the fact that i can't blog is a cue. the worst of pain screams silence. 

hmm.. why am i blogging this? maybe i want you to care. or caress. you should stop your mind fuck and start giving a fuck. because the next step, is not towards you. my one more step.. is walking away.

"That's our April. She's sensitive, but she's still the cruelest." ~ october in the chair.

i have a disease called loneliness. you are my painkiller.

Yesterday says 'coulda woulda shoulda'. But today says 'I know better. I am capable of better.'

When you are being who you are, you are home.

It's when you let me fall asleep on your shoulder and you tried hard not to move.

I feel chunks of my heart are scattered here and there. And it's fine cause I'm no davy jones.

Because you, are a handmade work of art. The rest are fabricated junks.

Why people come to a single person for relationship advice is beyond me.

I have to trust my gynecologist and my dentist since I let them work with my holes. But I guess I trust you more since I let you in both.

"Men don't differ much about what things they'll call evils; they differ enormously about what evils they'll call excusable."

Does it hurt? | Yeah. | Where does it hurt? | Everywhere. | Maybe it hurts for a reason.

You know that part where you start being deep? Yeah. It's called aging.

you know what scares? it's the part where you care.

"i wish i could go back. I'd do things differently." don't we all.

"i'm flawed. i'm a wreck, but you.. it wasn't a game."

torn between missing loved one and wanting space.

when i have to work on holiday, i grumble with all my heart.

but nothing beats the liberty of simply being who you are, without pretension, without fear of being judged, without apologies.

gimme my bunny. preferably the one that could vibrate.

she sits in the corner, without companion. her faint smile's saying "exhaustion."

You hump, I'm humped.

"There are things i need to figure out. For her sake, at least. She won't always love me 'no matter what'."

oh you wanna know what's different between you two? to you, it's "fuck you." to him, it"s "fuck me."

Do you want to talk about it? | No. I just want to know when it stops hurting. | If you're lucky, never.

It bugs me that people have deadline to breed their mindfucking stupidity.

I measure my comfort in your companion by how big a hole I feel in my stomach when we part. Have you seen it? It's a bottomless abyss.

too many books to read. too many movies to watch. too many hours spent daydreaming.

Show up as a hero, and ye shall look handsome, my child.

After a long day at work, all the dancing and jabbing only seem tiring. And it matters as much as bull crap.

Sometimes it's nice, not having to talk. We drown in the comfort of silence. Once a while, that warm glance.

I fully support KB. 1) Don't breed stupidity. 2) It's a sign that women are actually getting laid.

Vow is an attempt on freezing liquid.

Stay neurotic, homo sapiens with vagina. That way I could pretend I'm the rare sane one!

"Satisfaction is the death of desire."

Given time long enough, and you shall miss everything. For example, your youth.

Wanna waste some time? Talk senses into some neurotics.

There's this guy who gives all kind of damn and shit. But he doesn't have a fuck to give. One can't be perfect.

Mindfucking is thy platonic love.

No man beats the man who buys you tampon.

Bang is such an important word, in all its various meanings.

The more you take it the less you are satisfied. Very true except for booze.

Okay so I'm the fake one, but beat that you piece of original shit. ~a vibrator talking to a penis.

you know when you say a word too much and then it loses it's meaning? that's what happened to your apologies.

"We need to talk." A) she's pregnant. B) she has std. C) she's breaking up with you. D) she's in love with you. --Either way you're screwed.

Without you I'd be lost at missing. Drowning aimlessly, without gravity.

Everything is fine, until you give everything a question mark. ?.

Youth is the freedom of eating nasi campur, drinking beer, then having durian as the dessert.

"She said one thing. I said another. Next thing I know I wanna spend the rest of my life in the middle of that conversation."

You're beautiful like sunset. And painful like it too. As if hope is fading.. And stepping its feet into the dark.

no matter how long the road is, it's always nice knowing that you are heading home.

the ever-lurking presence of the grim fucking reaper.

let's play pretend. like pretending you are here, holding me until i fall asleep.

how come an ever changing substance like human can feel a constant missing of another?

every person should come with this label just for a reminder: take it or leave it.

how to lose a guy in 10 days: on the 10th day, ask him: "sebenernya kita tuh gimana sih?"

I remember that kiss. Vividly. Then vaguely. It's the kind of kiss that swipes me off my feet. But what's a kiss in the past? Only a memory.

"He could put off dreaming, but he couldn't escape remembering."

Home feels like a long way to go.

It's sad that we don't get laid as much as we tweet.

"You're the one I remember when I'm drunk. But when I'm completely sober, I just want to forget."

It's different. Knowing it and seeing it. Knowing is a soft nudge. Seeing is one good bitchslap. Then you are awake.

i think people build a family not just because it is customary, or that people are lonely and sometimes mere idiots..

but sometimes it's not enough to keep going just for yourself. (well if you think it is, maybe it's just the amount of my self loathing.)

just like you need it to heal, you need it to hurt too, and to let it hurt. give it time to hurt.

"I'm not perfect but you should've waited. I was worth it."

Nobody knows your pain better than you yourself. Except that one pint. Befriend it.

Sometimes finding yourself losing words is all good :)

so many things i wanna fix but i can't. so i move on and do more damages.

we began things, hopeful. manufactured to believe, humans are. then they grow up naively with a big bundle of idealism. time takes pieces of that, sometimes big chunks. time leaves us dark, skeptic, some glued pieces trying to hold things together while falling apart. 

everybody has issues. some toughen up and some shove them down to other people's throats. most often than not, we search company in misery, forget another in times of joy. all the gloom scraps beliefs thin. layer by layer. and sometimes when what's left to believe is you and yourself only, it betrays you still. 

the delicate matter of trust. the thing is.. once you not believe, then you can't go back to the start. you keep believing in lesser amount, then one day you know that everything is liquid, and you yourself change, so what's in trusting? everybody's a liar. 

there's this one day i thought that i'd just keep going for me. because i thought.. oh in the end what i have is just me. but then it's not enough. 

maybe people breed not just because they are incurably foolish and lonely. i began to think that maybe.. because it's not enough to keep going for yourself. to have something you cherish. someone. or even better a family. to take care of it. where it doesn't matter anymore, reciprocality. that it doesn't matter if the other party loves and cares about you as much. because they simply matters to you. 

maybe there's hope for humanity afterall. 

but problem is.. am i that lucky?

too easy I give a damn. and I care too much. i am stubborn and hard as diamond, but if i have a soft spot for one.. it gets right under my skin. and most often than not, then i compromise all the time, forgetting when to say no. forgetting to say enough. 

Twitter is a giant pensieve of residual thoughts. it feels like everybody wants to be somebody there. it's all about shaping how one should look and bringing out the best of one. fucking pretentious. and yes, i am a part of it. it's sad that one willing to go down the rabbit hole and be a hypocrite because one simply doesn't want to be lonely. 

i kept thinking, this personal space of mine, am i gonna let it to be just another page of twitter? i don't even know who fucking reads this shit. okay so this is my ugly truth. i am a lonely person, looking for friends. i am fully aware that i dont mean shit to the world and that my own view is just so narrow that i need to know people's thoughts. just for the sake of seeing the box from many sides.

it's funny how i gave up sanity just for the sake of not being lonely. 

on the other hand, if i be lonely much too long. i'm afraid sanity would sail away too. 

i said i'm looking for friends. maybe i'm looking for love too. not because i want it, but because i need it. because sometimes, it's not enough, to take care of yourself. to keep going just for yourself. because really, i don't think the amount of self loathing that i carry with me like a shadow would actually let me go on just for me. i can be egocentric and selfish a lot sometimes. maybe a lot of times. but really i just need to give a damn about something. i need to care. i need to be needed. because sometimes, and i think i am feeling this more often nowadays, waking up in the morning and just having yourself to go on is not enough.

i am fucking aware that this dire desperation is getting on me that i may fall for my own ideas. at times, it's hard to differ what reality has to offer with the ideal figure i have in mind. my mind is playing some serious mind tricks, reality on the edge seems to be in my favor. that, until it blows me with a dose of cold, harsh truth. 

of all things i don't have in life and i will never have, i see what fictions have about them and how they bring those to me. and it seems like it's a cool moment where it feels like words stab me and leave a big gaping hole, but really i have almost zero emphaty for a lot of things. 

for example, this is a letter Hank wrote for his daughter when he felt like a failure and tried to commit suicide:

to my dear beautiful daughter,

I'm writing you a letter. That's right, a good old-fashioned letter. It's a lost art, really. Like handjobs. Shit.

I have a confession to make. I didn't like you very much at first. You were just this annoying, little blob. You smelled nice. Most of the time. But you didn't seem to have much interest in me. Which I, of course, found vaguely insulting. It was just you and your mom against the world. Funny how some things never change. So I cruised along, doing my thing, acting the fool, not really understanding how being a parent changes you. And I don't remember the exact moment everything changed. I just know that it did. One minute I was impenetrable. Nothing could touch me. The next, my heart was somehow beating outside my chest, exposed to the elements. Loving you has been the most profound, intense, painful experience of my life. In fact, it's been almost too much to bear. As your father, I made a silent vow to protect you from the world, never realizing I was the one who would end up hurting you the most. When I flash forward, my heart breaks. Mostly because I can't imagine you speaking of me with any sort of pride. How could you? Your father is a child in a man's body. He cares for nothing and everything at the same time. Noble in thought, weak in action. Something has to change. Something has to give. It's getting dark. Too dark to see..

it's beautiful really. but then.. what's next? i guess i was just looking for something to bring me down even more in this bottomless pit. because maybe, when i hit rock bottom, i can only crawl back to the top. and maybe i won't feel shitty as much.

next thing. I know this might be hormonal. And it sounds medieval but i would really love if it is. That is just more bearable rather than having my mind giving itself mindtricks just to trick it out of boredom. 

from what i heard, happiness leads to contentment, contentment leads to boredom. and boredom kills. 

and yes, i still want living. a less lonely life, if possible.

"So you like to simplify things, huh?"

"So they said."

"Why?"

"Why complicate things if you can simplify them?"

"Why simplify complicated things when they really aren't that simple?"

"I'm not saying I underestimate things, I just search the main key and simplify whatever it is."

"In life, nothing is ever simple."

"True."

"You just contradicted yourself."

"Not really."

"You did. Tell me something, what is love? Because love is just a word, because people can't exactly summarize what it represents; the feeling. I'd like to know your thoughts."

"Fair enough, fair answer, but I'd like to tell you a story first. I have this friend. A friend whom I consider a dearest friend of mine. She loves Alice in Wonderland, you see, has the same name even. Like Alice, her curiosity can kill a lion. One day, I saw her strolling on the street. Looking for something, she said. Funny thing though, I could see what she's looking for, it was right in front of her. But she refuses to look at it, said it couldn't be that obvious. I should add she loves puzzle, because life is a puzzle; a mystery, she loves it. I kept her company, looking for her missing part. Listened to what she has to say. Gave her my jacket cause she needs it, anything. Day and night, we searched. She still hasn't seen it and as long as she needs it, I pretend to not see the obvious thing either. Not until she sees it, finds it. I hope she sees it soon enough."

"...was that a metaphor?"

"Too long for a metaphor, don't you think?"

"Is that your final answer?"

"As long as Alice in my story needs me to pretend she hasn't seen it yet, I'll play along. Whatever she needs."

"Okay."

"Okay."

~taken from: forgotten supernova.

my train of thoughts. how you betray me. you have taken me to series of awkwardness i don't even want to recall. things i don't want to ponder. then you got me lost. and once again i don't know how did i get here.

then i drink to forget.

isn't it every person's dream? to fuck around and be badass. because adrenaline is the high that makes as all addicts. fun and games. people just want to play and win. play some more. then they go back home where the loved ones are waiting with arms open. in the perfect world. 

but really we just fuck around. and fuck around some more. then left with a pint of regret. but hey it was a load of fun too. so steps are repeated. until we lost our way home.

i wish i could go back to where mind and fucking don't stand in the same verse. the world would have been prettier, if i don't have to think. it's all fun and games. then it came: so what's next?

next thing you know you are trapped in an infinite loop. diving in a bottomless pit called lust. because there is no such thing as boring as staying.

i let what's that little part of me crying home out. then i tell it to harden the fuck up. because hey, we aren't that lucky. it's been shitty. and there's no reason hoping that luck will turn soon. or ever, for that matter.

they say, satisfaction is the death of desire. but without hope, we live on in desire. endless fucking train of thoughts, catching wind on its tail.

Dear Karen..

If you're reading this, it means I actually worked up the courage to mail it. So, good for me. You don't know me very well but you get me started. I have the tendency to go on and on about how hard the writing is for me. But this... This is the hardest thing I have ever had to write. There's no easy way to say this, so I'll just say it.

I met someone. It was an accident. I wasn't looking for it. I wasn't on the make. It was the perfect storm. She said one thing. I said another. Next thing I knew, I want to spend the rest of my life in the middle of that conversation. Now there's this feeling in my gut. She might be the one. She's completely nuts.. in a way that makes me smile -- highly neurotic. A great deal of maintenance required. She is you, Karen. That's the good news.

The bad is that I don't know how to be with you right now. And it scares the shit out of me. Because if I'm not with you right now, I have this feeling we'll get lost out there. It's a big, bad world full of twists and turns, and people have way of blinking and missing the moment.. the moment that could have change everything. 

I don't know what's going on with us, and I can't tell you why you should waste a leap of faith on the likes of me.. but damn, you smell good -- like home.

And you make excellent coffee. That's gotta count for something, right?

Call me.

Unfaithfully yours, Hank Moody.

Remember my lame birthday post? i owe that to my friends. apparently i still have enough luck for the rest of the week. drowned in booze with friends. that was good. i vividly remember laughters. maybe there were a lot of funny things, maybe it's just alcohol. nonetheless, it was a good night. oh and i shall remember that mouthgasmic dessert we had on the late lunch. now that, was something. 

the next day i had a lil housewarming that started with a late lunch at kfc. as we digged in through buckets of chicken, oh the talks. we used to talk about.. i dont recall anymore what we used to talk of. it's been 11 years. but now my friends talk about breast feeding and how they are gonna give birth. time flies with no mercy. 4 of my closest high school friends are married. two are gonna join them soon. one has a lil baby. two are expecting babies. 

where am i? sitting in the corner with another gal, and one of my friend's husband, talking about penises. and everything there around the crotch. 

time goes away. blink and you are left behind. maybe on my next birthweek i won't be this much lucky. maybe my friends are gonna be busy with their weddings and their kiddos. me? i dont think i have such a luck. but hey. they say.. never lose hope.

but to this view i end this weekend. and it was pretty damn good.

In all seriousness, your blog for Hell-A Magazine is prompting a lot of underground water-cooler talk. It's great.

Thank you, but it's really.. it's more like pissing out of my ass than anything else. You know, it's just.. things bother me, and I vent, I write it down.

 

What's your latest obsession?

Just the fact that people seem to be getting dumber and dumber. I mean, we have all this amazing technology, and yet.. computers have turned into basically four-figure wank machines.

The internet was supposed to set us free, democratize us, but.. but all it's really given us is Howard Dean's aborted candidacy and 24-hour day access to kiddy porn.

People.. They don't write anymore. They blog.

Instead of talking, they text.. No punctuation, no grammar, L.O.L. this and L.M.F.A.O. that.

It just seems to me that it's just a bunch of stupid people pseudo-communicating with a bunch of other stupid people in a protolanguage that resembles more what cavemen used to speak than the king's English.

 

Yet you're part of the problem. I mean you're out there blogging with the best of them.

Hence my self-loathing, you know.

Good morning, Hell-A.

In the land of the lotus-eaters, time plays tricks on you. One day you're dreaming. The next, your dream has become your reality.

It was the best of times. If only someone had told me.

Mistakes were made, hearts were broken, harsh lessons learned. My family goes on without me, while I drown in a sea of pointless pussy.

I don't know how I got here.

But here I am, rotting away in the warm California sun.

There are things I need to figure out, for her sake, at least. The clock is ticking. The gap is widening. She won't always love me "no matter what."