Hey, it's been 4 months! I haven't writing here much, that is obvious. I don't journal too, either manually or digitally. What I did most of the time was writing short stories and poetries. At first it felt kinda out of the norm not to blog or journal at all, cause that's one way for me tracking my growth, momentos, emotions. I've been wondering the last 4 months why I didn't touch them at all, I couldn't, even after I forced myself to. Even my birthday didn't move myself to do them despite doing it every year as a celebratory self reflection. My hands wouldn't move, my head wouldn't talk, it was a total paralyze.
Now I'm sitting here trying to recall what's been going on through April and May. Those months has gone into blurry images and scarp of conversations. I remember having a packed schedule on April. There's this big project we've been preparing since December last year. Then I met someone interesting during that project, someone I wish had the same amount of interest for me. It was the peak of rainy season in this country, I spent a lot of time got caught in big pour and thought of him. How he casually told me his coffee order when I had turn to run errand. Him and hers, they love their coffee the same. What a shame. For me, at least. I wrote a lot of poetries about it, and a short story too. I guess, heart break, if you can call it that, is indeed a food for writer. It's rare to have a clear sky that month, literaly and figuratively. There's always a chunk of grey cloud hanging low, whispering weighted air and uncertainty. I couldn't do much laundry, but if I could, they smelt damp almost every single time. There's this sticky and heavy atmosphere everywhere I went. Reading Franz Kafka didn't help much.
May was a salvation. I had a long holiday which I spent at home due to the everlasting pandemic state in this country. I tried my best not to get angry about it, since I've been dreaming a road trip to the west, probably driving a lil further to Bandung and surprising an old dear friend. I tried my best not to get mad about people who cheated their way to travel during pandemic on new year holiday and in result, increasing the number of daily new cases while I've been keeping myself and my sanity in the city. I was deeply disappointed, I didn't know how to describe it. The best I could think of was a drought. That's how it felt after full year without traveling. Then the unexpected happened. I said yes to every coffee invitation from friends, people who actually reaching out to me during my sabatical leave from Instagram. And lord, salvation it was. I didn't expect to have conversations that were so enlighting. As if God told me wisdom himself, through the experience of my friends. I was sitting there listening to their stories and all I could think of was grateful, to be there with them and got inspired and motivated and answered. It gave me a new sensation of satisfaction, similar to what traveling makes me feel. The rest of the holiday was spent for spring cleaning, an annual event since I couldn't remember when. I also did a little furniture shopping which was really fun. By the end of the holiday, I'm pretty much feel calm and peaceful. I feel fine, not in the way that I tolerate most part of reality, but more in the way that I understand why things happen and decide to live with them. Plus I have a brand spanking new bookshelf which I'm super in love with.
By June, I found it steadier to stand on my ground. I mean, the last 18 months had been a handful of cascade ocean wave blues. It felt like I lost my mind, my identity, my purpose. But for once, I felt the optimism of begin again. Like, there's still a possibility of good thing happen to me in the future, if I put the effort and the time and my heart. One thing stands out amongst the other during that period. My siblings and I have grown closer emotionally, somehow finding a way to each others' company. It's not a perfect relationship, but it is a supportive one. For once we do see each other as family, not a competitor for affection, not a stranger in a boarding house. We spend a lot of time together while grilling meat and having coke. They are nursing their wound, so am I. Every friction is us trying to shape our edges so we won't hurt each other, intentionally. It becomes quite bearable to stay at home now. It's really nice and relieving.
Lately, there's been a lot of conversation happens in my head. It's out of nowhere, probably the product of a day dreaming or a movie I watch before bed. That's how most of my short stories start, out of scarp of fictional conversation upon two person. I find it enjoyable to try developing the dialogue, revealing the character of the people involve by the way they talk and respond to a question. I love putting layers, sometimes too much, on statements, illustrating the conflict and their train of thought. I love when it simple on the surface but complicated underneath, which in my opinion, are how human is. My biggest inspiration that month was this book called Song of Achilles. The way the story flows, carrying me far out to the ocean of passionate bond and promising youthfulness. And the conversation, I can imagine the distinct tone when each character speaks, adding dimention to the whole construction of storyline. Oh, how I want to be loved the way Achilles do to Patroclus. The book is easily on Pride and Prejudice level for me.
As you can see, I've been indulging myself with what life offers on daily basis. I don't really plan far ahead of time now. For now I just want to be: be present, be here, be now. I still have some blues every couple days and scary thought comes back every now and then. I feel fine, cause I understand it will keep happening throughout my life and I have the confidence to be fine with them in my life, the confidence to call my strenght and courage everytime I need them. I will never loose what originally comes from within, as long as I have faith. And if I ever stray from my path again, it will be an adventure, not a failure.
I guess it's a good thing to take my time off of blogging and journaling. That way, I can get out of my own head and go outside, talking to people, getting nervous doing things for the first time, being sad for someone else. I can forget who I am for a while, shedding the excess of emotions and opinions and judgements I drew on the painting I worked on. It's starting to feel liberating being inside my shell, even though I don't know whether to stay or venture to another form in the future. I'm not gonna think about it now. I just want to be, for now.
