Bandung, December 25, 2014
Christmas doesn’t matter to me much other than it grants me a holiday which I habitually spend by lying all day either sleeping or awake that it confuses my body clock resulting a headache afterwards. And as I’m typing these words, the clock reads 4:46 PM and I haven’t done anything particularly significant. And yes, I’m having this vaguely bothering headache but I will be an ingrate whom I hate if I don’t admit that today’s been a nice day – regardless of all the lethargy and indifference I’m currently engaged in. I have my cup of coffee with me and this lovely drizzle showering the roofs composing comforting sounds resembling a placid lullaby but no, I’m not going back to sleep.
Such atmosphere always floats my mind away to the fluently predicted direction: you. Dammit, I’m a sucker when it comes to you. Like any other people who are in love, and I am truly blessed to know that I AM in love with the same person perpetually, I wonder what you’re doing at this instant. But I guess I have an idea since we got in touch a few hours ago. I assume you’re still working on hundreds of wedding invitations which are due tomorrow, am I right? Wait. “Am I right?”. I hate that expression for the self-righteousness it strongly contains and I just unconsciously used it. Possibly, my brain is too lazy to find the matching question tag to replace “am I right?”, which is “aren’t you?”. Yeah, “aren’t you?” is the right tag to replace “am I right?”. Ah, again, rightness. Can’t seem to escape it. Is there such thing as absolute rightness anyway? Is it measurable? Clearly I have a problem with it as to me personally, rightness hardly exists for the reason that it’s caged by subjectivity of the pertinent party. What’s right for me is not necessarily right for others. And one thing I know for sure is that rightness does not always prevail.
So here’s what I’ve been meaning to say. If I were to distinguish between happiness and its opposite, I’d simply juxtapose them to white and black. As to why, I see white as a bright, stainless, blank, sterile, zero slate. White effortlessly soothes you, doesn’t it? Not to mention it symbolizes simplicity – plain and trouble-free. In contrast, black portrays darkness, wickedness, gloom, and whatever on the contrary of white. But don’t judge me just yet. I see beauty in black. It vies with white for nearly everything. Happy people are beautiful but so are the sad ones. Happy people are beautiful in a way that they transmit positive vibrations even in the least form as simple as a smile to whatever they are surrounded with. As sad people, they are beautiful in a way that they are strong enough to survive and firmly cling onto whatever they have faith in. Obviously I need to give more vivid elucidation if only my brain hasn’t encountered its end of thinking capacity. This must be my mood playing games with me, minutes ago it gave me a brainwave about this black and white issue but it gives me walls along the way as I’m trying to write it down.
Shortly it’s a white Christmas for me – minus snow, minus celebration. Simply because I’m happy today, December 25. This marks one year of my transformation’s hills and valleys, shades of black and white. I dare say I’m a better person than who I was last year and much much better, you come back to me – two things I can’t stop extending my gratitude for obtaining. My life is eventually recalibrated. I still can’t forget how dark the last Christmas was to me, though. In fact, worry is quietly crawling in my bare skin, the worry that stems from the reluctance to recall an excruciating calamity and profound wounds it caused. Frankly, I’m not really sure about writing it down – just thinking about it already makes my heart skip a beat. So I take a really deep sigh as if it will extinguish the searing rush of blood in my internals. I decide to give it a go.
Bandung, December 25, 2013
I never really like this coffee shop. I take some time scanning the menu, which is a futile effort because I know the coffee served here sucks – too sugary it will give you diabetes right at the moment you take your first step out of here. The baffling fact is that this I-can’t-say-the-name coffee shop seems to be the most well-established one in the city, it’s ubiquitous you will encounter one in every city corner, even two. I decide to have green tea latte as an alternative so the over-sweetness is more likely to tolerate. Is it only me or the room is indeed freezing? I can ask the waiter to do something about it but my damned clumsiness tells me to deal with it instead. I put my palms together and nervously rub them. I look around. It takes a lot to be here: courage, despair, vulnerability, faith, love. I glance at my black rubber watch that perches on my slightly trembling right wrist, it’s past three, we agree to meet after ashar so it’s reasonable that you’re not here yet. Besides, you’re not much of a punctual person anyway – sorry to say. You were late in our first date and the followings. Now this possibility of no more upcoming dates is abruptly saddening me.
I didn’t see it coming, not a single inkling. Of all the possible anomalies, not this one. Two weeks ago we still met and talked like always, I didn’t realize a still reef had leaked our ship. A fine façade it was, or was I tightly blindfolded that your crisis was so far beyond my ken? All I know was that you, out of the blue, came up with this ten-thousand-volt shocking decision. Resembling a computer whose plug is suddenly detached, I was immediately shut down. Dead. So here we are to talk about it. Hope-fueled but forlorn, I wonder whether I’ll stay dead or resurrect. It’s all up to you.
You’re wearing a gray polo shirt and khaki pants. Your lean face tells me you lost some weight, circles under your eyes tell me you lacked sleep, your gloomy face tells me we’re not okay. I hope I’m not reflecting myself when I describe you since I’ve been battling with the same issues. I look down to avoid your piercing stare, I just can’t take it. It’s not the same stare that used to infuse warmth to my chest, it’s turned to a dagger that stabs. Under this wooden table I notice, two feet away from mine, you’re wearing the sneakers I bought you for your birthday. You said they’re a bit too small yet I think they still look good on you, regardless.
Two hours later I realize it was a dead-end, what appears to be a negotiable matter. Another façade you neatly designed, I am desolately impressed. I don't want to dig too deep to details but we stop counting seven on a black Christmas. Severely heartbroken, I decide to wait instead. Days, weeks, months, even years. Bring it on. I love you and I have faith in you.
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