missstill

I have been aware lately that life is a drama series. Well, similar with Achmad Albar’s “Dunia Ini Panggung Sandiwara” phrase. Tapi ini hidup, bukan dunia. Dunia cuma tempat, hidup itu manusianya.

Dulu, waktu saya masih di dunia sinetron, walau bukan jadi artis, sayangnya [atau untungnya], saya kira saya jadi bagian pembohongan publik, pembodohan publik. Ngga bantuin bangsa ini jadi pintar, dalam berbahasa, berekspresi, atau menerima penilaian. Tapi mungkin mereka tidak pernah membohongi. Justru mungkin mereka jadi manusia paling ngga munafik karena mengakui adanya hidup yang demikian. Yang mereka angkat jadi sinetron, dan menyebutnya ‘serpihan kisah manusia’. Orang-orang di sekitar saya lagi ngejalanin drama kehidupannya, yang saya rasa bakal hit berat kalau dijadiin sinetron (and to tell you the truth, I can see it goes stripping every day, prime time for at least 2 consecutive years).

I opened an email I sent to myself with regards of my days when I was in those eras. I thought I was in my own drama. Within it I would be this independent protagonist girl, ordinary as always, circled with friends, waiting for a promise not quite said, yet knew it’s a prophecy of her own life.

A trip other people’s life brought me back to the covenant I kept for myself. A separation of feelings out of force, not will. Despite my will to stay put no matter what, this prophecy fulfilling itself scares the heck out of me.

The separation that others felt make me somehow feel: glad, miss, and awkwardly knew why I fell in love in the first place. In love and not out of it.

Oddly (some say sadly, but who cares) that’s how I wake up each sunrise. That I’m doing this in love of the prophecy, of the people, of the words, of the bearing, of the wearing out, of the tears, of the subconscious torture, and of so many darn things..

To bear what is yet to come..