When others are move out in order to work, my case is the opposite: I work in order to move out.
A drastic life comes by a single call, then I packed all my belongings and aimlessly wandered. Not a totally aimeless, though, but still…
It still fresh in my mind: those confusion and anxiety. I’ve always convinced myself that I born with this steel armor attached all over my body, like a legend warrior. So that I could even walk in fire if I want.
But that time was different. A drastic changes completely decayed my armor, left me naked and vulnerable.
And I slowly gathered up everything. Gathered those armor that I’ve always been took pride of, and glued them back with a sort of adaptability and strength that I’ve also took pride of.
Power, a complete and almighty one, maybe my main purpose. The feel of being able to take control of your own life is unbeatable, it reflect a pure strength. And that’s maybe the thing I’ve been looking for.
But sadly, if I thinking about it, from another side of the perspective, gaining power is not my mere motive. I moved out myself in order to runaway. Which, ironically, contradict the whole thing.
I’ve told ya’ I’m merely a humbag contains thousands opposite traits and thoughts, I’ve told ya’.
But, hey, aren’t we all a bunch of pilgrims who runaway from a particular things in life? Am I have to beg forgiveness? It’s not a sin, isn’t?
I don’t know.
Runaway is for a coward. Stay and fight is the only way for those valiant hearts. Maybe I’m not as brave and daring as I always think I am.
Are we lose?
Are we lost?
Or are we just understand our limits too well?
Right after the farewell was bid, the door of another hardness is opened.
Welcome to the wonderland, babe. We’re not mad here. We’re just…insanely struggling. To breath, to life, to eat, to love, to do everything.
The 22-year-old me is an introvert, an acute one. A random MBTI tests all over internet said either she is 84% or 96% introvert. If it’s true then it’s not a shocking fact as she suffered a lot from her social anxiety. She was even hide in the restroom just to catch a breath at least twice a day during her the first three months of work life.
The 22-year-old me would be a national champion of overthinking competition, if it’s any. She is a B-type which people would called a happy-go-lucky type. So basically her nature is a mix-up. An overthinker B-type, she would declare. It’s quite not easy to live in kind of state of mind which contains thousands of opposite traits and behaviours. She has to dealing with voices in her head that arguing each another everytime. That’s why practical thinking is not her style, hence it doubles up the hardness of life for her. Poor soul.
The 22-year-old me still avoiding phone calls, messages, people; glitching from responsibilities; and escaping from real life. The 15-year-old her was ever composed a song titled “Escapist”, it tells about a person who doesn’t belong anywhere and can’t handle real life, and she still think that song compatible for her personal self even until now.
The 22-year-old me was longing for a perfect romance life, everyday, everytime, tho she never verbally admit it. Being in touch with the other one whom she considered as ‘boy’ or ‘guy’ makes her awkward hence this traits often translated as a ‘cold-and-cool-and-not-interested’ trait by the person she deeply longing. What an irony.
The 22 year-old me was ever felt so depressed that she nearly got her hands to alcohol can in the groceries and even keep eyes on which cigarettes to smoke. She never drink neither smoke before as it’s encounter her principles of life. But that depression almost eat her up to bones. Luckily, she then considered yoghurt and glico pocky tastes better than alcohol and cigarettes, so, well, attempt of rebellion: failed.
The 22-year-old me still speak to her imaginary friends. Yes, she has. And not only one but SIX instead. One of them is a wolf named Pandemonium and one other is Sora from Kingdom Hearts game. People might said that she is a schizoid because she talks to herself a lot as if she actually talks to a ‘friends’. And she refused to called them ‘imaginary friends’. “They are my guardian angels”, instead she replied.
Birthday is not her thing since 5 years ago. She loves a quiet and lonely birthday where everybody forget about it and behave like usual to her. She hates surprise or party or other kind of celebration because spotlight freaking her out and make her anxious.
And this birthday, too. Except she finally leaked it out by revealing her big wish on her instagram account, which her friends apparently recognized and makes it not a ‘quiet-birthday’ anymore. But this time, no problemo.
The 22-year-old me now have become a 23-year-old me today. As the 23-year-old approaching, she anxious a LOT. She hasn’t obtain a big and meaningful thing that she thought every 23’s people has to. “I will be 23 yet I’m still an useless potato, what should I do?!”, she mumbled panickly everyday since April began. But when the day come, peculiarly everything happens just like that. It’s not painful at all. Being 23-year-old feels strangely not different as being 22-year-old.
Being 23-year-old doesn’t mean that she have to evolved to become an extroverted, and stable, and rich, and wise either. I think, she will just stay this way. People change and her, too, will unnoticedly changes. It doesn’t matter the age. Age is just a number. But the process to be a mature person can’t be started or paused right away as if you’re installing a phone app. It happens as the time goes, slowly.
Happy Birthday to her.
She has a lot and numerous cool dreams to give up now so, 23, please be nice to her.
Just everytime. I gets too emotional. Flood of Emotions.
A mental breakdown. Huge disappointment. Tired. Fear. Excite. Anger. Laugh. Perplexed.
Coward. Swirling. Comes gliding across the sky. Swim in the terrace. Knocking in. Bash the door.
Somehow a revelation. Awakening. Bright. Like a sun. Dancing. Shining. Shimmering.
The hope. The dreams. A good visualization in the head and mind. Flowing through the veins. Bringing all the life. Soul gets pumped. Energized.
I can’t really describe, nor giving example and illustration. It just…. something. Not losing nor gaining. Or maybe both losing and gaining.
I’m not talk in rhymes, not even trying. I just can’t figured out the order of the words. It’s messy right here. Everything is mixed. The colors blend into one. I’m blackout. Either full or blank. Or in between. Or none of those.
I listen to some songs. Not to facilitating the emotional conditions. Just needed some melodical tones. To make the colors less dark, to saturating. Merely as backsound. Eventho an unrelated backsound. The score director must be a worst one. I am the worst one.
Thus we catch the breath. Living in vacumm space. We scream, we light up. It’s undesirable, this kind of roaller coaster. All I can feel is just a banging head. Beating motion.
I’m in the middle of vertigo. Your eyes moves diagonally. Your voice draw a circular shape in the air. Try to catch it up, the hands grasp in between of tremors. I can’t, I said to you.
And I cry.
And I cry.
And I cry.
And the sea formed, hence we sail upon it.
Row, row, row.
Row, row, row.
Image credits to Jenny at Flickr.com
“Apparently, our biggest enemy is not ourselves in general, like everybody says.
Instead, our biggest enemy is our insecurities in particular”.
“I swear if Father was a Bandung Technology Institute alumnus, he might not living here in Indonesia anymore,” Mother said that evening while munching her dinner, “he would be in Germany by now, working for a big automotive company; or in Japan, be a part of world’s breakthough robotic projects; and would personally acquainted with Archandra Thahar as a felow alumnus, or might even be a friend of him as well!”
What she said is out of the current topic, actually, but then I saw my Father’s expression and immediately knew that his heart noted it.
My Father is a godfather for everything and anything mechanical, automotive, machinery, and engines, hence we are–Mother, me, my siblings, our big families and relatives–are all the same absolute mind with this.
He once said to me (when once I helped him repair TV just because I want to photograph the cute green PCB board) that ‘Machines, whatever they are and however they seems, are basically the same. They have a similar system and working methods. Once we understand how the fundamental system goes, we practically understand every each of them.”
It’s funny that I learnt electronics for three years in high school plus took electrochemical subject in my college, AND it results nothing, hence his words seemed invalid for me at the moment. I just practically think he mastered it not because the fundamental systems or blablabla, he mastered it because he born with that ability.
“Yea, agree! I mean, Father is not an alumni of any pretigious institutes but nothing he can’t do regarding any machines and electricities this far.” I approved Mother’s initial convo.
“Well, unfortunately I didn’t have such a privilege,” Father replied, giggled a little. “It would be great though, if once I had.” He finally agreed himself.
“If you once had it, nothing can beat you though!” Mother assured him. “Many of the so-called experts have a better life because they graduated from prestigious schools but you can even have similar skills like them. Think if you graduated from a similar institutes, compared to you, they would be NOTHING.”
Agree. I once watched a TV commercial that debating ‘talent vs hardwork’. It said that nothing called talent in this life. Everyone can do what they want and be an expert of anything if they worked so hard for it. Me, in the other side, absolutely disagree. I think talent is real. It’s a personallized gift that privileged by God to His creatures. If you don’t have the talent, you can work hard on something you want, but you’ll never exceed them who has talent plus work as hard as you, I believe.
“You know what,” Father said to me as a reply for Mother’s convincing statement, “even by now, I still regreting why I never took a higher school. I was born in a insufficient family and what’s on my young mind at that time was merely about how to paying my own bills and not being a burden for my parents.”
I knew this story, my parents both bornt at the time when the economical circumstances in this country was rather unstable, mainly because the unjustice regime that was ruled back those time. Compared to them, I was extremely lucky to born in the family where I don’t have to work or struggling with money to be able to have school days everyday.
“When I have this job, my current safe-and-assured civil job, I thought there’s no need to pursue a higher degree, but it proved me wrong. Higher degree wil always be a necessary.” Father continued. “Then my current office had once offered to send me to continuing my study in order of employer development program but some political issues happen in management ends, affected that I don’t get what promised to me. That’s the time I feel a real regret.
There it goes, my dear,” he looked at me, intensely, “school is important. It always is.”
I’m not replied, because that statement is no need to be replied as it is an absolute principle of me already. But I got another think:
Apparently when you’re getting older, you’ll be more regreting for something you didn’t do than the one you did.
Thanks Mother who brought up this topic and Father who continued it, now I got a solution for some of my current problems.
“Can’t you believe it? They’re just cramped me out.”
“I failed to see what’s you point. She said that you worth it and he said this is your time. “
“You know what, you keep telling me about your dreams, each of them, until I got everything in my subconscious mind, then the earth give you exactly what you’ve been dreaming for and now you tried to evade them?”
“It just…. I don’t know whether it is right or it was merely me blinded by diamonds and pearls. Now I’m thinking about it and apparently it quite frightening.”
“Going out of your comfort zone always frightening, you asked for them first. Now I can’t understand.”
“I think I don’t want to go out.”
“Go out from where? You think you’re in it already? In your comfort zone? I can tell you how much you’ve been whinning to win my arguments but no, I’ll just reminds you that we’re on a same boat that sailing in the middle of stormy ocean, darling. No one of us is safe. What do you asking for?”
“I don’t know I’m so thrilled. Or perhaps it just because the hangover of Black Swan which I had been watched this evening. I understand the feeling when something that you’ve been longing forever makes you insane.”
“It draws you well?”
“It draws me well. Now I’m afraid of myself. I’m afraid of everything that I wanted. From the distance we can state an iceberg is enchanting until we come closer and collided and it becomes deadly.”
“You are afraid”
“I just not ready, I think.”
“No, you are afraid.”
“I’m so tired, can’t we just not talking about this?”
“Good, keep gliding out and you’ll never win”
“I don’t care. Good night, Darling. Here, listen the song I’ll be sleeping with tonight:”