April 29, 2013

It's Supposed To Be Ours

I will write it like nobody will read it. It is like a space nobody can see, but you can feel. The words whisper your heart, through your redemption of your pledge. I will never ask you question. Not for the tears and laughter of ours. Maybe it is just me and my egoistic life idealism.

You can always leave. It means you can always come because the door is always open. You can always stand in between too, like fall silent in the border line of outter or inner. You can always do what you want to do. 

And i can always see how glued i can be.

Have you ever seen your own self? You don't have to ask me. Don't ask me question, and i shall tell you no lies. For the smiling mask i used to wear, i want my true skin to touch the wind now. It is merely like i want people to give me a bit attention. Call me an attention whore if you heartless. 

I am just helpless.

I can stand for the pain any longer time. I can easily give up to the things that have no certainty to happen. It is just me and all of my sides. I have no authorization to blame on others. That is why, why i tend to be asocial. Like a flake of the rain, she falls down alone, she melts and absorbed to the earth, alone. I can't be that mean. I am not anybody's meant to be. This is what i think.

They say i am into dramatic. Quickly go upstairs just to catch a sunrise, or silently await the sun to set at 6 o'clock on the third floor. I said it is a normal me. I said me is that different. I said maybe this was the normal of the world, and they who said and judged me are just abnormal. But i like it when people say, "gila kamu, Nda!
It was like those words are supposed to be a praise to me. Because i tend to like what people used to ignore. I like to see the water, the deeper of the waving surface of the water in a tub. I like how my hands can easily disturb and crush its calmness. I like how i can feel the different coolness level between water and air, and a slight skin that hang in between...

...and i can easily being pissed off too.

Is it a normal me? Sometimes i think i am a bipolar disorder person. But then i think it's okay, i still can count how the number of when i got angry to others. It was not that substantial. 

But the tear is uncountable. And i still think that it is the normal me. But i am still clueless about who i am. What i deserve, what i want, what i would have, how far i can go, how long i would live.

So, it is supposed to be my story, not ours. Look how suck my mind from being distracted and ego-centric! This is supposed to be ours. But it ends up with only me.
Are you okay?
Because... i am... no don't ask me.
I shall tell you no lies.

*inspired by @ftkf

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