Here I am again.
Behind the invisible wall I’ve built to protect myself from disturbance.

My mind goes chaotic.
This morning started out with a series of unfortunate events, plus a series of too-persistent phone calls from several disturbing people. To make it worse, it’s Monday. It’s raining heavily outside, and the sky is dark grey. The fact that bitchy people ruin my day in such a perfect weather feels like a betrayal.

Luckily, I have my earphone with me, so I can plug it into my laptop and listening to my lovely Reamonn. With maximum volume, that is. This is the sort of therapy I cherish …

The first time I heard about this Deutsche rock band was from a CD review written by Indra Herlambang in Free! Magazine. I don’t remember the exact words he used in his review, but it was something like this:
“Have you ever woke up in the morning with the feeling of missing someone so badly, yet you don’t know for sure who that someone is? That’s exactly how I feel when I’m listening to this record, Reamonn’s Beautiful Sky …”

I fell in love with his review in an instant, simply because I did know that kind of feeling. That feeling was too familiar back then.

Since I read the review, my life turned into a neverending Reamonn-hunt. I went to different music stores in Jakarta, looking for their CDs, or casettes, anything. I wasn’t lucky, though. No music stores seemed to show any traces of Reamonn, and the shopkeepers responded to my question about Reamonn with empty look upon their faces.

Finally, after 2 months searching, I found the record in a music store in my hometown. The one and only Reamonn CD on the shelf. I bought it immediately, and fell in love with it since then.

The first part is an intro, very solemn, very hypnotic, and as they played the opening melody of Beautiful Sky, I was being rolled over by past memories of mine. All those pictures in my mind seemed distant. It was as if I was watching a movie, a movie about someone else’s lives. Not mine. And I was merely an outsider.

I was speechless, pinned to my seat, reluctant to let go my earphone. From the darkest songs, until those very summer-like songs, the music bewitched me. This was the very first time I fell in love with a band I’ve never seen—I had no idea about their performance, the personnels, the history of the band … I didn’t really think that I wanted to know, either. It wasn’t important. I was too attached to the music—and that was all I need to know.

I have never tried to figure out if they will release another record or not—or whether they already have another records out there. I believe that if there were or if there will be other Reamonn’s records out there, it will come to me eventually, as magical as the first time, and I just don’t want to ruin the magical feeling I have over this particular rock band.

***

Rainy Saturday evening, in early December 2006.

I flipped my wet umbrella and inserted it into my postman bag. I went inside the music store just because I felt like it. I wasn’t planning to buy anything, and I wasn’t looking for any particular CD, either. I was only looking for a shelter from the heavy rain.

I’m not in a hurry, so I ran my fingers through the shelves, patiently examining the CDs on display, alphabeticaly. I read the names of all those bands I’ve never heard of, admiring beautiful CD covers, with different styles, different colors, different themes … Lovely. I find peace in places like this.

As my fingers moved slowly, for a reason I couldn’t explain, I felt a bit nervous. And it was as if the temperature was getting colder. I knew that something was going to happen. And I was right. Right there in front of me, was a beautiful CD cover: pitch black with a white bird wing and golden little flowers on the left side. I fished it out from the shelves, and my heart jumped a little when I read the name of the band: Reamonn. What?!! It can’t be!!!

Their new album entitled Wish. The cover was as beautiful as the first one, and the songs are even more amazing. It seems like their songs grow with me, the songs reflect the way I see my life these days. The fact that I want to live myself to the fullest, the fact they I have let him go. The bass, the snare, the drum, the vocal … they lifted me up even higher and brought some tears into my eyes. And the song L.A. Skies is just perfect 🙂

FYI, after I found the new Reamonn record, I fell in love with a CD cover from this band Train, entitled For Me, It’s You.

The cover is beautiful, a bit dream-like, and looks somehow innocent yet dark at the same time. I’ve never heard of Train, but decided to try my luck and bought the CD.

I played the record that night, after listening to Reamonn’s Wish. Train is super! Beautiful. Lovely.

I think sometimes you just have to follow your instinct and listen to your heart, probably then your true destiny will find its way to reach you.

hanny
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Probably it started out that day, when we had a small reunion on Friday night to celebrate a friend’s birthday. No, actually, we forced the birthday boy to treat us dinner 🙂

So, there we were, laughing like hell in a small Japanese food-stall along Pajajaran street. It was like going back to those days when we were still in highschool. We surprised Rey, the lucky birthday boy, with a blueberry cake with 5 candles on top of it. (Sorry, we only got 5 candles for free ;p)

The blueberry cake was yummy, as well as the food … and the laughter we had was more than satisfying.

I couldn’t remember the last time I laughed this way; laughing until my stomach hurts like hell, my throat is getting sore, and my eyes get teary. There were six of us: me, the birthday boy, my lovely brother, the tulalit CEO, the Dusaspun guy, and my orange sister.

We laughed out loud the whole night, like the world was ours. Like nobody else were eating at that small Japanese food-stall. Like they weren’t bothered by the loud noise we created. We just didn’t care. At that time, we are the world.

So this is how it feels to be free…

I came home that night with this beautiful feeling lingering inside of me. I guessed I was tired of being sad. Tired of being this melancholic brat who whined about her love life all the time. Tired of waiting in uncertainty. Tired of spending my life this way. On top of that, I’m tired of loving someone so selfishly …

Crossed my mind then, that it must have been a burden for him to be loved this way, to be loved with lots of sadness, anger, and disappointment.

I blamed him for the condition I was in, but I have never admitted the fact that I was the one who drawn myself into this condition. I have chosen to put myself in this unlikely situation (and I was kind of enjoying the pain it caused–does it mean that I have a tendency of being a masochist?!!)–and it wasn’t fair that I cursed him for all my sufferings.

To be bold, it was all my fault.
I should be held responsible for all the ‘misfortune’ that have happened in my life, and he’s got nothing to do with it.

Now I know where did the ‘guilty feeling’ came from. It wasn’t from the regret for not being able to tell him my true feelings, but it was creeping from this unconscious mind of mine, telling me that I was wrong for I have loving him so selfishly.

That my love hurts him in many ways I can’t comprehend. That the negative energy did struck him in one and other way, and have made him unhappy.

Darling, for this late consciousness, I owe you an apology.
I am really sorry.

I will always pray for you: that you will live a happy life, be blessed with lots of love, and have such a wonderful relationships along the way … and I hope you’ll remember this:

Yes, I do have beautiful old memories about you,
and I cherish those memories with all my heart,
and that you will always have a friend in me.

This I promise you 🙂

IMG. http://www.glarkware.com/media/product_main_u_sorry.jpg
IMG. http://www.glarkware.com/media/product_main_g_sorry.jpg

hanny
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Hello to a lovely new beginning!!!

Finally, no more ‘it’s-complicated’ thing on my friendster profile, nor in my heart. I am now simply single, and … happy, and proud of being one 🙂 And yes, my heart does feel a little (no, a lot!) lighter.

I’m free to fly! Are you? 🙂

hanny
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This is getting worse.

I thought I am going to be OK since the fever had reduced a bit, but I was totally wrong. The flu and the cough stays up to now.

So many things to do–so many problems to solve; which feels terribly uncomforting at the moment.

I want to go home. Snuggling in my bed, surrounded by those little pillows. Armed with a glass of water, anti-flu tablets, lots of tissues, and Kafka on The Shore. Oh, my blanket … I just want to sleep a dreamless sleep;
and wake up in the morning, with this light feeling over my heart.

The feeling of knowing that I can live my life to the fullest and don’t have to worry about one single thing.

With this watery eyes and nose, I wish.

 

IMG. http://pictures.escapia.com/Breen/2022927524.jpg

hanny
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I dreamt about him (again) last night. As always, it wasn’t a nice dream after all.

In my dream, I was sleeping inside a friend’s car, and when I woke up, he was already sitting at the front seat. He didn’t drive, and there was no one else around, but the car was moving. We didn’t talk. Every once and a while, we looked at each other and smiled, then threw our glance to the window, as if the road out there was the greatest thing on earth to be seen.

I woke up to emptiness–and realized that my handphone alarm was beeping frantically.


The office was still empty when I arrived; a perfect chance for me to take a quick look on his friendster account. I moved the cursor below; and suddenly felt the urge to click the ‘delete’ option under my testimonial for him. It was irritating to see those words I used back then. I felt cheap, though he deserves those fancy words. However, deleting that testimonial will be way too obvious …

During lunch time, I found myself in Kinokuniya bookstore at Plaza Senayan. Being in a bookstore always makes me feel a bit better–especially when I came out with books I have craving for. Today, the dark blue plastic bag was filled with Vernon God Little by DBC Pierre and Haruki Murakami’s Birthday Stories.

I walked out from the bookstore with a huge smile; and a strange kind of warmth wrapped my heart–it was like you were cocooning under a comfortable quilt. I felt like celebrating …


Finally, I could feel some level of cheapness about my feelings over him! It’s not sadness. Not a sense of regret. Not anger. But cheapness! It’s just great! I think I have made some progress …
____________________________

IMG 1. http://www.citydisc.ch/pix/art/bookshop_2/CHSBZCOP/01/1872/CHSBZCOP011872074.jpg
IMG 2. http://www.boekwurm.co.za/pix-boeke/vernon_god_little.jpg

hanny
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It was another Sunday afternoon I spent inside my bedroom; snuggled with more than 53 pages of Marianne’s postings in her wonderful blog: Confessions of A Girl Gone Mad.

I have printed out her previous postings one night, and fastened those pages with a black huge paper clip. I did it in purpose. Since then, in my lowest days, I can always count on Marianne’s postings to make me feel a bit better. Her writings tingle me with this warm feeling of knowing that I’m not alone in this fuss.

I have finished swallowing 10 pages or so before I went to the kitchen and made myself a cup of ‘Chocofee Special’—a mixture of instant coffee (no sugar added) and pasteurized chocolate milk in a huge mug. What a perfect potion, combining caffeine and aphrodisiac in one lousy Sunday afternoon.

The potion must have been strong enough for it have poisoned my brain, and made me do some things I didn’t want to do at the first place. The next move was a big no-no. But I did it. I jumped into that ‘hell-hole’ once again.

In a minute or so, I have grabbed my diary—and flipped the pages until I spotted that sacred date: when you were here. When we met. When it ended.

It was like a burning fire, the sensation that stings my very eyes. I won’t cry. I knew it for sure. It’s like a very sad movie you’ve watched for a million times, and then the saddest part doesn’t bring a shed of tears into your eyes any longer. That you’ve remembered all the details by heart, and all the excruciating pains have become so familiar, and it left you feels nothing but a pang.

I have dreamt of that day, when we met again after we parted for years. Probably being far away from each other for some times could … or would … or should … I don’t know … made us closer?
Made us longing for each other’s presence even more?


But the truth is, nothing has ever happened the way we planned it to be.

There was no such thing as a private dinner; instead, we’re hanging out with a bunch of friends. My friends, your friends, those silly jokes, stupid conversations, awkward moments. Then we parted again after a most condensed 1-hour that I’ve ever experienced in my whole life.

That was so familiar. And I kept asking myself, am I going to repeat all those hellish routine every time we met?

When will I be able to restrain myself from loving you this way? I make plans, but I ruin it. I make promises, but I broke it. I make confessions, but then I deny it.

I closed my diary and wrote this hullabaloo as an effort to keep my sanity, while listening to this song “When You Know” by Shawn Colvin (the original soundtrack of Serendipity).

Instantly, the music and the lyric filled my mind with the ghost of you.

When you know that you know who you love, you can’t deny it. Or go back, or give up, or pretend that you don’t buy it. When it’s clear this time you’ve found the one, you’ll never let him go. Cause you know and you know that you know.

________________

IMG. http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3887/449/1600/blythe%20blue%20eyes.jpg
IMG. http://moblog.co.uk/blogs/1785/moblog_20054f7b35cc8.jpg

hanny
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I started to think that though I have been trying so damn hard to deny it, the fact remains the same: I love him as much as I hate him; the fact that these follies drive me mad and eat up my sanity bit by bit. And I wonder if I could ever call it a quit.

I thought I have managed to get over him and all those cheesy feelings. But when I found out that he had left a message in my mailbox a few days ago, my heart beat fast. Suddenly the room turned colder, as well as my palms, and it was hard to breathe. It took no more than a sec before I completely turned into an airhead.

I was overflowed with this stupid utopia that he must have dropped some meaningful lines for me, and that he would really “talk” to me through this email—remembering that it had been years since our last chit-chat.


But, of course, as usual, my heart sank when I clicked the subject of his mail and those lines appeared on my iBook’s screen. It was a meaningless sentence; a slight “thank you” in a very formal tone, indicating that the reason he dropped the line was merely an act of courtesy.

It made me want to scream and curse. (I didn’t cry, my tears were already accustomed to a certain level of pain he caused—and this shit was nothing compared to what have happened years ago)

My friends started to think that I was obsessed, which might be true. But you just can’t find a getaway from you feelings, can you? It’s in your head and it becomes a part of you and you just can’t ditch this feelings no matter how hard you try. Crossed my mind that probably I should give Ms. Kassandra a call and asked her if she could help me with a hypnotherapy of some sort. Probably that will work.

Oh, this is so shallow! I’m in really deep shit. I’m sick. And I can easily laugh at myself at this very moment! I am nothing more than a shallow-minded person who places to much hope on such silly stuffs.

As I started to think that I should have just ended it all, I realized that it was impossible: because nothing has ever begun after all.

IMG. http://www.irational.org/heath/stained_glass/bristol_st_werbughs_glass_graffiti01.jpg

hanny
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So here we are again.

In our one and only ‘cursing-session’: discussing about the same old crap over and over again. Laughing at those vivid images in our mind about how sweet revenge would be.

Crossed my mind, that these stupid conversation will make us feel better. That is so wrong. We always ends up feeling even worse.

It makes me look like Yoshimoto Nara’s artwork.

IMG. http://www-math.mit.edu/~jkeren/myself_files/hothousedoll.jpg

hanny
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I’m just being cynical, but …
there will come a day when you just have to face it all—whether you like it or not. Those past mistakes of yours, those sins awaiting to be redeemed, those regrets that had been haunting you for years…

One day, the hottest club can no longer be your asylum; the wildest party can no longer divert you from these irritating thoughts; even those glistening liquids can no longer ditch those guilty feelings that swarm under your skin.

Yes, you can always cut your wrist or swallow some pills if you’d like to. But this life will go on, with… or without you.

God, why don’t you give yourself a chance?
You deserve it as much as I do!

IMG. http://www.ehponline.org/docs/2005/113-4/pills.jpg

hanny
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Hanny illustrator
Hi. I'm HANNY
I am an Indonesian writer/artist/illustrator and stationery web shop owner (Cafe Analog) based in Amsterdam, the Netherlands. I love facilitating writing/creative workshops and retreats, especially when they are tied to self-exploration and self-expression. In Indonesian, 'beradadisini' means being here. So, here I am, documenting life—one word at a time.

hanny

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