Archived

......

He opens his eyes. Yet again he let out a huge sigh. Disappointed with the fact that he's still breathing & gasping for oxygen while the heart pumping blood throughout whole body keeping it warm. He stares a while at the blank bedroom ceiling and decide to repeat the 'closing-eyes-pretend-to-die' thing once again. Killing time with racing mind, probably just asking 'why' all over again about his existence until near dinner time when his mom would knock gently on his bedroom door, hoping he'll decide to join them for dinner. Sometimes it works, some other time, it doesn't. No one never knows what he'll think or decide to do.

Talking about human existence, it's something infinite, isn't it? The debates, theories, facts, assumptions, even conspiracies about it are just too many to be counted & remembered. So he just simply try to live the existence he never wished for. Most of the time blaming on how his parents decide to have him when they don't even know how to treat a child as human who has their own thinking, opinion, aspiration, and everything that's known as preference.
'But, what was the point of thinking about this all over again?', he snapped his own mind back to the dinner situation in front of him while glancing at his dad that busy keeping his mouth full, munching at the braised pork. No, he doesn't hate his dad, though. That slight-chubby looking man with mostly grey hair on his head tried his best to be a loving dad to him and still trying until now. He knew that & witnessed it. It's just lots of question popped-out in his mind and sadly he can't find a way to let them slipped through his lips, acknowledging the answers. He knew he doesn't have the courage to.

His dad takes a glance at him while gulping a glass of water, noticing his son decides to join them for dinner tonight. A series of childhood until his present-self montage of his son appears in his mind while softly staring at his 25 years old only son. Eating the braised pork with blank gaze, as if he's never been alive nor happy for the past 10 years while he deeply knows that it's his favorite meal ever since younger years. 'Where does that excitement & moment go?', he asked himself, still looking at him, wondering what he could do or what he's done wrong as his father.

The dinner is silent but not tense nor awkward. Not calming too. Everyone is sitting together while eating their own meal, without conversation and such. All you can hear is just spoon & plates gently clinking and water being swallowed. It's simply silent.

He finished his meal first & walk to the kitchen to clean his plates & spoon, then walks outside and sit by the porch alone. He reaches for a pack of cigarette in his pocket & start to light it, inhale everything deeply while closing his eyes, letting it blend altogether with everything in his mind. He held it for a while & exhale everything. 'It sure doesn't feel any lighter.', he thinks to himself.
The first stick has disappeared to thin air and he's reaching for the next one. No one knows tonight how many sticks he's planned to have, for sure it's never one. The sliding door behind him opened and show the silhouette of a grey-haired man. He already has the stick slightly lit up in between his lips, exhaling a thin smoke to the porch ceiling. Their eyes met and the gazes are plain. They're now sitting together.
He smokes another two puffs then realize the young man beside him finished with just one stick. He frowns his forehead knowing it's a strange view and outside of his usual habit before he realized an empty box beside the flatted out stick. He reaches inside the right side pocket on his shirt & hand the small box to him. The young man doesn't hesitate nor look to his eyes while accepting and lighting his second stick that night.

But somehow, the second stick does now feel a bit lighter & the night remains silent. Not awkward nor calming, but somehow there's a thin relief in the smoke they exhaled.