adult that I need, the only adult i was fond of with, out of consanguinity.

This is me forgiving you for the things you did not do. For not taking me to your house to meet your mother; for not letting me be the only controller of my own existence; for not only being the ray of sunlight for my empyrean but also the supernova whose collision with my atmosphere cried out a violent yearning to have the people around you feel your aftermath. Until you landed on my ground then chose to disappear. Until i was trapped in the chasm you left from the remnants of your presence. Until i was left with nothing but my own wrecked, bled-out, and burnt-out self.

You are the embodiment of the essential despondency and inexplicable perfidy; and i forgive you for that.

This is me knowing that sometimes, the best thing you can do for someone you love is to let them go. That i have to do what’s right. That i have to stop being selfish and start to learn to think that it’s not always about me. That love is never about me, but rather your exuberance. That some day, ‘the day’ will come, that particular joyful day of the union of you and her, ‘your day’, and i’m going to be able to face that wholeheartedly and just be happy for you; as absurd as it sounds right now. That one day, the thought of you living a life happily without me won’t hurt so much anymore; no matter how impractical it seems right now.

This is my acceptance that some day, i’m going to be able to delineate the definition of love as another human being, rather than exclusive to your eyes, your kiss, your existence. That i’m going to love another man, and by love i mean be fond of, rather than a shallow infatuation which is solely temporary and risky; and then be able to stop comparing him to you as if you were the standard depiction of a perfect lover myself made.

So this is me, complying the expiration date tattooed on our quintessence; shedding all what was left of my ineffable yearning for our do-over; unclasping my tied ankles off of your core.

This is my farewell, my valedictory, my final endeavor.

This is me letting you go.

#theend

11 am

11 am, may 5th, Friday The sun shines bright, so bright indeed, but the wind.... The wind is blowing hard, so hard in fact It throws me back to the place I've tried so hard to escape; the place filled with smoldering-flame of resentment; the place seared with shattered pieces of burnt-hope; the place inhabited by a living but dying love left long time ago by the one who chose to think that it was too overwhelming for him to accept The blood-stained wall, yes, the wall stained with blood of grief, remorse, regrets; still bore once-wounds fragile enough to reopen The old photographs scattered surrounding the floor along with leaves of dead lilacs and wings of dead butterflies This place This very familiar old place This cursed place i most hated with all my being, yet also being missed by my atoms the most Oh how i admitted it, how i would’ve admitted a million times that i missed it, i missed this, i missed you. You, the person that once shone my lightless world, the particular person who once didn't care what to get from me only what to give for me, the one whose touch was the only thing i could think of when my hope started draining out, the man whose existence i was beyond thankful for. Remember when you brought me to the church that day? When you told me that you were willing to take care of my complicated being and were going to be okay with that? Well, i do remember. And oh how i would've given all the tears of pleading i had to God to be able to relive that exact moment and stay there for eternity. But the tickling clock kept pounding countless wasted seconds I've thrown away for digging up this old hurt, yes, the very clock that i held tightly in the palm of my expectation, too tight in fact, that even my pulse begged me to just stop, to just stop gazing away to the direction you once walked away, to just stop sinking into deep water of memories trying so hard, too hard to find the slightest layer of affection you once threw away when you chose to choose her, to just stop unburning the ashes of mountains of promises you yourself set on fire, to just stop watering those dead lilacs; to just stop hoping. To just start unchaining my bloody ankles out of you; just unrope my blistered wrists out of the fantasy of you; to just free myself out of this delusional world and realise that this has got to end. This has got to stop pouring the electricity through me like the static in a thunderstorm every time I step my feet into that very church and you are all I could think of. This needs to stop making me question my worth of deserving a better thing every time I'm reminded by the fact that you left just because you wanted someone 'better'. This really must stop collapsing my world, insist me to endure the suffering, the suffering caused by your loathsome betrayal, on my own. Oh, how this, whatever this is, has got to end. And this ends now.

#thisendsnow

The thing about the pain is that it needs to be felt. Why? Are you serious? Why? Because that's how you get over it! That's how u deal with it! Once u surrender yourself to be in that circumstances, to feel the crushing of your heart; to feel the agonising screaming of your aching soul until it's like you can actually hear the moaning sound, the yearning of being helped, once you overcome all of these astonishing soul-breaking experience, you will be a fucking stronger being than ever! How is it possible? Because nothing lasts forever my sweet cupcakes! Not even your sleepless nights crying over him doubting your worth to him; not even your motherfucking tremendous agony of seeing him loving other woman while recalling all of the promises he ever said to you to spend his entire life with you like he meant it. But you know what? Fuck him! Hell yeah you are worth it! But the fact that he wasn't able to see your worth doesn't mean that you aren't! Fuck him right?! There will be someone out there who would climb the highest mountain in the world and even would dive the deepest ocean of the universe to just prove you that you are worth every precious thing in the whole galaxy to give. So for now, it's okay to feel the pain. You don't need to rush. You'll get better, eventually. Just enjoy the pain how you like it. Only by remembering that you are worth it. You are fucking worth it. So don't even try to think to hurt yourself okay? Cause it's not healthy. Just hold on for a little longer my dear, just stay alive. I know you can do this. Cause it won't last forever anyway, so just enjoy the pain. And without you even realize, the joy will come right in front of you. The pain you've been dealing unbearably will be vanished. The aching soul of yours will eventually be healed and beautiful again. And if you're lucky, you will find the one who would dare enough to take you out of the hell you've been living for so long back to the paradise you actually belong from long time ago. And i promise you, my angel, this will all be happening to you soon. Just hold on okay? And you will behold it yourself.

A letter to myself

confessionsinprose-blog

inspired by Jasmine Mans’ poem “Dear Ex Lover”

“Dear Ex Lover:

I promise to stop chasing your memory in my dream”

I will stop tight roping

the cracks you left in my smile.

I will no longer surf my tears

like the waves of a California ocean.

I promise to stop searching for your reflection

in the eyes of every Tom, Dick, and Dante

that crosses my path.

I will stop treating my heart like my father’s old pickup truck,

letting our memories backfire in my chest.

I will meet a man

and baptize myself in his love

like a Sunday morning.

I will hold him as if

your kiss didn’t leave footprints on the beach

of my heart

and when he asks me about my last ex,

I will pretend as if your name isn’t engraved

on the inside of my lungs

and that every “I love you”

I whisper to him isn’t tainted

by the very exhale of you.

4. He painted a velvet sky to the lightless empyrean of my soul. He gardened my awfully-fissured soil with seeds the most beautiful lilac and dandelion could ever have; watered it with the fluid of a wonderland's fountain, and the divine drops of an angel's tears. He bloomed every single hollow auditorium of my existence with purple roses and maroon edelweiss. He made the butterflies I was so fond of live again. He ressurected my soul.

Fidelysiana // "10"

My Journey With Jesus

Segala sesuatu terjadi untuk sebuah alasan. Sebenarnya tidak ada yang namanya suatu kebetulan. Segala sesuatu sudah seperti semestinya, seperti yang dirancangkan Tuhan atas hidup masing-masing manusia. Tanpa terkecuali, segala ujian dan pencobaan yang hadir dalam hidup tiap pribadi. Termasuk yang kualami sendiri.

3 tahun setelah ujian yang cukup mengguncang imanku, kali ini lagi-lagi aku dihadapkan pada suatu ujian iman yang bahkan lebih berat dari sebelumnya. Tentu saja lebih berat. Aku tahu, Tuhan sangat menyayangiku dan Tuhan mau aku semakin bertumbuh ke arah yang lebih baik, terutama dalam hal pertumbuhan imanku. Tentu saja dibutuhkan ujian yang lebih berat dan berkualitas untuk menguji iman dengan level berbeda dari sebelumnya. Aku tahu Tuhan ingin mendewasakan aku lebih lagi di dalam iman akan Dia. Tapi tetap saja, sebagai manusia biasa, aku masih sulit menerima semuanya dan menghadapinya dengan sabar.

Kegagalan-kegagalan yang kualami pada tahun itu benar-benar membuatku tak berdaya, secara mental dan bahkan fisik. Kegagalan atas usahaku dalam mewujudkan cita-citaku benar-benar membuatku tidak bersemangat lagi dalam menjalani hari dalam hidupku. Begitu besar keinginanku untuk menjadi dokter hingga aku tak dapat memikirkan apa yang akan terjadi dalam hidupku jika aku gagal mewujudkannya. Begitu rupa aku mencurahkan energi, otak, dan waktuku dalam usaha mewujudkan hal tersebut, hingga tanpa kusadari motivasiku yang seharusnya ialah ‘All from God; All for God’ telah jauh berubah menjadi sesuatu yang bahkan begitu tidak pantas untuk diungkapkan dengan kata manapun. Begitu rupa aku dibutakan dengan ambisiku untuk menjadi apa yang aku mau, hingga tanpa kusadari telah kututup hatiku dan tak lagi berusaha mencari tahu apa yang Tuhan mau. Begitu rupa aku disibukkan dengan segala hal tentang itu hingga aku meninggalkan pelayanan yang Tuhan percayakan kepadaku dan mengabaikan panggilannya.

Apa yang akan kau rasakan saat kau pikir kau sudah memberikan usaha terbaikmu, tapi kau gagal? Ya, seperti itulah yang kurasakan. Hancur. Kecewa. Putus asa. Hilang harapan. 3 tes yang aku ikuti untuk masuk ke perguruan tinggi kedokteran, 3 kegagalan yang aku terima. 3 kegagalan yang menyerangku berturut, bertubi-tubi, menghancurkanku dalam sekejap, membuatku serasa ingin mati. Aku makin dibuat hancur lagi karena mengetahui bahwa aku bukan satu-satunya pribadi yang kecewa dengan semua ini, namun 2 orang yang paling kusayangi di dunia ini juga merasakannya. Mengingat usaha mereka untuk membesarkanku selama 17 tahun aku hidup di dunia ini, bagaimana bisa aku membalas segala kebaikan dan kasih sayang mereka dengan kegagalan? Aku benar-benar kecewa dengan diriku sendiri.

Namun, aku begitu bersyukur Tuhan memberikanku kedua orang tua yang begitu sempurna, yang selalu mendukungku dalam segala situasi dan kondisi. Mereka mungkin kecewa, pasti. Tapi mereka tidak menunjukkannya, dan tetap menyemangatiku dan memberikan solusi agar aku mencoba lagi tahun berikutnya dan break setahun untuk mempersiapkannya benar-benar.

Tak mudah bagiku untuk menyetujui hal tersebut. Melihat teman-temanku yang bahagia karena sudah memiliki universitas, membuatku begitu sedih dan malu. Hanya sekitar 2-3 bulan aku mengikuti bimbingan belajar untuk persiapan tes, setelah itu aku berhenti. Aku merasa bosan dan jengah. Aku memutuskan untuk belajar sendiri di rumah. Namun, bukan hanya ilmu tentang tes tersebut yang aku terima. Tuhan Yesus ku yang begitu baik memberikanku pemahaman yang begitu luar biasa tentang hal-hal yang belum kumengerti dan bahkan yang salah kumengerti.

Bapa menyadarkanku bahwa seberapapun usahaku untuk mewujudkan apa yang aku mau, tetap kehendak Bapa lah yang akan terjadi; bahwa seberapapun aku mengingini sesuatu agar terjadi, tetap utamakan Tuhan diatas segalanya, terlebih dalam hal pelayanan kepadaNya; bahwa Tuhan mungkin tidak akan memberikan apa yang aku mau, tapi Tuhan pasti memberikan tepat seperti yang aku perlukan, yang terbaik untukku, pada waktuNya yang tepat; bahwa apa yang Tuhan berikan adalah selalu yang terbaik; dan bahwa aku tak perlu kuatir dengan apa yang akan terjadi dengan masa depanku, karena masa depanku ada di tanganNya, Bapa yang penuh kasih dan sayang.

Perlahan tapi pasti, Tuhan memberikanku kekuatan dan semangat untuk kembali bangkit. Dia membukakan mata hatiku dari ambisi duniawi yang busuk dan membuatku mengerti motivasi yang sebenarnya yang harus selalu kupegang kapanpun dan dimanapun; ‘All from God, All for God’, bahwa segala sesuatu yang kuinginkan, bahkan cita-citaku haruslah untuk menyenangkan hatiNya. Begitu besar kasih Bapa kepadaku, hingga pada akhirnya aku diijinkan untuk masuk ke salah satu perguruan tinggi jurusan Pendidikan Dokter di Bali. Mungkin tidak tepat seperti yang kuinginkan pada awalnya, tapi aku percaya bahwa ini tepat seperti yang aku butuhkan.

Kekuatan di jiwaku dan ketenangan dalam batinku ini, semuanya merupakan karuniaNya, Bapa yang memiliki kasih yang sempurna. Dia yang mengasihiku juga merupakan Dia yang mengasihimu, teman-teman. Masa depan kita ada di tanganNya, we don’t need to be worried about it. Percayakan hidupmu dalam tanganNya dan untuk kemuliaan NamaNya.

God bless you.

#JesusChrist almightyGod

The Almighty Jesus

Hidup adalah perjuangan; seperti itulah yang kerap kali dikatakan orang banyak. Namun, aku tak pernah menyangka aku sudah harus berjuang sedini ini, maksudku dalam hal usia. Aku pikir hanya orang dewasa saja yang harus berjuang dalam hidupnya; berjuang melawan segala permasalahan dan kesulitan mereka, bergelut dalam kemelut dunia orang dewasa yang kerap kali terlihat lebih rumit daripada benang-benang yang tergelut jadi satu. Ternyata, apapun dapat terjadi pada siapapun. Tak peduli usia, tak peduli jenis kelamin, tak peduli derajat sosial, tak peduli apapun.

Dihadapkan pada suatu ujian iman di usia 15 tahun bukan hal yang bisa dikatakan ‘lumrah’. Ya, itulah yang harus kuhadapi saat aku duduk dikelas 3 SMP. Lebih tepatnya saat aku sudah lulus dari bangku SMP. Saat semua temanku telah bersantai dengan kelulusan mereka dan telah mendapat SMA baru, aku masih harus ikut bimbingan belajar dari pagi hingga sore, dan dilanjutkan dengan belajar dirumah pada malam harinya. Saat mereka dapat berlibur tanpa rasa kekuatiran akan masa depan mereka, aku masih harus berjuang untuk masa depanku. Namun, ujian yang sebenarnya bukanlah soal-soal yang harus aku hadapi saat Tes Masuk SMA, melainkan ujian iman yang harus aku hadapi. Saat menyadari bahwa kesalahan kecil pun bisa menghancurkan segalanya, kesalahan konyol lebih tepatnya. Tes itu diselenggarakan dengan sistem LJK (Lembar Jawaban Komputer) dan pastinya harus menggunakan pensil 2B untuk mengisinya agar jawaban dapat terbaca di komputer. Namun, aku baru menyadari bahwa pensil yang aku gunakan bukan 2B pada hari terakhir ujian (hari ketiga). Kesalahan konyol itu menghancurkanku seketika itu juga. Seakan-akan semua daya upayaku untuk mempersiapkan ujian itu terbuang sia-sia. Sebagai manusia biasa, aku hancur, begitu kecewa dengan diriku sendiri. Aku menangis sejadi-jadinya di mobil, sepulangnya dari ujian hari terakhir itu. But, I’m so thankful to God for such perfect parents I have in my life. Mereka tidak menyalahkanku, tapi menenangkanku dan berkata ‘Serahkan saja semua ke dalam rencana Tuhan’. Ya, memang hanya itu yang bisa kulakukan. Saat pengharapan itu sudah sirna, yang bisa kulakukan hanya berdoa dan berserah kepadaNya, Sang Empunya Hidup, Pelukis Masa Depan-ku. Dan, segala kemuliaan hanya bagi Nama-Nya, Nama yang mengatasi segala Nama, Tuhan Yesus Kristus, Bapa segala terang, Allah yang teramat baik, oleh karena mujizatNya, aku diijinkan untuk lolos tes tersebut dan mendapatkan SMA yang terbaik untukku. Secara manusia, hal itu tidak mungkin terjadi. Karena pensil yang bukan 2B tidak akan terbaca oleh komputer. Tapi, tak ada satu perkara-pun yang mustahil bagi-Nya. Tangan Tuhan sanggup melakukan segala perkara untuk kemuliaan Nama-Nya.

Ini merupakan pengalaman iman-ku yang pertama dengan Bapa, dan merupakan pengalaman yang begitu indah dan takkan pernah terlupakan. Begitu kerasnya usahaku untuk mencapai apa yang ku mau, tapi Tuhan menyadarkanku bahwa semua itu sia-sia tanpa perkenananNya. Karena yang terpenting memang hanya perkenananNya. Pengalaman iman ini akan selalu menjadi pedoman dan semangat dalam hidupku, serta pengingat bahwa selalu andalkan Tuhan dalam setiap aspek hidup, karena Tuhanlah yang tahu yang terbaik untuk hidup setiap anak-Nya.

Mazmur 16 : 8 – Aku senantiasa memandang kepada TUHAN; karena Ia berdiri di sebelah kananku, aku tidak goyah.

AMIN.

#JesusChrist almighty

(P.S. This is old stuff. This has ended long time ago. But i kinda don’t want to delete it just because it’s a pretty good writing LOL. So just enjoy reading it, folks!)

Banyak orang berpikir bahwa cinta adalah hal terindah dari semuanya. Hal yang paling membuat mereka bahagia. Hal yang mampu memutar-balikkan kehidupan mereka 180 derajat. Hal yang membuat hidup mereka menjadi lebih berwarna dan penuh keceriaan.

Tapi, pernahkah mereka menyadari, bahwa cinta memiliki kemampuan di sisi lain yang bertolak belakang dengan itu semua. Cinta yang mampu membuat mereka bahagia, juga merupakan hal yang mampu membuat hati mereka merana sedemikian hebatnya. Cinta yang menjadikan hidup mereka berwarna, juga mampu membuat hidup mereka suram, abu – abu, bahkan hitam kelam. Mereka tidak pernah berpikir bahwa cinta yang membuat mereka selalu tersenyum, dan membuat mereka mampu memaknai hidup dan menghargainya, merupakan cinta yang sama yang mampu menempatkan mereka pada kekecewaan terparah yang bisa dialami makhluk hidup. Membuatnya menjadi hilang akal. Menghilangkan kemampuan mereka untuk mencintai dan menghargai diri sendiri.

Kebodohan universal; kebodohan akibat ketidaksadaran akan hal ini dialami hampir setiap manusia dimuka bumi ini. Termasuk diriku.

Begitu hanyut dalam buaian cinta. Dimabukkan oleh kenikmatan cinta begitu rupa. Hingga tak pernah menyadari bahwa di setiap pertemuan pasti ada perpisahan; yang menunggu saat yang tepat untuk datang menerjang. Memaksaku untuk menghilangkan kebiasaanku begitu saja; kebiasaanku untuk mencintainya. Begitu saja dia diambil dari kehidupanku dan dicampakkan dari hatiku. Membuatku merasa linglung karena tak tahu lagi bagaimana harus bersikap.

Hal itu sama saja seperti seorang pecandu yang mencoba lepas dari pengaruh heroinnya. Ya. Mencintainya merupakan candu bagiku. Sekalipun aku tahu bahwa berhenti mencintainya adalah pilihan terbaik yang harus kuambil dan kuwujudkan, agar aku terhindar dari bahaya kecanduannya yang semakin hari semakin kuat pengaruhnya, tetap saja aku berpikir bahwa hal itu adalah ide buruk untuk dilakukan. Karena berhenti mencintainya juga terasa seperti mencabut hujaman pisau dari jantungku. Penyebab kesakitan itu mungkin sudah hilang. Namun rasa sakit itu akan tetap ada disana hingga pada akhirnya jantungku berhenti berdetak. Dan kalaupun ada kemungkinan untuk pulih, bekas tikaman itu akan selalu ada disana. Lubang itu akan selalu ada; kosong melompong, dalam menganga. Ibarat sebagian dari jantung yang ikut tertarik keluar bersamaan dengan pisau tersebut, seperti itulah yang kualami. Penyebab kesakitan itu, dan bahkan rasa sakit itu sendiri sudah sirna. Namun bersamaan dengan sirnanya semua itu, sebagian dari diriku juga hilang bersamanya. Menimbulkan kehampaan yang begitu terasa, sangat membuatku tidak nyaman. Hingga aku tak tahu lagi bagaimana harus bersikap selain hanya berharap bahwa suatu saat nanti, akan ada seseorang yang mampu mengisi kekosongan itu dengan ketulusan yang sesungguhnya, bukan sekedar kepura-puraan yang memuakkan. Mengisinya kembali dengan cinta dan kasih sayang, bukan dengan belas kasihan yang dipaksakan. Menjahit setiap luka di hatiku; yang mungkin bahkan tanpa kusadari sampai saat ini masih berdarah. Merawat setiap luka itu dengan penuh kesabaran hingga hatiku menjadi pulih sepenuhnya dan kembali mampu melihat keindahan hidup.

Dan kau hadir dalam hidupku. Kau, Joeharta Bosforth Estelitto Joseph Kalalo, ternyata adalah pribadi yang selama ini kubutuhkan.

Aku menghabiskan seluruh hidupku menunggumu, Joeharta. Dan aku bahkan tidak mengetahui hal itu sampai kau datang. Dicampakkan olehnya adalah hal terbaik yang pernah kualami karena kejadian itu membawamu kepadaku. Aku ingin mati, tapi kau mengisiku dengan begitu banyak cinta sampai meluap keluar dan tak mungkin kucegah diriku yang balas mencintaimu. Kau mengatakan aku sulit sekali percaya apapun, tapi aku benar-benar percaya. Aku percaya akan cintamu padaku. Aku percaya akan cintaku padamu. Aku percaya bahwa setiap detak jantungku yang tersisa menjadi milikmu, dan aku percaya bahwa ketika aku akhirnya meninggalkan dunia ini, nafas terakhirku akan membawa namamu. Aku percaya kata terakhirku -Joeharta- akan menjadi satu-satunya yang kuperlukan untuk tahu bahwa hidupku indah dan memuaskan dan berharga, dan aku percaya bahwa cinta kita akan abadi selamanya.

Milikmu selamanya,

Fidelia Alicia Dipta Pranudia

(P.S. The last paragraph is credited to Andrew Davidson for I borrowed and rephrased his beautiful word from one of his novel a bit to express my feeling. Much love, Andrew!)

#andrewdavidson thegargoyle

mindinmyhand

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