Blue Sky Collapse

As I walk to the end of the line, I wonder if I should look back to all of the things that were said and done. I think we should talk it over. Then I notice the sign on your back; it boldly says "Try to Walk Away". I go on pretending I'll be okay. This morning, it hits me hard that still everyday I think about you. 

Nothing beats a fast-driven car. It goes so fast, so speedy, that up to one point, you don't feel yourself anymore. Just the blinding wind, and the time is like being fast-forwarded. It's like just running away from the past, escaping from the pain, and eventually, forgetting about the life itself. 

But reality hits. From time to time. So you'd have to push your brake. You'd have to stop, trying to digest the pain, the smile, the tears, the happiness, or everything else, again. For you can't be the winner when you're racing with time. You can't really pretend that you'd be okay forever. You'd have to look back, to make peace with yourself before you move on.... 


So I stopped. 

Appeased the adrenaline rush. 

Took a deep breathe. 

And reality hit me so hard that I finally surrendered myself to the fact that I have loved, I have fought, but I have lost. 

The pain started to fill in my chest, as I remembered again his smile. His eyes. His hugs. His odor. His kiss.. Our kiss. Our love. Our moment. Our intimacy. Our past..My past. 

I walked out of my car, hugging my arms. Isn't love a sweet misery? Despite the pain, and everything ugly, we're willing to take the risk to let ourselves fall. Fall so deep that even sometimes we lose ourselves. Or is it true that it IS the pain that makes the happiness taste sweeter? 


Did it matter anymore? 
Frankly, I didn't know. And I didn't want to know. When it's time to let go, are there any other option than to let go? Is there any use to keep an already broken mirror? Already broken dream? 


So I said goodbye. 

As I stare at the wall in this room, the cracks; they resemble your shadow. When everyday I see time goes by; in my head, everything stood still.. I'm waiting for things to unfreeze, till you release me from the ice block. It's been floating for ages washed up by the sea and it's drowning - thought you should know that..still everyday I think about you. I know for a fact that's not your problem, but if you change your mind you'll find me hanging on to the place, where the big blue sky collapse. 

As I drove home, I noticed that perhaps love is like the darken sky. It got the sky black like the night. It collapsed the blue blue sky. Still, it waited for you to redeem the bright morning with your ribs. And perhaps at that time, the two souls would again find each other and just be home. 

You see, people are trying to find their way back home, So I'll find my way to you. 

*Song from  Blue Sky Collapse, Adhitiya Sofyan, from the Album Quiet Down. 

Sex and The Boy #2

Now I know what's the missing piece. It's LOV.. E. #selfquote

Have you ever felt a difficulty to make peace with yourself?


No, this is not about the self-denial that we see so often in PLU's lives. This is about the things you have done, and you're not so proud about it, so you try to give yourself an excuse. You feel really really bad about it that you try to explain what's really happening, for it was good. Somehow you're kind of regretting it, but it's not regret, because you actually enjoyed it. And by the end of the day, you intent to let it happen again. 

Yes, I'm talking about guilty pleasure. You know it's wrong, you know it's low, but we all know that all thing which is supposedly to be forbidden is very very sweet we get addicted. Everybody has it, so what's the big deal here? I am pretty much amazed that I find myself trying to come out with any logical explanation to make it tolerable and acceptable. To make everything okay, in the mere reason so that I could finally stop despise myself. And you already read it in the part one.


Like, what's forbidden about the sex? What's wrong with wanting sex? If it is wrong and forbidden then I am all wrong and forbidden since the beginning of time, right? Er...see? Here I go again. All that stuff. All that self-defense reasoning. And why am I beating myself this hard to explain something normal? Gee. Playing saint is really getting old, Ed. 

Sex is supposed to be liberating, right? It frees you from the urge, it gives you this particular sensation, and it is not wrong to want it again and again, right? To the top of that, isn't it supposed to be fun? I mean, the reason why sex is so addicting is because it's so fun, isn't it?
The moment where you can forget about the rest of the world?
The moment when you could just lie down, thinking about nothing, except the dopamine, the adrenaline, and any other sensation?
The moment where it's just you and him, and nothing else matters?


And right there, at the moment where I finally accepted the fact, surrendered myself to the guilty pleasure, at that exact time too I lost my appetite.


Yes.


A cute guy was holding you so tight, kissing you, and asking you how to serve you in the best way. Nice body, although not-all muscular, but still okay. Gentle attitude. Everything a guy like me could really imagine. And he was standing naked, standing so true that you didn't want to blink your eyes for this fear that he's going to disappear.
But something's off. There's this missing piece somewhere, and when you think that you have found it, you noticed that the pieces just did not fit anymore. So instead of the expected great sex, it went so-so. The fireworks just cooled off so easily that it didn't even leave any mark in the sky.


Was it because of the great expectation - meaning, the more you expect it to be great, the more it sucks?
Then where do you really draw the line; between a really good sex and a really big SLUT? How much sex could one have before people start labelling him a BIATCH? Or are we supposed to just not care, and go on with our lives, as sex is supposed to be private and limited to our bed-room only - or in some case, the car, the sofa, the garden, the bath-room, and so on? Even so, is it wrong to be a really GOOD slut when we're having sex?


So we picked up our clothes, and I looked at him, again. Trying to get a better look on his image. Still my type. Still the guy from my dream. As this empty feeling created a bigger and bigger hole in my chest, I smiled at him, with no intention to ever seeing him again. We said casual goodbye, and I tried to remember again what it was like at the first time I started doing no-string-attached-sex.


I was in a very dark place, trying to forget someone from the past by escaping into strangers' arms. Trying to get rid of his image, and trying to bargain my lonely nights just so it could be a little more bear-able. But he is just a past, now. I don't need to get under some guys to get over him anymore..


And as the sky was getting darker, I knew I had to move on.
I knew that I needed to have a better self-esteem.
I knew it's time to make peace with myself, and to embrace more of myself.
I knew, I needed to get a good night sleep.
There'd be a fight going on, very soon.