a person contains multitudes

a person contains multitudes

and temporalities

and neither we can prevent it,

nor change it

for the person has a sovereignty to do it 

but can we normalise it?

that's another thing

-

for years,

whenever i love someone

i have taken a blame

that i might lack something

if someone cannot love us

so dearly 

like we love them 

but i know a person contains multitudes

and no matter how good we are

great we are

affectionate we are

it won't change anything

except the person

decides to do so

-

so it is not our job

to clean the remnants

and ruination

of the past 

in a person.

that person should be brave

to fully aware what kind of things left

neatly put it as a form

that he or she might not reminisce again

for they have committed

with another person 

-

for years 

women have been told to wait

and to have patience

and to have strength

and to have resilience

to wait until someone is ready to love her

and along the way, the women should give undivided affection like there's nothing happen?

but what if we reverse the narrative?

what if, we are given a chance to be loved by someone who are fully ready to be onboard with us, so the patience, the strength, the resilience, the affection, will be spent to face the present and future challenges? not the past? 

-

a person contains multitudes

the difference is to not let the multitudes divide them as an incomplete human being

i cannot stop thinking the meaning of the songs that are not even dedicated to me. 

maybe love is not enough.

today I learn

 today i learn that i have to trust bell hook, who once said:

"knowing how to be solitary is central to the art of loving. when we can be alone, we can be with others without using them as a means of escape."

it is ourselves that we have to trust, first and foremost. 

to face any pain with bravery; perhaps if we cannot confront or ask her today, ask her another day, "what makes you hurt?" 

to face any hardship with perseverance. 

--

it is us we can rely upon. it is us we rely upon. 

thank you, bell hooks, for a kind reminder.

written while listening to Layur and Rara Sekar - Insignificant Other.

my ma's happiness

today my ma sent a picture of her and her office mates winning lip sync battle. she uses an emo and gothic-like attire and I asked her, "mum, why did you dress like Evanescence?" she laughed and said, "I sang a song by My Chemical Romance! It has to be dark, don't you think?"

I smiled and replied, "yes." she sent me other three pictures. she laughed in every single picture. she seems so carefree. she looks pretty. she sent me other lengthy messages, so insistent that I catch every details of her performance: the jury's comments, the audience's reactions, the praise she received from her team.

I smiled and replied, "I'm glad if you are happy." because I am; my ma deserves the world but the world is sometimes very hard to her. I imagine she faces a different reality when she goes home, facing another round of harsh words and shallow commentaries by a man i should call 'father'. so, I'm glad if her office offers her another reality where she is beloved, and cherished, and appreciated, and respected.  a reality that should've present everywhere she goes. a reality where she does not have to get a mistreatment just because an immature man cannot manifest his ego. 

how could someone hurt a person who love them so much? how could someone do not fear of feel guilty when they inflict a pain on a person who take care of them so gently? 

i love my ma, but she teaches me that I should find someone who will try hard and harder and harder and harder to give me the love that I deserve. 

microcosmos

the sun rises in the east,

set in the west,

earth rotates 

and moon revolves,

everything remains the same 

but deep down

deep down

deep

down

 

stronghold

the sounds of bird chirping

and the crescendo the morning sun makes

along the walls, without painting

i opened my eyes

and you were still asleep

and you are here; i am here; we are here

the universe stay still and we persist

Melancholia

Last night we fought,

Adding a long record of fights that we do not require

Because why fight when we cherish each other's presence, love each other's self, long for each other's story?

Why fight if small friction only means a millimetre dark stain on the big, colourful fabric?

Last night I cried myself to sleep,

Hoping that you could watch my dismay

And in that dismay you could watch a multitude of feelings I hold for you 

For what you feel is I've never been fond of you or have never loved you as big as you do (but how do we compare? How do we measure? How do we be sure?)

But it is surely not like that

I always feel

When I say "stars are very far"

And by saying that, what I want to emphasise is yet, I can feel the star's magnificence

You would only focus on the distance

When I say "I need my time alone"

And by saying that, in fact, I only need some me-time for awhile and do not reject yourself as a totality,

You would only focus on the abandonment

When I say "we are still early"

And by saying that, what I want to express is the unexplorable spaces and contexts and genres we are yet to explore (and we are exploring some of it, a work in progress!)

But you would only focus on the fact that I disregard our timeline and temporalities and agency to make meanings of our time relativity

I wonder:

What is wrong with us? What is wrong with our conversation? Is it because we cannot express so clearly what we meant to say, or we cannot interpret so plainly what our beloved meant to say, or is it because there's something so inherent in our connection that we are too stubborn to acknowledge? 

This morning I woke up and remembered the happy dream that I had: we travelled to another city, snow was drizzling around us and from your hair, we are smiling from ear to ear like sadness will not be able to master our emotion, and never have I ever felt so carefree, and happy, and loved, and simple. Then I remembered how you said you do not trust me, and the feelings of dread returned to me.

Sayang, can we be simple?

I think it is the most fundamental reason beneath my willingness to learn and walk with you: that I'm sure under our complexities, the heart of the matter if we are simple persons who love each other. 

My ego disagreed with me when I said I was okay if you did not trust me, because she was certainly not. How could she? But we learn, and we unlearn, and I want to give an ample space for you to feel anything you want to feel, but I pray to God that you will see I go nowhere, without you.

And I hope it's fine for now. 

love that lasts (hopefully)

you are so persistent; like a dew trickles down and falls to a stubborn stone, like a ray of sunshine infiltrates a tiny bit of space of someone's warehouse, like the first London siren which wakes me up ahead of my alarm. you resonates a type of this intrusive energy that melts me down, into an insignificant being, something so small and hopeful and humbled and optimistic and fearful and brave and vulnerable and strong; something so complex yet so simple—contradiction of one another yet complement each other too. you reminds me of the colourful horizon that once clouded by big big cumulonimbus in gloomy London sky.

i came home today with a heavy heart. last night we spent an awfully good time, didn't we? we spoke myriads of things that have happened, is happening, and will happen—in the near future or the far one. i compliment your smile and you compliment my presence. 

i came home today with a heavy heart, and i've already missed you by the time i stir my loneliness in my coffee. i put my heart on my pillow and she tells me about the story of this strong boy who likes to laugh and entertain, but hides a multiple layers of sorrow and forlorn. 

at that moment i know i love you so dearly. 

----

written while listening on 'To Build a Home' and 'That Home' by The Cinematic Orchestra interchangeably. 

thank you, A, for coming into my life.