the colorful tale of a colorblind

i was colorblind.

i could only see black and white. sometimes both. they said it was called grey.

but that day i met you, everything turned pink. i knew it was pink because they too said that pink was affectionate, sweet, and pretty.

and oh boy was it the prettiest color i had ever seen!

they told me that the furious red got an addition of a lot of pure, innocent white. that was how the two colors mixed, creating this pretty spectrum of pale pink.

from then on, slowly but surely, i started to see more colors.

i noticed that you shone with yellow, just like the sun when i looked up at the sky. whenever you smiled, i could taste the energy of joy and happiness. i had known in an instant that yellow would be my favorite color.

thirty sunsets later, we watched the sunset like we always did. i had never really seen the color of orange before because that time, i just saw orange for the first time. it started from the tip of your fingers, and when you touched mine, it streamed all the way down. from the warmth it was giving me, i almost thought it was red. the next time i knew, we were completely blanketed in nice, comfortable, and warm orange.

when i discovered red, i discovered it not only once, but twice. both of them involved us screaming at each other. the first one, we did it with reason. the red was on your skin, and mine, your lips when it touched mine, your chest, and suddenly, the bed was covered in the passion and desire of the color red.

the second time, we screamed for no reason. and fast. really fast. you saw red in the count of seconds, heart shattering moments, and loud bang of door.

red took you away from me.

when you finally walked out of my life, i saw blue. it was never the sky or the ocean they always described how blue would be, because otherwise, it would be pretty. it was not at all. it was the cool blue. the kind of blue that sent chills and sadness down your spine.

the ugly blue.

i can see colors now, but they are dimmer than they used to be. these colors seemed a lot brighter when i was with you. i guess everything was.

with sweat and the light speed of heartbeats

with sweat

and the light speed

of heartbeats,

in the middle of

loud murmurs

and heart blistering glances,

our hands interwined.

with sweat

and a couple of

soft pink feelings,

i felt like we could do anything-

everything.

(that time you made me believe in possibilities)

ada lukisan indah surga

di sepasang bola mata

ada alunan selusin

alat musik merdu

ketika kau bisikkan kata

menyadarkanku akan cinta

betapa aku mencinta

tanpa sanggup dicinta

a.d.

three years of experiences I can never get back

When I asked myself the question, “What memories from high school you remember the most?” I would stop for a few minutes and find myself thinking, deep down inside my head. But still, in the minutes I realized I wasn’t thinking anymore, I couldn’t see the answer that clear.

I am not the kind of kid who does bad things in school. I never get yelled at by teachers (not the real yelling thing, at least), I never had my pants cut because they were too skinny, I never had my hair cut, or got caught up smoking at school. My point is, I think it’s easier for these “bad kids” to answer the question “What memories from high school you remember the most?”. They can answer with, for example, get yelled at by some particular teachers, getting their pants cut off, caught up smoking, and so on.

I remember when my brother was in high school and they always had my mom called because something my brother did at school. One day my mom was called up to his school because my brother did something. And when we did, we saw him with this new roughly cut hair of his. People like, like my brother, when they were asked the question “What memories from high school you remember the most?” in like 5 or 10 years later, these are the people who are the happiest to tell everyone about the “bad things” they did in high school. They are the ones with the most fun memories to remember.

And what I’m trying to say is that I’m not one of those kids ; I don’t have those memories.

I just finished my high school year ever 3 days ago. We flew some balloons where we had written our wishes on sticky notes and glued to them.

I will have National Exams in two days. And that marks the end of my high school years ever, three years of experiences I can never get back. It’s crazy to think that the first time I walked through that gate of high school, first time wearing my high school uniform, was 3 years ago. God, I even wore the same shoes and back pack yesterday as I did 3 years ago.

I still remembered getting those shoes and back pack from Planet Surf. I was always so excited buying school supplies, especially wearing it for the first time. Now the back pack is too poor that I only wear it when the other one is being washed. And the shoes, God, even if they are still comfortable to wear, they are pathetic.

Anyways, 3 years ago, I came to High School as this kid from Middle School, knowing no one in High School except for the people who went Middle School together, and they were like 4 people. And now I am this kid with future plans and dreams and ambitions, And of course, best friends I can count on anytime (I wish).

Well it’s not High School if there’s no drama! Well, like a usual teenager with raging hormones and mixed feelings and moods, I too had dramas. Be it dramas with myself, friends, or even school itself.

And apparently, I used to be this sensitive kid who wrote everything he felt on this blog, besides talking nonsense to everyone about Glee. Yes, there are posts about my feelings -the sad ones, happy ones, embarrassing ones, of course- on this blog! 

• A shy middle school me trying to fit in and found some friends he liked the most but never got a chance to be close with. Read it here : http://fxckdil.blogspot.com/2012/08/hanomaaaaaan.html

• A friendless, lonely, pathetic me pouring his heart about loneliness out in the first few months of high school because he thought he didn’t have any friends and well, he was just friendless, lonely, and pathetic. Read it here : http://fxckdil.blogspot.com/2012/10/should-i-write-tittle.html

• A 15 years old me struggling to find out who he really was and when he did, he was struggling with self-acceptance. And some dreams began here : http://fxckdil.blogspot.com/2012/11/for-next-one-year.html

• Tenth grade me having friends (yay for me!) : http://fxckdil.blogspot.com/2012/12/friends.html

• A dumb, frustrated with science me couldn’t wait to get into Social Class. And being the super impatient dumb kid, he wrote a countdown diary called “A Hundred Days”, basically ramblings about how shit physic was : http://fxckdil.blogspot.com/2013/05/a-thousand-days.html

Well I didn’t write on this blog that much anymore after those posts, maybe because I’m not that sensitive kid who writes everything he feels here anymore, but there are stuffs that I felt personal about that happened. The thing is, I didn’t regret any of it. In fact, I’m so glad that each one of these things happened to me.

how my tenth grade might looked like

best tenth grade buddy

And oh! One thing I almost forget to write. In High School, everyone finds a place. The popular kids befriend other popular kids. The sports befriend the sports. The smart asses befriend the smart asses. The regulars being regulars with other regulars. Even those people you call freaks, they find their place in each other. In the bottom of all, there are the misfits.

I don’t like this kind of categorizing thing because it’s just weird to fit someone into one category just by the way they talk or dress or what they like. And I don’t know where to put myself in.

But well, that happens in High School. Everyone with the same characteristics or opinions or ideas or just the way the dress gather together, making inner circle, some kind of clique. And I have to put myself somewhere I belong to, in a clique.

And here, my friends, is my clique.

left to right : Me, Tasya, Elsa, Ajeng, Sekar, Dwi

I don’t know how to classify ourselves as because we really are just 6 people with different personalities and backgrounds and places and insecurities.

Sekar in one of the populars, of course. Elsa and I are the regulars, I think. Tasya and Ajeng are the cheerleaders, which make them the sports. And I don’t know where to put Dwi, but I think he is a smart ass, if not the game freak.

Yes, we are different, we like different genres of music and movies. But one thing we have in common is our minds – six open ones that accept differences and make them something special.

It’s always sad when we talk about the future, like how in five years we are probably going to be in different places, working our asses off for our dreams. And I don’t know how to say this because what we did these two years was literally nothing but gossiped about people in our batch we didn’t like but those two years were really special to me and those gossips were awesome and our selfies were cool as fuck and I know you shouldn’t hang on to some people too much but it’s just making me sad that after this we are not going to see each other as much as we did anymore.

I know I’m being sensitive and everything but you guys should know that each one of you is special for me and I am very grateful that we met in an awful place like school. Like Dwi said, “Hari pertama nggak punya temen, hari terakhir punya sahabat.” That’s what you are to me, best mates for life. I love you guys, I guess.

me with the girls army

There are so many things happened in the last three years. Some of them were not as important as the rest that I barely remember that they actually happened, but they did. I believe that everything happened, even the unimportant parts, had made me who I am today. But who am I today? Am I the same person as that kid wearing white and grey uniform for the first time three years ago? What changed?

Answering the question, yes I am the same person as that kid wearing white and grey uniform for the first time three years ago. The only difference is that kid wearing white and grey uniform for the first time three years ago knows more things now. About himself, about life, about how there are so many paths laying in front him and he can choose whatever paths he wants. He is growing up.