Whining

I never became so easily distracted that I forgot my presence in order to satisfy others, I sacrificed myself so bad to be exposed by the demands of the crowds I did not really like. I cheered their vagueness and ignorance in a hope to feel accepted and celebrated as a part of the group. When it’s all over, I came home and loathed myself for the facts that I unconsciously adopted their figures into a small chunk of myself. I am a filthy sponge.

I became moody and unenthusiastic to contemplate my life, I skipped my solitary and sacred reading and writing time. It is weird because I used to be fond of them many years before adulthood coming. Now, I barely finished my works or personal projects because the tiredness of being the unwanted version of myself consumed me to the bones. I avoided any chance that put me closer to risks, yet I never felt safe and stable.  Later, all I wanted to do is meeting my good friends – not through the telephone or computer screen, I demanded their presence: their voices, how fast their eyes blinked, wrinkles on their cheeks and nose when they were laughing, the gestures they made to express compassion, their particular choice of words in my mother tongue, their infused British accents, the love and sincerity they had for me, the sense of belonging we created – things that I craved.

Alas, on these days, good friends turned so hard to reach. They are busy growing up which is normal. It created new identity for me: anti-normal. I left myself wandering on my childhood and high school memories for the rawness and freedom that I had, and quickly made a comparison about relationships with my closest people back then and now. Some of them died, others just busy with life, and the rest, I don’t know. Suddenly I examined the word “close”, should it be measured by the distance, blood ties, the shared ideologies and values, the similarities, what? The word close felt not fit in with its original intention any longer.

I took a deep breathe, all changed.

Did I change too?

The last time my good friends and I talked, inevitable frictions sparked; the differences of our views toward dogma, approach of life and humanity widen the gaps between us, we are badly compartmentalized by them. Then, I stopped praying, yet so much questions emerged unanswered – but I know the answers are no longer relied in religion. Or God? And, yes, everyone’s changed.

At the end of the day, I always chose to sleep over the problems and repeated the same days I despised. I curled up inside the blanket, like a giant fetus embracing its frailness and naivety. Far, far away. Escaping from a reality, just for a moment.

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About Adisty Anissa Rizanty

Latihan menulis.
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