Elephant Man, oh Elephant Man...

"Tis true my form is something odd,
But blaming me is blaming God.
Could I create myself anew,
I would not fail in pleasing you.
If I could reach from pole to pole,
Or grasp the ocean with a span,
I would be measured by the soul,
The mind's the standard of the man."

A poem by Isaac Watts that Joseph Merrick would use to end his letters.

My reply:

Elephant man, oh Elephant Man
Thou art indeed excluded from any clan
Fairness had not been betrothed upon thee
As bizarre and twisted thou may be
Foul smelling skin and distorted joints
Malformed cells infecting every loins
Thus, no woman ever walked the earth
Would ever show thee a loving mirth

Indeed, thy true form is something odd
And blaming thee is blaming God
And living in thy world, being in thy form
Is like living inside a sad, tormented storm
Of which people walk round as to not pass by
And no vultures are even tempted to pry

But Elephant Man, oh Elephant Man
I feel thee, a heart too broken to mend
Living in a world where people see no more
Instead they stare, eyes empty of any lore
Dim-witted, narrow minds colliding vanity
Black-blooded, wickedness corrupting morality
Like lazy, glorious tyrants whose tongues tell lies
As they vanish behind the thin line that separates men from mice

Therefore, my dear Elephant Man
Thou may try to grasp the ocean with a span
Alas, there's no point in trying to please
Since humanity proveth to be nothing but a tease

The type of city Jakarta is.

The notch in your bedpost.
People come, People go, people forget. What was that city’s name again? You know, the one as chaotic as Bangkok only uglier trannies?

The going going gone.
Everything is fast forwarded. Turtles die, rabits triumphed. Finders’ keepers, you snooze you loose, time’s more precious than money. Tick tock TICK TOCK.

The please forget me not, please.
Really friggin’ desperate for some appreciation here. I mean helloooo I got lights, I got Louis Vuitton, I got shiny fast cars, I got kids starving to death begging in the middle of a pouring rain, don’t I at least deserve some credit?

The gold maker life ruiner.
The centre of opportunities indeed. Just don’t cry regretting over your lost life when you’re in the middle of it. I warned you!

The over dignified whore.
I can’t afford to look cheap! Gotta put some more make up on so more and more human beings will get attracted to my fabricated beauty!! Hm where’s my botox shot?

The I’m the new NY yo, only hotter. Literally.
I mean I realize that at least NY got winter. But hey, I’m sexy I’m hot, I’m everything you’re not! ;)

The bully.
Fuck those poor small cities ya’ll, I can easily crush ‘em all with my gigantic power and wealth. After all, I’m such a pro on luring those wealthy executives to triple their money on my fat money stuffed belly.

The obese.
Population of 12 million by day and 8 million by night. Whew, I’m still starving nevertheless. Delivery please!

The why the fuck am I not in the center of the stage! Oh I am already? Then why the fuck isn’t the spotlight pointed at me! Oh it is already?
I feed on attention. Yeah look at me world, I can put my whole fist into my mouth YAY!

The inside of Barbie’s head.
Empty. No brainer. Brains are only for hideous looking people so they’ll find something to feel good about. Nuh-uh. Too sexy for that.

The life guru.
I teach patience. If you don’t have enough patience living here, you’ll end up either crazy or die a premature death, which will be caused either by craziness, heart-attack, or suicide. YEAH FINALLY I HAVE SOMETHING DELIGHTFUL TO BOAST ABOUT!!!

Boy do I love trashing Jakarta...

2009, oh 2009...

Looks like I’m going to have to assume that years with uneven numbers bring bad luck to me. I gotta say I’m not much of a superstitious person, but jeez seriously, by the way one good year passed simultaneously followed by a bad one and so on, I’m starting to believe that even though my favorite number is 9, I’d do better with 0, 2, 4, 6, or 8.

Let’s see... I was born in 1992, a year that ends with an even number. My being born oughtta be a good thing right, so I’ll use 1992 as a strong alibi to prove that my theory is correct. Unless if I’m some kind of ungrateful douche who actually regrets her own existence and wishes that the year 1992 will forever be erased in the whole history of mankind... But I’m not, thanks

Or am I? Hm...

Moving on, I can’t vividly remember and also too effin lazy to try to remember the details of what happened throughout the following years, up till 2004. So I’m just gonna make a little comparison here:

2004: Moved to Melbourne. I loved travelling, and as a runny-nose kid I had always dreamt about living overseas. Until finally one bright day on 2004 mom decided to take me and brother to live in Melbourne during her 3 years of PhD. GOOD YEAR.

2005: Fitting in is hard. Trying to fit in a completely alienated environment where almost nobody speaks the same language you do is even fucking harder. Didn’t know what to do, didn’t know how to speak properly, didn’t know who to hang with, didn’t know what to expect, got bullied by some redneck loser. BAD YEAR. Oh maybe it wasn’t so bad since this was the first time Bahar and I met. But then at first I didn’t like her, she didn’t like me, and bitch fight was all it was about. So yeah BAD YEAR after all.

2006: Best year during my overseas stay. I wouldn’t call it the happiest year, because God only knows how emo I was during those moments, but I would call it The Year That Mattered The Most. Excitement was definitely in the air. Found a soulmate, fell in love, experienced pleasure like the first time a kiddo licks a candy, learnt to love the people I was with, learnt the joy of learning (or whatever), got labeled as “rebellious” (hell yeah I’m proud of this), got labeled as “slutty” (maybe not so proud, but it was actually a pleasant shock since I thought I was shy). This would’ve been the best year in my whole 17 years life if it wasn’t for those little bumps like the frequent occurences of suicidal thoughts while quietly crying my eyeballs out alone in school toilets because apparently the guy I was in love with was dating some hideous bitch.
Again, God only knows how much of an emo I was back then. But now I can only laugh about it and say that it was indeed an enlightening experience. Overall, GOOD YEAR.

2007: Moved back to Indonesia. Ew. Got eternally heart-broken. Yuck. Gained a father. Blurgh. Weird early school moments where fitting in turned to be as difficult yet pointless as ever. Plus annual school play sucked ass, especially if the role you got consisted of only a few tedious lines in one unimportant scene. Unimaginable. BAD YEAR indeed.

2008: I’d call this a good year because finally I made some achievements: 1. Got my English short story published on the newspaper, 2. Got my Indonesian short story as one of the runner ups for a national short story writing competition, 3. Got picked and accepted to participate in Asian Science Camp 2008 (Truth be told I hated science like a living hell, and the only reason the teacher picked me was because my English was adequate, not because I excelled in stupid maths. Bali was worth it tho), 4. Granted a short cultural excange scholarship to Japan for a couple of weeks (this I felt like a champion). So yeah, GOOD YEAR.

2009: Love live is going downhill, no achievement whatsoever (I sent my short stories to a couple of competitions and for fuck’s sake I’m such a loser), parents are getting more irritating as they are getting older, my education’s future is an uncertain mumble jumble, moreover my search for divine happiness (LOL at this, how can I be divine if pray I never? Meh I’ll sort this one out later. Late Er). Ha, I feel like I’m undergoing a mid-life crisis here... at the age of 17!! Geez since when did we Asians grow so fast, weren’t we envied for our long-lasting youthful appearances? Unbelievable. Anyways, BAAAD YEAAARRR.

Nearing the end of 2009, I actually have one thing to look forward to: 2010! If my theory is correct, 2010 will be a heck of a good year. And if a good year includes my getting accepted into the university and the faculty I’m aiming for, and my mom keeps her promise of letting me visit Melbourne if I succeeded, then hail to you, World, I just triumphantly decipher the secret ways of Fate!!! Muahahahahahahaha (Unless if nowadays she is called Destiny... But yeah one way or another biatch)

I am a lonesome stalker.

9:30 pm
yesss YESSS finally I'm in the mood to do my long-procrastinated school project/thesis/assignment!!! Caffeine is indeed the new Santa...

9:45 pm
Whoa that actually felt like days... I think I deserve a little break, let's open my facebook page and see if anyone had actually remembered my existence during the weekend!

9:47 pm
Hmmm... friends from my old school had already posted their graduation pics. Wouldn't hurt to take a 'lil peek would it now?

9:50 pm
Dress ups by day and formal graduation party by night? Interesting... Remind me why I'm not in the pics right now smiling happily to the camera while some dude's hand is resting around my waist, again?

9:51 pm
OMG this has got to stop!!! Friggin' hell why can't you stop hovering about the past? What's dead is DEAD Adilla, get over it. Plus you should be doing your schoolwork by now, so snap out of it!!
... Oh well maybe a couple more pics would be just fine...

9:55 pm
Holy fucking shit I should've realized this was coming!! I should've shutted down my whole internet connection like I knew better!! I should've cut my wrist open and smeared my computer screen with blood thick and good to prevent me from seeing what I'm seeing now!! WHY oh WHY my graceful forgiving loving God, doesn't he at least have the mercy as NOT to look hot even in his facebook pics??????????????????????????

9:58 pm
Oh my last breath indeed had just passed away before me... Look at how beautifully the sunlight shineth on that sleek dark hair of his... Look at that radiant smile that even the most blossomed roses are jealous of its unforgivable curse of exquisite charm...

10:00 pm
And now he is nothing but a Spanish Sex God (A Spanish Sex God who of course, isn't actually Spanish). That figure... OH THAT FIGURE! Which could seduce the most obstinate girls in the whole wide world, which could turn Casanova either enraged or suicidal with envy, since no true lady would ever disregard the exotic sensuality that exudes from his aura... That lady being me of course.

10:05 pm
"Oh love! Oh fire! Once he drew with one long kiss my whole sould through my lips, as sunlight drinketh dew"

10:20 pm
Dear God, Allah, Jesus, Yahweh, whichever, if you can hear me right now, please let me bump into an ugly photo of him, therefore as vain as I am, I'll be able to get over him simply by noticing misperfection on his ever-perfect face, and life will go about just fine and I'll be able to finish my schoolwork tonight...

10:30 pm
OMG YESS YESS nailed you byotch!! I've found a not-so-good-looking photo of you, finally!! HA turns out you're not as hot as you thought you were, are you? (Correction: Turns out you're not as hot as I thought you were, are you?) Anyways lemme just have a good 2 minutes look and soon I'll be over you.

10:45 pm
Naah I can't lie to myself, COME ON!! No matter how bad you look in that particular stupid facebook photo, in the back of my mind you're still the perfect young lover-slash-heartbreaker who made my old days as unforgettable as ever...

10:46 pm
SO WHAT NOW??


Note: These writings are exaggerated, of course, it's more fun that way. I'm not as stalker-ish as I appeared to be, honest to God.
... Or am I??

A letter to al sexual harassers on behalf of all sexually harassed girls.

Jakarta, 18 October 2009

Dear Sexual Harassers,

You seriously amaze me. You amaze me for being able to somehow create a self-fulfilling enjoyment out of something so morally corrupt. You amaze me for succeeding in finding you own way to satisfy your revolting, sickened libido in every situation possible, whenever wherever however. You amaze me for not having to feel any pangs of shame at all, because you think what you do is hands-down righteous according to the fact that you seem to have more power and control over you victims, therefore you are free to act. You amaze me for being able to just walk off light-heartedly after sexually harassing someone, with eyes sparkling with pleasure and sperm cells accumulating inside your testicles waiting to be more roused up.

Remember 6 years ago, when I was nothing but a merry 6th grader, and as I was walking down the street with a friend, one of you walked in the opposite direction and as we came across, like a professional nasty thing that you are, you very stealthily landed your left hand onto my left breast? Wow you really do amaze me, for not even minding the fact that my breasts hadn’t actually grown, and nothing from my body except for my face was exposed, since I was wearing a goddamn hijjab. I wonder how that felt for you, really. Because for me, it felt like suddenly i was not a child anymore, like God had just unjustly decided to snatch back my girlhood innocenceby sending you to deliberately taint my naive purity. I bet you don’t even know what its like to think that you’re no longer pure, do ya, only because of one split moment made appaling by a random stranger who thought of your 11-year-old flat breasts as a jerk-off apparatus? Well, it’s equal with having your balls chopped off with a rusty chainsaw, because by then you would have nothing to be proud of.

OMFG remember last night, 6 bloody whole years after the booby incident, when I was among the thousand of people who were making their exit from a gig, and suddenly one of you grabbed my ass? Boy, did I feel your highly desperate sexual tensions flowing from that nasty squeeze. Let me guess, your looks are so vomit-inducing that you never actually had any girls putting special attentions to you before, therefore there is no way that you can actually feel the warmth and loving of a proper girlfriend, thus your only solution is to lurk beneath the dark so you can fervently stretch your hand and nimble on the cute softness of girls’ asses in your reach, without them not being able to see how grotesque you look so their faces won’t strain in disgust? Jesus Christ you really do amaze me. Oh, remember how I turned around, even though I didn’t exactly know which one of you did it, and I called you ANJING and TAI and shouted curses like there was no tomorrow? Ha, I bet you didn’t expect that coming did ya? You think most girls wouldn’t have the guts to do this, but I swear to Allah if my friend didn’t stop me right that moment I might’ve ended up screaming insults to your whole defected generation for not raising you up properly, thus you became the depraved, pathetic loser you are now.

And how about you, verbal sexual harassers? You think it’s less decadent to harass girls with words instead of actions? Well guess what, it’s not. In fact, it makes you more of a loser in a way, a talk only no action loser. Besides, what did you actually get from whistling at me passing by, or saying that I have a pair of sexy ass, with all your friends and their acne-suffused face, yellow teeth, and dandruff flakes snickering past? Nothing but a 3-second laugh indeed. So for humankind’s better future, why don’t you get up for a change and open the newspaper for a job vacancy search, for God’s sake, and try lifting off a bit of your old folks’ burden of still having you useless around the house by the age of 40.

One last thing, dear sexual harassers, never EVER use alibies such as “It’s her fault for showing too much skin” or “I wouldn’t have touched her if she didn’t wear that short of a skirt” to cover up your moral deficient minds. Take Australia for instance, girls wear panty-like shorts and tank tops with their cleavages flashing everywhere, and did they get their ass grabbed every time they go public? NO. Congratulations, dear sexual harassers, you just succeeded in making the image of our beloved nation low and corrupted in the eyes of others. You know what, I’ll be fair and try not to compare our Muslim-based country with a non-Muslim one. Take upper class Jakarta, instead. Girls don’t go to Grand Indonesia with really mini dresses peeping out bits of their butt cheeks only so some sad losers could get them squeezed, do they? Seriously, it’s not US who “don’t have any respect towards ourselves”, it’s indefinitely YOU, bastardious parasite-like morally inane you.

Fuck You a Thousand Times Over,
Adilla Mutia Fatimah

The girl who proves.

I want to be the girl who sees beauty the way it should be. Who laughs in tune with the rustling leaves on the tallest treetops like an unstructured harmony of careless whispers. Who, on rainy days, views soaked street-children as badly behaved cupids fallen fom grace, with premolar teeth and malleable bones. Who knows how to search for deeper, concealed meanings in things that are utterly dejected, and thus rejected; to prove that beauty doesn’t always necessarily comes from something pretty.

I want to be the girl who’s willing to befriend pain, angst, heartbreaks, regrets, sadness, errors, and thousands of other emotions that humans tend to leave untouched, discarded. Who deals with them face to face, runs them through her veins like a shot of morphine, truly inhaling the sensations as they sink deep like rain soaking into the dry earth. Who isn’t scared of facing the absurd, cruel, backstabbing reality and be dissapointed over and over again; to prove that the reason we fall down is so we can learn to pick ourselves up.

I want to be the girl who’s able to stand tough on the ground when all else falls away. Who is not afraid of being herself, even if it means being different, or being labeled as different. Who lives life distinctively, significantly, separated from the typicals, the trivials, and the cliches; to prove that rocks stay unharmed because they’re not easily swept by the wind.

I want to be the girl whose perspectives are crystal-clear and unbiased. Whose strong believes exceeds others’ expectations, yet whose enduring tolerance overcome those with dim wits and narrow minds. Who’s able to distinguish, without judging, good from evil, right from wrong, winners from losers, the mended from the broken; to prove that naive judgments only lead to multiple fragments of misunderstandings.

I want to be the girl who accepts challenges with wide open arms and dares to venture into the wild unknown. Who’s willing to combat oncoming obstacles till her last crimson drop of blood, even when there’s only a small chance of victory. Who feels the sudden urge to climb up the highest mountain only to stand at the edge of the cliff, face the world below, and shout as loud as possible till her lungs shrink, muscles disjointed, nerves numbed down, and blood exasperated with thrilled excitements; to prove that nothing is impossible.

One depressing chat.

Bahar says:
adilla, do u really srsly still feel the same way abt him, the way u did like 3 years ago man?
what is it that u cant exactly let go of?

adilla caulfield says:
not exactly the same way
but like, there are leftover feelings still stuck inside me that i cant possibly get rid of
the weird thing is, i think i cant let go of the fact that i never get what i wanted with him
that everything went wrong
and as long as im not satisfied, ill never get over it

Bahar says:
u know
i know exactly how that feeels..
but adilla, at some point, we all have to let go
u know i can sit here and listen to depressing songs all i want and cry my eyes out
but he wont hear a damn thing.. he wont hear me
the thing is
we r so caught up in the past and "how it used to be" or how we would've liked it to be, that not only we miss the present, but we r gonna miss the future too..



Damn, it's not fun being involuntarily stuck in your past...