Still November

I don't really have much to conclude. I've been on holiday, spent hours on my motorcycle, cried, bought unnecessary things. Everything I needed to keep me feeling something. Most of the times I just pass the time feeling nothing. I sleep dreamless nights. Mornings are not better times. All this longing feeling devours me. I thought time would change me into something; months after, all I know I have made sadness into rock solid and concrete cold. There is nothing I could do but letting this happen.

What seems to be forever is the wait. I begin to doubt the concept of "temporary" because time passes so slow and so strange.

Speaking of strange, there are some feelings I barely recognize. Attraction, affection and sex. All feelings that stick to them, I don't think I can feel them anymore. Like I have felt everything in this world and there won't be anything new. Nothing would ever surprise me or touch me with a warmth equals to morning sunshine or clean tap water in August afternoon. I can't picture myself standing beside a man with butterflies on my stomach and feeling secure. There will be no secure after this. I'm turning old, gray and overwhelmed by disbelief.

There are times I throw myself into tantrum. Then I feel like, no. You got this. Just like the tide; the emotions creep up and down, just like that. 

November

So, it's been a while I haven't written anything. It's November now. It's been seven months since you left, but I let everything just the way the last time we met. I haven't seen anyone for a while. Not even thought about getting laid or getting drunk. I built a high wall and hide. I don't feel right to be with anyone but you.

I know it sounds silly. But whenever I feel like leaving, something tells me to stay a little a while. Just in case you'll knock on my door again. And there's you, still in your cold exterior, as tough as a wall I build for men around me. You left me waiting outside your door. I don't even know if there is a door. All I could do is staying here, waiting until something happens.

And I cry anywhere possible: on my way to work, in the bathroom, at work, in foreign city, on my prayers at night. I thought it was guilt that haunt me down, but when the guilt has gone, all that left was a nervous thought: "what if he is the one?"

I am so scared. What if.. I will spend the rest of my life mourning for an requited love? Will I see you, once again, marry another girl? Will I marry a man I don't really love, just because it makes sense and we'll secretly think of each other every night? And I am so nervous just to think about how this feeling would end up.

I kneel and pray. If this is not happening, I beg to God to take this feeling away. Just take it away, let it die, I can't contain it anymore. I am too small for this amount of love that would not flow anywhere it should.

I remember crying on my motorbike, listening to Tere's Tak Ingin Usai. All I could hear is myself crying and my mind kept shouting, "EMOH. POKOKE AKU EMOH." I never refused anything that bad before. But I was too scared to beg. I was too scared to keep knocking on your door. I know you hated it.

So I ran and hid. It takes so much to pretend like I don't, while I always do. I don't know how you do it. I bet you don't feel it at all.

It was nearly a year ago we began seeing each other again.