Cicada

 I still smoke a lot, though. Right in the middle of my chest is hurting now. But that's okay, if I die faster, that'd be fine too. Hahaha.  Tonight, I called a friend of mine. Just for talking, practising English, and just want to be listen though, but she's kinda a busy and doing something else. I don't blame her, though. It's her time and her energy. I feel like a burden, though, even now, I somehow beg for somebody's time and energy, even for saying hi and how are you. Many of my close friends have left me, too. Even though they said the opposite, that's how I am feeling. Okay, let's take a bet. I won't text anyone for seven days, and still no one will text me,  unless I text first or post something on social media. So, on April 4th, I will write about it again.  In the past, I didn't really care if someone wasn't calling or texting me or asking how I am. Since I was a child very few times somebody ask how are you? Therefore, I don't ...

 Today, I smoked almost two packs of cigarettes. My chest is hurting, and it's a bit hard to breathe. I want to die. But I miss her too. And she doesn't like cigarettes and beer, either. One day, when I was mad like a tantrum, I drank a beer in front of her, and we had a big argument. I am so sorry for that, amor. However, I did not smoke because of that. I am writing a book about Ambon and Conflict, so I need more energy to manipulate my body, my brain. I hate it, actually, just like I hate my brain that stores all the violent memories. But she said, "My brain is beautiful and kind." But she went, too. I don't know. I am confused and hurt.  I miss you mono.

To be honest, I wanna stop time, I wanna die. I am okay if, after writing, I die. But I don't wanna kill myself, but time.  Most of the night, I pray to God, please kill me, or just take me from this earth. I don't care and am afraid of dying, even spending the rest of my afterlife not in heaven. I am okay with that. I am not lying. I am okay if time takes my life now, or in the next second. I am just tired of everything. I miss her so much. I am suffering from this war, violence, abuse, blood, gunshots, bombs, crying, and I am just tired. Losing her just makes it worse. She's struggling until now. I can feel it. I can feel her. I am feeling that. My love is hurting her so much. My words. My mind. My body. I am really for her. I do love her so much. I wish to see her one more time, one more sunrise, one more cup of coffee, one more kiss, one more hug, one more time with her, and then I am going forever. I miss her, I miss you if you ever read this. Please come to me.  Mama,...

Buru #1 Pukul 23.36, dalam Fery menuju Namlea, tanpa teman. Beta tidak bisa tidur, kepala ingin pecah, ingatan perang mulai bermunculan. Bunyi mesin kapal seakan seperti bunyi kebakaran, atau kadang seperti tembakan. Sama halnya seperti ditinggalkan. Beta air mata tumpah sedikit. Beta ingin berteriak, dan menangis. Tapi beta takut membuat trauma anak kecil di samping beta. Lalu, beta pun tidak ingin menjadi buah bibir dan menjadi pusat perhatian orang-orang di Fery. Sebagian besar mereka semua sudar tidur. Beta tangan agak gemetar, dan kepala pusing, lalu mata ingin menangis. Beta tidak bisa tidur. apalagi karena beta sendirian. beta ingat ketika ke wansar dua kali, setidaknya ada teman, misalnya Iftin dan kaka Riyan. Beta ingin pegang tangan Iftin karena waktu itu dia juga pegang tangan saat dia pusing dan takut karena ombak. Sekarang giliran beta yang ketakutan bukan karena ombak atau gelombang, tapi ingatan-ingatan masa lalu. Kalau pun orang baca ini, pasti ada yang pikir beta berle...

 Almost every night, I pray: God, it's okay to take my life now, or in the morning. I am okay with not waking up. I am just tired, though. But please take care of her. I miss her. I miss her warm eyes, and her hair, and her voice. 

 I miss her I miss you I just wanna hear your voice I am in pain

 we both the ocean only we know I am gazing at you as I walk You are running our feets touch the sand our eyes are hugging our lips are shining our hearts are praying and hoping Let me come home  to the ocean Only we know only two of us only you and me e.m.

 We were a tree grew with wound and pain full of fruits of love before going to sleep i used to read a story book a dreamtime for you how was your sleep last night? I can't read to you again Therefore, I read to my mind close my eyes and imagine the tree that we were amor