noni

she’s online

[shutupmidori]

over the past few months, i have met new people, gained a lot of genuine and meaningful connections… something i didn’t know i’m capable of doing until i’m finally doing it subconsciously by letting life takes me wherever it wants. it feels like i’m facing the old shell i used to live in. i came out of it one day, starts roaming around until i finally came back and had to face it again. there it is. i was there for a very long time until someone reached out a hand and take me away from this shell to show me that there’s so much more than i’ve yet to see in this world. and to be completely honest, I AM SCARED. i feel very alone somehow. it’s like i’m a kid again, trying to learn something new. to have people who actually care enough to reassure me that i’m not alone, that’s new. it’s been easier for me to accept a situation where i’m being left alone than to have someone who’d actually be there for me. because most of my life i’ve been constantly told and being shown that i will always end up alone that, at some points, i ended up believing it. i’ve made peace with it, even.

but lately, life has been proving me wrong about that and i’m starting to think that it’s important for me to get used to it.

[shutupmidori]

my mother is getting older. one day, she will be gone and i will be left alone. because my brothers don’t care about me as much as she does and she’s the only one who’d understand how it’s like to be a woman in this home.

[shutupmidori]

i miss everyone

[shutupmidori]

i’ve been walking the opposite way

ignoring the abyss, passing by the rain

and the fear of being preyed

in your eyes, i saw a maze

there, i reside

wishing that i could pause the time

only to figure you out

so i touch the ground,

caress the grass,

carry my wounds,

near death,

i lay them to rest

you stretch out the hands that you held others when they bleed with

to me, you said “it’s just as bad”

tending them won’t do

and who knows what i’ll turn into?

but as long as you let me,

i will hold you

[shutupmidori]

i don’t know if this is like a trauma thing or not but whenever someone says they don’t deserve me, i get scared and slowly withdraws. because it’s not the first time and the last time someone did say that to me and or about me, they leave almost immediately. it’s like a sign of the time, that somehow mine is nearly up and the work that i was doing is almost done. it’s like i was made to be abandoned all the time. it’s like i don’t mean anything to anyone ever when having my existence to mean something to someone is the only thing that i’ve ever wanted in life.

what’s the point of staying if someone says that i don’t belong, right?

[shutupmidori]

6 years was a long time ago

and i should’ve died with whatever was left of me then

[shutupmidori]

[shutupmidori]

it’s funny to think that i used to hate my own name that i once made up a new one when i was a kid. i asked my mom of what my first name meant back in junior high, which i later found out that it actually meant “angel” in sanskrit.

i can’t remember the day where i’ve decided that i’m going to embrace the name. but i recently had realize of how silly it was for me to hate it. and for me, it’s not just about what it meant but also about the fact that my own mother took time and care to find this beautiful name for me.

i still have a hard time to believe in my own name. but if my mother believed that that was the perfect name for me, then i guess i should too.

[shutupmidori]

“Aku sekarang tau kalo jalan lurus ke sana, nembusnya ke Cipete,”

“Iya, memang. Dulu aku kalo pulang ke rumahku yang di Cipete, biasanya suka lewat situ,”

Today, I had a dream about that house in Cipete. In the dream, I checked in to a hotel with my Mom and when we go out to the balcony, it turned out to be the house I used to grow up in. A couple lived there now, a man and a woman who were both nurses in Setia Mitra Hospital (a hospital nearby, which was actually the hospital where my Dad had a surgery once). The man was abusive, both physically and verbally. The woman was passive, eating up every single abuse that was given like it’s her daily meal. The man left her outside on the carport, he entered the house through the door near the garage—just like how we used to do it. The front porch was still as useless as ever. I witnessed it all from the balcony. The woman seemed to be holding in her tears. I called her from the balcony, asking her if she was okay and that I’m here if she’s ever needed me. She looked at me, the feeling of relief was written all over the place. I told her that I used to live here, that this was the house I grew up in until my parents got divorced and decided that they’d sell the house. I thanked her and her partner for being nice enough for renting us a room here. She walked up to my balcony, attempting to reach me for a hug. Not long after, the man came out again. He told her to go inside and proceed to scold me, telling me that he’d been nice enough to rent us a room and asking me to not fuck things up by being too up in other people’s businesses.

I woke up right after that.

I knew exactly why I had that dream. I’ve been thinking about that house a lot, wanting to know how it looks like now. Does it still look the same as I remember it? Does the swimming pool still exist or has it changed into a whole backyard? Has anyone finally reside in that master bedroom? Does the rooms that was supposed to be my brothers’ bedroom still connected? Does a little girl finally sleep soundly in mine? Does the door near the garage and the glass windows still have sliding doors? Or have the new owners change them already?

I don’t know much about the history of that house. All I’ve ever known is that the house was built in hopes that someday my family—Mom, Dad, me and my brothers—would move out from Rawamangun and reside there. And all I’ve ever remembered about that house is the fact that, after all, it was just a pit stop for me. It’s a place where I’d just stay over at if I’m too tired or lazy to go home. It’s a place where I’d spend the rest of my days after school. Now that I think about it, the house never actually felt like home. In fact, it was nearly empty and dusty.

I was getting a bit desperate, so much so that I attempted to use Google Street View to take a look at it. But it was useless since the house is located in a secured, gated area. I still know my way there. Sometimes when I’m in the south, be it for work or just playing around, I’d sightsee just to mentally retrace my way home to Cipete. These are the places I grew up seeing. Some changes, some stays the same.

And now here I am, in my room, in Rawamangun, grieving the house I didn’t get to live in.

[shutupmidori]

rasanya waktuku tak lama

namun dalam semesta yang kita bagi bersama

waktu selalu berhenti sementara

aku ingin ini selamanya;

menembus planet saturnus ke jupiter pulang pergi,

menanti dentum dan auman dari luar lemari,

menonton domba-domba ganas berkelahi,

saling mengisi ruas jemari,

atau sekedar bercumbu demi menutup hari

ikarus menatapku penuh dengki

kakinya bersimbah darah,

kulitnya terbakar tak sudi

ia mengutuk hangat yang ku rasa

di sini

di bawah sini

tapi rasanya waktuku tak lama

waktuku tak lama

waktuku

tak lama

waktu

ku

tak

lama

waktu

tak

lama

setan-setan malam mulai tak kenal waktu

dua empat tujuh menggerayang,

berpesta di atas kepalaku

berdansa dan bersulang,

menggerogot,

melahap sisa-sisa bangkai jasadku

yang sudah ku bunuh dan mati beribu kali

lagi,

lagi,

dan lagi

di sana

di atas sana

[shutupmidori]

After all, love is vicious in its search for homme.

[shutupmidori]

I’ve been feeling a little unmotivated and uncreative lately. I recognized that my pace has been slowed down. It used to be so easy for me to be locked in and make/write songs. But these days, whenever I’m home, all I want to do is just rest. I feel like I’m falling behind.

But aside from that, I had this specific concern about myself in terms of songwriting and song making. There has never been dishonesty in every songs that I’ve ever written. All of them were written based in my own experiences. And all of them also happen to be about my own misfortunes and slightly grim contemplations in life. My life, however, has been very pleasant currently. And because of that, a question popped up in my head one day and it got me a bit worried; what if I’m only able to make songs when I’m miserable? What if I’m not actually capable of making neutral to happy songs? What if being miserable is the only drive for me to actually write songs?

But then a conversation happened between me and a friend yesterday. I realized that the reason why I haven’t been able to make happy songs is because I’m not yet used to this state of life where everything seems to be going well more than usual. For the longest time, I was stuck in a hellhole and everything in that hellhole had been the only thing I’ve ever known of.

I was stressing out about it quite a bit, especially days right before my album release. I was so scared, like…. what if this is it? What if this album is the only decent thing that’d come out from me? I talked to Rai too about this and he said that I should really use up these times to actually rest and get back whenever I feel ready. I just released an album after all, no one is rushing me to do shit or make new shit.

I’ve been taking one step at a time and this process is still too much of a foreign thing for me. I hate being an impatient bitch.

[shutupmidori]

spent the whole ride home

looking at the moon tonight

she’s so pretty, smiling at me

my eyes dwelled up with tears

but i think i’ve cried enough this week

and i’m still the same me that i despise,

one who’s filled

with contradictions and fear

but i figured,

if the moon could speak,

she’d tell me that

i’ve been through hell,

i’ve been through worse

yet i’m still here

and i’m alive

[shutupmidori]

[shutupmidori]

[shutupmidori]

i was venting to a friend about this jealous feeling that i’ve been having for a while. whenever i vent to her about it, i’d always say that what i feel is my own problem. i don’t think i have the need to tell my partner about it because what triggers it actually had nothing to do with his actions.

however, as the conversation flowed, i started telling her how i always want to shut myself down whenever i’m feeling this way and how i never liked venting like this to someone because it makes me feel like i’m projecting how i feel on to someone else. soon after that, i began to realize that the reason why i’m like that is because i’m way too used to handling things alone for far way too long.

i bawled my eyes out after i told her that. all of the sudden, our convo switched from me venting about my jealousy to… this (i don’t know how to explain it well).

my friend consoled me, saying that she’ll always be willing to listen whenever i want to vent to her, and that i have a lot of people around who love me and care for me that’d do the same.

i know that. i am very aware of that and very grateful. so very grateful of them.

but still, it made me sad.

hyperindependency sucks.

[shutupmidori]

i wish i do too.

someday

maybe

hopefully.