Diary Seorang Womanizer (PK) - On Going

Side Story - Sebuah Pengungkapan Diri

Ini hanya masalah waktu untuk mengetahui bahwa masalah saya terpecahkan. Saya yakin disana tidak ada suatu kebetulan ketika saya mengatakannya melalui salah seorang teman saya di sebuah kafe.

Bodo amat dengan suatu kebetulan, bagi saya, semuanya kita yang mengatur dalam hidup kita. Dalam banyak hal, seperti saat saya mencari sebuah kesempatan atau pengalaman baru. Tentu saja, ini menyita waktu saya untuk mengaplikasikannya, untuk mencobanya.

Bagi saya, tidak ada suatu agama yang tidak dapat menciptakan kebahagiaan dalam hidup manusia, dan tidak ada kebahagiaan yang berumur panjang dan bertahan selama lamanya. Ini tergantung situasi sebetulnya.

I remember the day I built Jethro, he was drained, he was stolen by shame and indeed—he is dying. His last breath is only hope, the one that human hail for nothing without even putting an effort into it.

Hope, is a dangerous thing, you must strive along and pass the hell to saw your future. Indeed, hope, is a great thing, a dangerous thing we seek for a change, a better life ahead of us.

But some things are only achieved by silence, through silence and with silence—and it is as good as it gets.

That's the theme for this night. Once, I have Bap with me surrounding my life, he was a great man, of all mediocrity. He appreciate, he respect, listen, and stand unto my dream.

He is nevertheless, the one I'd never dumped for. Every single day of my life, I sit, only to listen his lower pitch voice—the advice, the good part of it. Babap has a smooth character, he is no man of enemy to fight for, and instead, his enemies honor him.

How can I don't love my Bap? How can I don't follow him? How can I become the gladiator of him? The fact is that I love every part of Babap in my life, I love his counsel, he even took me for some simple things to go in life.

I never dare—refusing his advice, because I see the point within. It is to benefit myself. I remarkably remember the last conversation with Babap at his home in Setra Duta, Bandung.

"Bap, bisa minta waktunya?" kata saya di senja hari itu.

"Ya de.. boleh." jawabnya santai, sambil menyeruput kopi dan membaca bukunya.

"Bap, dari semua pelajaran yang Babap ajarin buat Maddie, pelajaran apa yang Babap fikir paling sulit untuk Maddie kuasain?" tanya saya kemudian.

"Ada de, cuma ada satu pelajaran yang Babap ingin itu menjadi perhatian utama ade, pelajaran itu Babap selalu sebut sebagai the game of life."

"The game of life Bap, which one?" tanya saya lagi, penasaran banget rasanya.

"Semuanya, de." jawab beliau.

"Ah... ade sudah ngerti itu Bap?"

"Ade belum ngerti itu." elaknya sopan.

"Kapan ade bakal ngerti Bap?" paksa saya kebingungan.

"Nanti, kalau Babap sudah tidak bisa bareng ade lagi."

And yet today—his prophecies are true. That i better live my life with him—trade what's mine now, to take another chance of seeing his smile again. Only to see Babap again, no other needs.

Surreal is nonchalance, it's bizarre is killing me softly, and strike the pain behind my back. Solitude, indeed, it's been a long time for my own solitude.

Mostly I do everything by myself—I am taking for granted; Me, too, expect the benefits between. Now it feels useless. Sometimes, while beating my black am-ex card, I grumble myself, realizing the difference in this day that I live no longer without my parents, from one day onto another day, those differences are getting sibilant—as a stagnating resonances, the ripple emerged from within—it haunts my mind gradually.

The pain appears—demanding for some answers, a question marked below requesting a person attendance. It is true, the proverb says so—that; a man needs is only the other man needs... and those reveries from Claude Debussy Is the only thing that clinging in my ears, in my head.

Less I can say, less I can show, and the less I become.

Bangs@t. Kenapa seorang penyendiri sekarang bisa merasa begitu sendiri. Musik Debussy ini sama sekali tidak membantu, sama sekali, tetapi disana saya terdiam berfikir. Perhaps, I need someone in my life.

. . . .

"Gimana kamu belakangan ini Diy? Gimana di studio, kapan terakhir kamu happy hour? udah berapa tahun ya kamu sekarang jadi orphan—hahaha, nggak kerasa ya kamu udah gede lagi," kata mang Keiton, paman saya. Kalo dipikir pikir kenapa namanya nggak saya samarin jadi syaiton aja, ha-ha-ha-ha.

"Ahah, mang itung aja sendiri. Saya belakangan ini lagi agak gelap nih, saya lama nggak ikut sab..."

"Pantes aja kamu gelap, jajan aja enggak, bahaha.. payah kamu mah," ejeknya ringan.

"at... Sialan ya.. mulai si mang..." jawab saya heran.

"Ya mang mah cuma nawarin solusi hormonal—ikut atuh, kemarin kan mang baru ngadain pesta—mang kontak² nomermu, no answer, sibuk nya udah kayak presiden aja... ngapain kamu sabat? kamu kan ateis Diy, bahahahaha." tawanya puas.

"Ha-haha, si mang mah bisa wae, next time atuh ya," jawab saya menyerahkan ajakan paman saya ini ke lain kesempatan.

"Bahh, oke. Eh, cerita cerita atuh... mumpung mang lagi off nugas nih," pintanya lagi di suatu malam dalam hidup kami.