iori applepie

⊹he/him ⊹indonesian/english

[whoatermelon]

as early as the self-proclaimed barista brew their morning coffee, as quick as photochromic lenses turn their shades as light kiss, as easy as pointing fingers—that's how it'd be.

was benefit of the doubt a high price to pay or did you forget to bring your mom-given wallet of yours 'cause i'm so forgiving i'll dent truth to your liking.

were my masterpieces let you deduct me this way or did you understand me to the depth of my hell to paint me your own 'cause i'll understand must it be me standing in the court.

a willingness of a little man equals to the silenced just like how my loudest is to your crescent-mooned ears.

i brought my humble autumn colors only for you to prejudiced them harsh winter and to some extend i nod 'cause i always do.

[whoatermelon]

my face lit up when i learned that we’ve birthed another similarity. but, you didn’t get to see that.

there are a thousand, or five thousands, pairs of eyes and ears waiting for you to break the silence– in which you’ve done sterlingly, to my surprise, the crowd said. unfortunately, i didn’t get to see that.

while, i’m here breaking the silence loudly, ceaselessly, to a dimmed room with no one but strings of gray lacework the eight-eyed weaved. luckily, you didn’t get to know that.

the butterflies in my inner fly havoc when you sighed the words out of my mind. yet, you didn’t get to feel that.

i lay down tethered to the idea of invisible strings, hoping for ours to lay strong and long, pushes its way through worldy throng. assumingly, you didn’t get to wish for that.

however a rare case maybe is where our tales belong. where you get to see, know, feel, and wish for that, reciprocating every inch of my longing. a tale of victorious hopelessness. maybe we get to write that.

[whoatermelon]

i used to be the kid, the youngest, seated on the corner of that worn out walls, hands reached for the others and cookies, said my short dictated greetings, heard the grownups hubbubs, answered the repeated and slightly judging questions which i always feel that they end with a period instead of a question mark.

fast forward, i am one of the grownups with hubbubs, acquired my own voices and decisions to either drop the genuine questions or imitate their judging undertones. i am part of the conversation. i am on par with the others. i hold my own knife. i choose who to stab and who to give the knife to. or, if i’d drop the knife instead.

my hands still reach out for cookies. and my mouth still say the greetings but one that i dictate myself.

at least, i have my own knife now.

[whoatermelon]

from one full moon to another i saw your eyes gleaming with relief and bliss. yet, i know that you’re anxious. but, i am glad you could feel those feelings. i am glad that you could be present for that. every time a drizzle of your presence orbits in mine, i can’t help but to feel the urge to frame that picture perfect smile of yours— calling every painter exists to ask if they’re open for commissions.

yet, here i am, saying all those things as if we know each other’s existence— my existence.

yet, here i am, longing.

[whoatermelon]

How do i cease to exist as a loud, talkative, attention seeker person?

for the past few weeks, i have been feeling the need to be gone, gone girl style— nah, kidding. i just want to cease to exist for a period. a month or two, or a year even, i mean it’s possible. my friend did that. but i’m struggling to even hide my presence for a day (a week the longest) let alone a month. also, i’m very talkative on socials, like, i can post ten to twenty tweets of me ranting or just letting my thoughts pour if i don’t restrain myself (i mean, why should i restrain myself from posting in my own socials and spaces that i created with my email address that uses my personal private data to register in the first place).

anyway, yeah for the sake of pride and image i oftentimes restrain myself from posting too much, i haven’t really find the roots to what causing this but i guess it’s just part of my people pleaser personality. so, to get around this problem i am enforcing a personal regulation for myself that i hope my body can accept it to unconscious level. i will start to only post my rants in my 3rd accounts.

in social media numbering, i define 1st account as the main account where public & acquaintances can see me, 2nd account is where my close friends can see my semi-real me, and 3rd account is where i’m untouchable by people i know in real life.

hence, people in real life won’t even know that i’m still being loud in socials. what a great idea, bravo!

yet, i always find the urge to log back in to my 1st & 2nd to post, like it’s not enough to just post my thoughts in my 3rd, i need people that i know in real life read and see it (see? it’s my people-pleaser-attention-seeker personality speaking).

on the other hand, i was thinking about why do i want to hold my social presence so much, is it because i want people to look for me? (yes) is it because i want to be perceive as an enigma? (oh yea) is it because i want people to miss me and really thought of me that they would put in the effort to scroll their contacts and click on my name to just personally text me? (i- yes)

but amongst all of that, there’s also part of me that is ashamed of myself. ashamed of what i said and posted. ashamed of what people will thought of me if they keep seeing me online.

i want to have a clean slate of thought. i want all of that assumptions and speculations i have in my head to be gone, erased, and dissipated. and i think that social media has a big part on building that kind of mindset in me, it has been the main trigger as far as i concerned. so, i want to end that cycle of thoughts by lessening my socials presence. i want to not be triggered by it. i want it away from me.

i just hope this tumblr post does age well. fingers crossed bby✨

[whoatermelon]

i start to think that no one ever match the energy i put out to them, thus i shouldn’t try to either.

i’ve always been so keen to share whatever information i possess, to be informative, to be giving, and merely to share the state of knowing. i’ve always thought of others whenever i got new informations.

“they should know.”

with a simple tap on the mostly arrow-shaped forward/sharing button, i can easily share it to others and have them reach the same level of knowingness with me.

in return, i wish they’d do the same to me. i wish people would want me to be in the same level of knowingness with them. i want them to think of me whenever they feel an information is relevant to me. i do have few friends who did this. but i don’t feel it is equal to the number of others that i shared my information with.

that’s when i realized that i can’t expect people to give me the same energy that i give them. i can wish, but i can’t set out rules and make it their obligations to do so.

i think maybe it’s a sign for me to preserve my energy and be more selective towards whom i might share it with.

i know it seems silly comparing information-sharing to energy-giving. but, that’s how i perceive sincerity and togetherness. at least that’s how i understand it as of now.

well, i think i’ll be faced with more cases & moments of enlightenment like this in the future. for the sake of adulting & learning myself. bit by bit.

[whoatermelon]

a few days ago, i was about to post an instagram feed after so long. the last time i posted was on july 2021. i had this urge to post because i was kinda inspired by the random pictures in my camera roll, with a dash of dazzcam magic.

then, i went through a brainstorm for the caption. it was hell of a brainstorm. i usually write funny, sassy, and punchy captions because that's what i thought people perceive me. i imprinted that personality to my social media presence. i thought that was me being true to myself.

but then i realized, why should i stay with the personalities that people see in me. why am i trying so hard to meet the nonexistent external standard, when i should set the standard myself. why am i being defined by what people see in me?

i am undefinable, i am complex, and sometimes i outgrew the personality in me. i should never limit myself to a certain picture in closed frame, crafted by other people. no one should ever.

i was so set to quote taylor swift's lyrics as my caption. i always wanted to. then i listened to a bunch of her songs on my playlist. i feel like i had to quote one of her non-mainstream songs, so people might think that i listened to taylor swift religiously. so i can be unique, charming. again with the people's perceptions.

then, i encountered a line from my favorite song of hers, champagne problems, which is one of her mainstream songs from evermore.

"One for the money, two for the show"

my all-time favorite line from champagne problems, yet this time it meant something for me personally. i looked it up. where the fuck does that line originate. turns out, it was a children's rhyme that goes:

one for the money,

two for the show,

three to get ready,

four to go.

basically, it is a more poetic yet mouthful version of "ready, set, go". But for me, it meant something else.

one for the money. ever since 2019, i've been running my ass off to find standing, financially. i'm chasing financial stability as i'm stepping into adulthood. most of the moments happened since then, most of the fights, most of the cries, were all for the money.

one for the show. other than financial stability, i was (and still is) trying too hard to show an oh-so-perfect image on my socials. i want people to see that i'm having fun even in the hardest time. i want them to wonder, to ask, and to be charmed. i was trying too hard to frame my life as if i'm making a script of a comedy tv show for people i don't even talk to. i think it's pathetic, to live merely for show.

alas, that's how i decided to use that line for the caption as the photos slide. it was a result of pathetic retrospective of my life.

[whoatermelon]

I Think I Dropped My Own Hand

I dropped my own hand.

Sitting there in my working chair, which now has turned into a little world where I feel feelings so big.

Looked back to every decision I made, which has now carved a path, a cracked one in my vision.

Long, illuminated with lights so dimmed I can barely see my shadow, with endless crossroads ahead.

Tears fell down as I realized I dropped my own hand.

The hand which belongs to the only person who knows me, who hugged me tightly in every storm to keep me warm and my blood flowing, barely.

The hand which belongs to the home of my mind with hundreds of paragraphs written every day, home to the beating heart which beats rapidly so often, unintentionally intentional.

There’s a serving of cold rice with sweet and sour fried shrimps, a favorite.

But, not for tonight.

The list of my favorite food is turning to a plain white paper as if there was a new beginning to start, yet I can feel it that it was pointing towards the end.

My favorite food list is fading, and so are my other favorite things.

Is this what it feels like to grow up? Do you start to lose things? Then why bother making lists of my favorite things in the first place if I knew that they wouldn’t be any more at some point.

Right, I dropped my own hand.

The hand that wrote lists of my favorite things just to be sure that I had something that I called my own. I dropped it.

The hand that clasps tightly with the other one to express hope. Only these days, the clasps are more of a begging, closer to the heart like never before.

I dropped it because I couldn’t stand the kinship it gives, so warm, yet it pierced through my skin while I was there, birthing disappointment in every chance I had.

It’s okay, I guess. I won’t miss me. The saturation of the world is shifting bluer — and I’m swallowed in it.

One day, I’ll hold that hand back.

Not now, not tomorrow.

One day.

I guess I’ll eat the shrimps anyway, but it’s sweet and sour no more as my human senses became four.

(i wrote this on my medium on Nov 21st, 2021 and i thought it was too personal to be published there, so i moved it here)

[whoatermelon]

I'm so tired of wanting. Every day I woke up I always crave for something, to simply live. I live from one obsession to another. Life has no crisp without obsessing over something.

I hate that somehow I believe that I was designed like this. I just want to simply live and have enough, not wanting- obsessing over something that I obviously cannot achieve.

Part of me believe that having to want something so ideal will push me to be and do better, in order to achieve it. But, part of me also believe that none of those things will happen.

I build an utopia in my head along with the details. Sometimes I even had fun doing it and even looking forward to do it when I'm in the shower or just lying down on a sofa.

The idea of creating something so neat and well-set is just so satisfying to me. Sometimes I even wonder whether I'll be able to live the life I dreamt of one day or not. Some days I believe it will happen, some days I believe I was just being delusional.

I honestly have no idea what to believe. It's a constant debate within me and now I'm having a headache.

[whoatermelon]

I thought i can’t never be lonelier than before, i was wrong. These days, i feel like friendships are starting to fade and interactions are getting obviously transactional— i mean, i know friendships basically transactional, you gotta give the same energy the way your friends gave you when you need them or else you’re an asshole. But, it’s getting obvious now that i feel like we can’t even sugarcoat it anymore. There are no layers of sweetness can hinder the fact that it is a transaction.

I feel like i’m losing my surroundings, the things that shaped me and had become pillars of support my whole life. But i guess this has to happen, because what other moments that will let me be with no one else but myself to find what i really am and what i really want?

I never expect it to be this difficult. I was always known as the independent, the lone wolf, the idgaf kind of person. It kinda grow on me, resulting in me trying to live up those traits people blindly expected me to be. I think it affects how i friend people. I feel like i mustn’t tied to a specific circle of friends because that will taint my designated reputation.

Truth is, i’m used to being held and led in whatever phase of my life. I’m used to have groups of people supporting me as if i was designed to be like that. Now, i feel like i have to let the grips loose and walk on my own.

Is this part of adulting? Do people go through something like this too? Because i really need them to teach me how the fuck to.

[whoatermelon]

it’s almost like every time i gasped for air i inhaled fire sparks.

[whoatermelon]

O Allah, I will always ALWAYS believed in your plan.

The waves You roll, the wind You blow, the stars You set aligned— everything is happening for a reason.

I am one part of the ‘happening’. I am part of the ‘current’. I am part of everything that’s going towards a reason.

And I believe, You have saved the best reason human can’t think of for me.

[whoatermelon]

everyday i woke up feeling smaller than yesterday. as the day progressed, i got smaller. my heart was scared that it won’t be small enough to be contained in my continuously-getting-smaller vessel.

[whoatermelon]

Sepertinya menit bergeser menjadi detik. Cepat benar mereka mendorong matahari dari timur ke barat. Mungkin jaman sudah di ujung lembarannya? Begitu pembenaran di kepala yang sesungguhnya tidak ada benar-benarnya juga. Batin tau jawabannya: sia-sia waktu-ku dihabiskan cuma untuk berperan sebagai korban pikiran yang berlebihan.

[whoatermelon]

begini,

pikiranku sudah tidak putih. isi hati sudah tidak jernih. beragam doa mungkin nihil baginya. raut lelah seperti tidak nyata, terlihat sumringah di hari-harinya. aku dituntut percaya ‘bisa’ adalah pilihan. dipilih untuk terus berjalan. di saat yang bersamaan, berjalan kemana pun aku heran.

berbusa mulut ini menyampaikan isi hati ke telinga-telinga yang belum tentu mengenal bunyi. kasihan sang teman sudah diteteskan hingga habis.

‘dijalani’ mantranya.

yang di depan mata.

tapi enggan rasanya untuk berjalan kalau tahu kaki selalu tersantuk. berkeliling dengan gusar yang perlu meledak. mustahil untuk tidak bertanya ‘berapa lama?’.

sepertinya sudah mengering semangatku. warnanya sudah tidak hijau daun. terlihat kecoklatan sepia putus asa. namun tidak. terang harus selalu terang. itu peranku. semoga ada hari dimana aku bebas menyatakan secara resmi, dengan bahasa yang dimengerti, bahwa aku sudah bukan yang itu lagi.

[whoatermelon]

God if you’re willing to be nice, destined me to the best three:

The ones who’ll plant infinite gratitude to my veins.

The ones who’ll build me resonance of little blisses.

The ones who’ll untie the threads in my head.

[whoatermelon]

I’m sad and liberated at the same time, blessed and unfulfilled, nervous but relinquished, in despair but hopeful, reclusive yet loved, victorious and lost.

I guess my spirits are somewhat phantom.