They have only known each other for two hours.
It was eleven o'clock, and a gang of teenagers was getting ready for the night. Collared shirts, high heels, scents of perfume, gelled hair, glitters of lipstick, cigarettes, bare shoulders, cash for booze. The night was young, and the party was ready to begin.
She came with her friends, and he came with his. They were introduced. Names were exchanged; mere names, because knowing one's name could actually be the beginning of everything, no matter how a rose would smell as sweet even if it wasn't called a rose. They shook hands, one innocent little touch which meant nothing but formality. There wasn't any spark, nor exceptional first impression, nor bad intention. The introductory part was simple, insignificant, hardly memorable.
In the car, the two barely talked. They sat apart, a friend was in between. The only words spoken were when he asked what school she went to, in which she replied nonchalantly. They got busy with their other friends, with their own thoughts and excitement of the night.
They arrived in the club at midnight. The music was loud, lights flashed and swirled over smoke-filled heads. Not many people was down at the dance floor; the club was only warming up. It was quite a long time after they all sat down waiting for the atmosphere to build up when finally the waiter arrived with hands full of a bottle of Jack Daniels, a pitcher of coke, and several glasses. Excitements aroused as the whole set was put on the table. They were like a bunch of thirsty sandmen finding liquid of salvation they have longed for a long time.
A friend asked her if she wanted to get drunk quickly. She said yes. The friend continued to pour the tasty bottled liquid into a glass and handed it to her. She drank it straight up without coke, pure drops of heaven and hell combined. Four gulps and she asked for more.
And suddenly the world seemed to spin faster and everything turned lighter, lovelier, wilder. It was a big playground and she felt like a feather ready to explore every inch of the space. She loved the feeling of weightlessness; how her brain could eliminate unnecessary thoughts and focus only on controlling her body to move and grind to the right beat.
The whole bunch of them were dancing in a circle when she decided to turn her body around. She became face to face with the boy she had only met a while ago. They danced together with a distance between them. The distance was called I-only-know-your-name-and-nothing-else. It didn't take a long time for the distance to close in along with their state of drunkenness, and the next thing she knew was her hands on his shoulders, his hands on her hips as their bodies touched and moved in one rhythm.
It also didn't take a long time for the distance in between their lips to completely vanish. They were full of passion, full of alcohol, full of curiosity as their tongues intertwined and craved for one another. Pure lust had taken in place, and Lucifer shouted in triumph. Later on in the morning, when she was sober, she would try her best to remember who started first, yet it never worked. Not that it mattered anyway.
She wasn't sure of how long it went on. Their Parade of Lust was stopped by a friend who told them to stop snogging and get ready to get home. She asked what time it was, her friend said 4.30. She was amazed at the fact that the time they spent making out was more than the time they spent with their lips apart.
As they all got in the car, she realized she wasn't as drunk anymore. He sat next to her and put his arm around her. She rested her head on his shoulder, feeling his fingertips caressing her bare shoulder. She felt warm, composed, contented. Probably way too comfortable for a guy she was sober with for only two hours. And somehow she knew he was feeling the same way.
And that was when something magical happened. He bent his head down and kissed her. Not rough, not impatiently, not full of lust as before - but with feelings. It was exquisite, smooth, slow, almost everlasting. The Kiss With Feelings went on several times, and this time she felt a slight tingle in her stomach every time his lips touched hers. In the span of the moment, she could easily believe that they were lovers instead of strangers.
In the morning, she woke up finding his fingers in between hers.
She tiptoed out. Good, sober, angelic. And that was the end of that.
After all, they had only known each other for two hours.
Tuesday, October 5, 2010
Sunday, May 16, 2010
The Girl Who Dreamt Of The Moon
Once upon the time, there was a little girl. Every night she sat by her window and stared longingly at the moon. In her eyes it was the brightest object out in the night sky, and there was a reason for it. She believed that the moon was only radiant to whoever’s in love with it, since people who didn’t mind much of its existence would find it dull compared to the flirty stars. Thus, her being in love with the moon made its extravagance a thousand times more charming and unbeatable, and she found herself becoming more and more adrift in its beauty every passing day.
But always came the time when the moon disappeared and its throne got taken over by the sun. She found that situation strongly unacceptable, because then she had to wait for half a whole day to be able to see the moon again. Her excuse was simple: When you’re in love, a minute waiting feels like a thousand years dying. She began to think of a way to never let go of the moon.
She came up with a brilliant solution: She had to, just had to, unite with it. If they were together, nothing would tear them apart, not even the rotation of the earth or the cycle of the universe. There won’t be sun to interfere. There won’t even be days and night, because the moon would hold no other existence except of hers, and nothing else really mattered.
Hence, she tried everything. She sneaked into a NASA rocket satellite, she tried heaving the moon closer using a powerful magnetic source, she hired architects to build a tunnel to the surface of the moon, she went to an old wizard deep in the swamp and begged for him to magically transport her there, she jumped on a giant-sized trampoline and wished that she’d leap straight to the moon. Yet her efforts were fruitless, and at the end she was left with a handful of hopeless thoughts.
She was so desperate to get to the moon that one night something so indescribably wonderful happened. The moon suddenly waltzed off from its place up in the night sky, and towards the earth! It came further lower and lower, until she could be completely sure that it was approaching her. The wind was cold and ruthless, yet her heart warmed up like a bowl of soup in a saucepan and her eyes lit up like candles during an electricity blackout. And the moon was still gracefully moving closer toward her window.
At last they were face to face, apart only by her window frame.
“Would you like to come with me?” Asked the moon.
She held her breath in and whispered, “Yes.”
She began to climb out of her window. A vile thought suddenly flashed through her airy mind and she couldn’t help but to ask loudly, “Wait, this isn’t a dream is it?”
“Of course not, Sweetheart,” Smiled the moon.
She was ensured. She put one delighted step on the moon.
And that was exactly right when she woke up from her nap.
But always came the time when the moon disappeared and its throne got taken over by the sun. She found that situation strongly unacceptable, because then she had to wait for half a whole day to be able to see the moon again. Her excuse was simple: When you’re in love, a minute waiting feels like a thousand years dying. She began to think of a way to never let go of the moon.
She came up with a brilliant solution: She had to, just had to, unite with it. If they were together, nothing would tear them apart, not even the rotation of the earth or the cycle of the universe. There won’t be sun to interfere. There won’t even be days and night, because the moon would hold no other existence except of hers, and nothing else really mattered.
Hence, she tried everything. She sneaked into a NASA rocket satellite, she tried heaving the moon closer using a powerful magnetic source, she hired architects to build a tunnel to the surface of the moon, she went to an old wizard deep in the swamp and begged for him to magically transport her there, she jumped on a giant-sized trampoline and wished that she’d leap straight to the moon. Yet her efforts were fruitless, and at the end she was left with a handful of hopeless thoughts.
She was so desperate to get to the moon that one night something so indescribably wonderful happened. The moon suddenly waltzed off from its place up in the night sky, and towards the earth! It came further lower and lower, until she could be completely sure that it was approaching her. The wind was cold and ruthless, yet her heart warmed up like a bowl of soup in a saucepan and her eyes lit up like candles during an electricity blackout. And the moon was still gracefully moving closer toward her window.
At last they were face to face, apart only by her window frame.
“Would you like to come with me?” Asked the moon.
She held her breath in and whispered, “Yes.”
She began to climb out of her window. A vile thought suddenly flashed through her airy mind and she couldn’t help but to ask loudly, “Wait, this isn’t a dream is it?”
“Of course not, Sweetheart,” Smiled the moon.
She was ensured. She put one delighted step on the moon.
And that was exactly right when she woke up from her nap.
Thursday, May 13, 2010
The Girl Who Had A Hole In Her Chest Where Her Spongy Heart Used To Be.
Once upon a time, there was a little girl. She had the unimaginable disease of a Sponge Heart; which is the ability to absorb every little thing seriously and be emotionally attached to them. When such thing was diagnosed, the doctor resigned from the case out of shock and desperation to find the cure. Her parents travelled across the globe and went from one internationally acclaimed doctor to another, yet their efforts were fruitless.
After much discussion and recalculation, her parents decided to let her be. They could only hope that instead of being a fatal flaw, that heart condition of hers could give her benefits such as the beauty of consideration, compassion, gentleness, and care toward others in order to promote world peace and reduce poverty and famine.
As she grew up, things were looking remarkably good, even for herself. Because she took everything seriously, that made her a thinker, a hard worker, a helping saint to any misfortune that befalls the human race. And because she was emotionally attached to every little thing, that made her affectionate, full of sympathy and understanding, an angel to the eyes of the loathed, a divine example of sheer benevolence.
Until came the day her heart gets broken by a boy. The feeling was completely new to her, for she had never felt such pain. It was exactly like somebody had just tore open her ribs, yank her spongy heart out, and plunge it into a pit of ice cold water filled with poisonous venom. It was prickly, stabbing, agonizing, yet also numbing. Her sponge heart kept on absorbing and digesting the pain; she couldn’t get over it.
Because she took everything seriously, to her it was the end of the world. She had never felt so ugly and unwanted before, and in her eyes everything was beginning to crumble down into debris. And because she was too emotionally attached to such matter, she couldn’t help but to replay thousands of remorseful questions in her head; what exactly went wrong, how did I let this happen, how did he let this happen, how long is this going to last, why oh why the cruelty?
Overtime, as she kept falling down the bottomless well of despair, her sadness turned into anger. She was angry at such misfortune that had caused her inability to crawl back into space in the first place: her heart condition. She began to wonder, what if she was born with a normal heart designed to easily forgive and forget. What if she had a simple, solid heart with limited capacity and also an out vessel to exit some unwanted feelings? Things would’ve been easier that way.
Therefore, she decided to cut her heart out. One night, she sneaked into the operation room of a hospital, grabbed some knives, scissors, tweezers, and whatnot. She sliced open her chest, carefully cutting off the blood vessels and muscles that connected her heart to her body. And very slowly but steadily, she removed her heart, put it on the table, and stared at it for a long time. It really was spongy. It was weird. She felt much happier not having it inside her.
From then on, she had a hole in her chest where her spongy heart used to be.
After much discussion and recalculation, her parents decided to let her be. They could only hope that instead of being a fatal flaw, that heart condition of hers could give her benefits such as the beauty of consideration, compassion, gentleness, and care toward others in order to promote world peace and reduce poverty and famine.
As she grew up, things were looking remarkably good, even for herself. Because she took everything seriously, that made her a thinker, a hard worker, a helping saint to any misfortune that befalls the human race. And because she was emotionally attached to every little thing, that made her affectionate, full of sympathy and understanding, an angel to the eyes of the loathed, a divine example of sheer benevolence.
Until came the day her heart gets broken by a boy. The feeling was completely new to her, for she had never felt such pain. It was exactly like somebody had just tore open her ribs, yank her spongy heart out, and plunge it into a pit of ice cold water filled with poisonous venom. It was prickly, stabbing, agonizing, yet also numbing. Her sponge heart kept on absorbing and digesting the pain; she couldn’t get over it.
Because she took everything seriously, to her it was the end of the world. She had never felt so ugly and unwanted before, and in her eyes everything was beginning to crumble down into debris. And because she was too emotionally attached to such matter, she couldn’t help but to replay thousands of remorseful questions in her head; what exactly went wrong, how did I let this happen, how did he let this happen, how long is this going to last, why oh why the cruelty?
Overtime, as she kept falling down the bottomless well of despair, her sadness turned into anger. She was angry at such misfortune that had caused her inability to crawl back into space in the first place: her heart condition. She began to wonder, what if she was born with a normal heart designed to easily forgive and forget. What if she had a simple, solid heart with limited capacity and also an out vessel to exit some unwanted feelings? Things would’ve been easier that way.
Therefore, she decided to cut her heart out. One night, she sneaked into the operation room of a hospital, grabbed some knives, scissors, tweezers, and whatnot. She sliced open her chest, carefully cutting off the blood vessels and muscles that connected her heart to her body. And very slowly but steadily, she removed her heart, put it on the table, and stared at it for a long time. It really was spongy. It was weird. She felt much happier not having it inside her.
From then on, she had a hole in her chest where her spongy heart used to be.
Tuesday, May 4, 2010
Happiness.
I got accepted into 2 of the 3 universities i applied in. As of the 3rd one, which is University of Indonesia (the number 1 uni in this country), the entrance result hasn't came up yet. As odd as it seems, I so truly hope I don't get in. I have my own reasons, one of them being it is located in Jakarta. One more year living in this goddamn city and under the same goddamn roof as my parents and I'll go nuts.
Anyways, the 2 universities are:
Bandung Institute of Technology, faculty of Geo Engineering. I failed in getting into architecture. But who cares, this uni's still on the top 3 and ranks number 1 for all its technological studies in Indonesia.
University of Padjadjaran, faculty of Psychology. I took Science Studies in highschool, and most unis in Indonesia categorize Psychology as a Social Study. Therefore, unless I took extra study hours to master Social Studies, I wouldn't be able to get into Psychology major. This uni here is one of the very few unis that mostly accept students of Science Studies in its Faculty of Psychology, because the subjects rely more on the brain pattern of those who study Science in highschool. Plus, this uni's still on the top 10, I think.
I don't mean to boast, but toldja I was gonna be glorious ;)
Anyways, the 2 universities are:
Bandung Institute of Technology, faculty of Geo Engineering. I failed in getting into architecture. But who cares, this uni's still on the top 3 and ranks number 1 for all its technological studies in Indonesia.
University of Padjadjaran, faculty of Psychology. I took Science Studies in highschool, and most unis in Indonesia categorize Psychology as a Social Study. Therefore, unless I took extra study hours to master Social Studies, I wouldn't be able to get into Psychology major. This uni here is one of the very few unis that mostly accept students of Science Studies in its Faculty of Psychology, because the subjects rely more on the brain pattern of those who study Science in highschool. Plus, this uni's still on the top 10, I think.I don't mean to boast, but toldja I was gonna be glorious ;)
Saturday, May 1, 2010
Dear Asshole,
It’s almost midnight and here I am, lying wide awake on my bed, thinking what exactly went wrong. I ponder on several obvious questions: Haven’t my gestures been obvious enough to make you realize how I really feel about you? Are you just too naïve that you’re not able to read my signs? Or maybe you did read them, but you refuse to give back because you’re simply not attracted? How do you honestly feel about me?
I’ve never been one of an expert to read signals, and yours aren’t exactly the easy type to understand. Your gestures are vague, subtle, yet also unpredictable and highly indecipherable. It feels like I have to screw my hopeless brain around to break down everything you did and said to finally reach the end conclusion of your inmost feeling which is hidden deep beneath.
I recount every little sweet gesture that had happened in the past: The gentle stroke on my hair, the little squeeze on my fingers, the random message asking me how I am, the midnight chats filled with pretty words and enthusiasm to be in each other’s company… Those were the things that constantly gave me hopes. Those were the things that made me believe our feelings are mutual, everything but a one way street or a dead end, accepted and positively responded.
Then I recount every little unpleasant gesture: The way you always spelled my name wrong, the other short midnight chats where it seemed like you didn’t even feel like talking… Suddenly all lingering hopes are crushed into bits and pieces. The lights I’ve taken refuge in before are dimmed. The fulfilling warmth is replaced by a bitter cold, like the changing of a softly beaming dusk into a dead silence of the night.
You keep repeating those conflicting signals. After a while I begin to see a pattern: Once you get my hopes up, you’ll manage to succeed in getting them down again, and so on. You’ve trapped me into a vicious circle of never-ending uncertainties. I may know your pattern by now, but I still can’t predict what kind of message is it exactly you’re trying to send out.
The worst thing is now I don’t even know what to do. I’m not sure whether I should keep going forward, because I’m scared that you’ve never felt the same way in the first place. But I’m also unwilling to give up just yet, afraid that I might be wasting something very valuable yet sill unseen, which is the possibility of a returned feeling.
If only you’d speak it out. I need a certainty, an assurance, no more than several words. The road is only diverged into two; either “I’m into you as well” or “I’m simply not into you.”
It’s already midnight and here I am, lying wide awake on my bed, aching from how much I miss you. Aching from the fact that I haven’t got you quite figured out yet, furthermore from the fact that I probably never will.
Aching from the mere possibility of a broken-heart.
I’ve never been one of an expert to read signals, and yours aren’t exactly the easy type to understand. Your gestures are vague, subtle, yet also unpredictable and highly indecipherable. It feels like I have to screw my hopeless brain around to break down everything you did and said to finally reach the end conclusion of your inmost feeling which is hidden deep beneath.
I recount every little sweet gesture that had happened in the past: The gentle stroke on my hair, the little squeeze on my fingers, the random message asking me how I am, the midnight chats filled with pretty words and enthusiasm to be in each other’s company… Those were the things that constantly gave me hopes. Those were the things that made me believe our feelings are mutual, everything but a one way street or a dead end, accepted and positively responded.
Then I recount every little unpleasant gesture: The way you always spelled my name wrong, the other short midnight chats where it seemed like you didn’t even feel like talking… Suddenly all lingering hopes are crushed into bits and pieces. The lights I’ve taken refuge in before are dimmed. The fulfilling warmth is replaced by a bitter cold, like the changing of a softly beaming dusk into a dead silence of the night.
You keep repeating those conflicting signals. After a while I begin to see a pattern: Once you get my hopes up, you’ll manage to succeed in getting them down again, and so on. You’ve trapped me into a vicious circle of never-ending uncertainties. I may know your pattern by now, but I still can’t predict what kind of message is it exactly you’re trying to send out.
The worst thing is now I don’t even know what to do. I’m not sure whether I should keep going forward, because I’m scared that you’ve never felt the same way in the first place. But I’m also unwilling to give up just yet, afraid that I might be wasting something very valuable yet sill unseen, which is the possibility of a returned feeling.
If only you’d speak it out. I need a certainty, an assurance, no more than several words. The road is only diverged into two; either “I’m into you as well” or “I’m simply not into you.”
It’s already midnight and here I am, lying wide awake on my bed, aching from how much I miss you. Aching from the fact that I haven’t got you quite figured out yet, furthermore from the fact that I probably never will.
Aching from the mere possibility of a broken-heart.
Sunday, April 18, 2010
I hate you with all my life.
Dear the one single person I hate the most in the whole wide world,
The day you die, I’m going to scream HALELUYA with tears of joy and unrestrained delights. I won’t even be there at your funeral; I’d be too busy having fun in my new-found life without you fucking with it. I won’t even say a word of prayer. Well, except for that HALELUYA I mentioned above, although not directed to you, but as a sign of MY victory. And from that day on, as your deceased body rot into the earth, every single memory of you will also be erased from my mind, because I don’t want traces of your unwanted existence lingering about my brain. And then I will descend into a long life full of ease, freedom, and happiness, simply because you’re no longer a part of it.
With dignified regards,
Your ultimate hater
The day you die, I’m going to scream HALELUYA with tears of joy and unrestrained delights. I won’t even be there at your funeral; I’d be too busy having fun in my new-found life without you fucking with it. I won’t even say a word of prayer. Well, except for that HALELUYA I mentioned above, although not directed to you, but as a sign of MY victory. And from that day on, as your deceased body rot into the earth, every single memory of you will also be erased from my mind, because I don’t want traces of your unwanted existence lingering about my brain. And then I will descend into a long life full of ease, freedom, and happiness, simply because you’re no longer a part of it.
With dignified regards,
Your ultimate hater
The most stupidest conversation ever.
- B - Just hit play and watch my life fall apart.r u satisfied? says:
fuck man i feel so sorry for bella
adilla caulfield says:
why whats up
- B - Just hit play and watch my life fall apart.r u satisfied? says:
i talked to bella at rick's party
and she was like sad
adilla caulfield says:
sad abt emilio?
dw man she got edward and jacob
lmao
- B - Just hit play and watch my life fall apart.r u satisfied? says:
yeh sad abt emilio
LMFAO wtf
adilla caulfield says:
omg dont tell me u did not get the joke
- B - Just hit play and watch my life fall apart.r u satisfied? says:
i didnt.
adilla caulfield says:
WTFFFF
- B - Just hit play and watch my life fall apart.r u satisfied? says:
is that sumthin to do with twilight?
adilla caulfield says:
ARE U FUCKING DUMB
YESSSSS
JESUS
ok anyways
did u comfort her
- B - Just hit play and watch my life fall apart.r u satisfied? says:
i got that
but da joke wasnt funny
lol
adilla caulfield says:
hahahahah i know who wouldve laughed over twilight jokes anyway
- B - Just hit play and watch my life fall apart.r u satisfied? says:
HHHHHHHHHHH
I GOT IT NOW
COS HER NAME IS BELLA
LMFAOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOo
HAHAHAHAAHHAHAAHAHHAHAHAAH
adilla caulfield says:
OMGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGG
- B - Just hit play and watch my life fall apart.r u satisfied? says:
LMFAO bro
adilla caulfield says:
THIS IS THE STUPIDEST CONVERSATION I'VE EVER HAD IN MY LIFE
fuck man i feel so sorry for bella
adilla caulfield says:
why whats up
- B - Just hit play and watch my life fall apart.r u satisfied? says:
i talked to bella at rick's party
and she was like sad
adilla caulfield says:
sad abt emilio?
dw man she got edward and jacob
lmao
- B - Just hit play and watch my life fall apart.r u satisfied? says:
yeh sad abt emilio
LMFAO wtf
adilla caulfield says:
omg dont tell me u did not get the joke
- B - Just hit play and watch my life fall apart.r u satisfied? says:
i didnt.
adilla caulfield says:
WTFFFF
- B - Just hit play and watch my life fall apart.r u satisfied? says:
is that sumthin to do with twilight?
adilla caulfield says:
ARE U FUCKING DUMB
YESSSSS
JESUS
ok anyways
did u comfort her
- B - Just hit play and watch my life fall apart.r u satisfied? says:
i got that
but da joke wasnt funny
lol
adilla caulfield says:
hahahahah i know who wouldve laughed over twilight jokes anyway
- B - Just hit play and watch my life fall apart.r u satisfied? says:
HHHHHHHHHHH
I GOT IT NOW
COS HER NAME IS BELLA
LMFAOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOo
HAHAHAHAAHHAHAAHAHHAHAHAAH
adilla caulfield says:
OMGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGG
- B - Just hit play and watch my life fall apart.r u satisfied? says:
LMFAO bro
adilla caulfield says:
THIS IS THE STUPIDEST CONVERSATION I'VE EVER HAD IN MY LIFE
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