I remember the song you gave me.
Once it opened a door.
We stepped through, and the room knew our names.
Now it is only a song,
stripped of its key.
I live at a distance.
Not just from people. From places, plans, and the version of me that was scheduled to arrive. Long-distance isn’t only romance; it’s a survival setting. It teaches you how to watch your life from across the room and call it efficient.
I said it was fine. Manageable. Time zones, lagging calls, tenderness compressed into calendar blocks. Then the delay moved inside. Days turned into buffering screens. I couldn’t carry the distance and carry myself.
I failed. Publicly. Privately. Repeatedly.
In love, in friendship, at work—and worst of all, in the small room where I’m supposed to be myself. The math of pain is simple: if this continues, I won’t.
So I stepped out. Not bravely. Consistently.
I left a comfort that didn’t fit. Learned new work. Reframed the data: sometimes failure is an accurate measurement, not a verdict. If I can’t hold a thing, maybe the thing is heavy. I’m allowed to set it down.
Loving myself is the most technical problem I’ve met. My default is post-mortems and blaming the closest variable: me. Respect, it turns out, is a practice, not a mood. I’m practicing.
It’s been a year in Jakarta. Change didn’t parade in; it arrived like good weather—noticeable only when you stop bracing for rain.
I found a small circle that behaves like family. Someone cares for me—quietly, daily. My life is still mine, just no longer solitary.
When the pandemic came, the world sat still. Everyone heard how loud a head can get. We were distant together. It was hard. I felt less alone.
People invented new hope. I reopened old problems. I’m not ashamed of that. It’s just true.
I read. I dissect. I reset. I turned goals into coordinates and walked to them.
I made myself legible to myself—an open file with a few redactions. Then a very ordinary miracle: I felt alive. No thunderclap. Just breath that didn’t argue.
One day, when the world finishes its slow repair, we’ll call it living again. I won’t wait for the label. I’m returning to myself now.
Incrementally. Imperfectly. Accurately.
If I’m the hardest opponent I’ll face, I can still be the fairest referee. I’ll let myself fail where failure teaches and rest where rest repairs. I’ll practice closeness the way I mastered distance: with patience, structure, and a promise to remain.
Today I am near enough to hear my own voice. It’s quiet.
It’s mine.
I’m keeping it.
I want to stay.
Not for forever.
Just long enough to hear your voice again.
It’s the only sound that doesn’t ask me to perform.
If there’s one thing I know how to do,
it’s remain quietly, inconveniently,
in the corner of your life that still remembers me.
Don’t change your mind about me yet.
I’m still learning how to be someone worth keeping.
The moon keeps reporting back to me.
Says you still look dazzling.
I believe her.
Let me rest where your pulse steadies the room.
You can call it sleep.
I’ll call it proof that I existed correctly,
for a moment.
And when I’m gone,
let me stay where dreams gather dust.
Keep a small space for me there.
Not out of love, just recognition.
Don’t erase me.
Remember the laugh that escaped by accident,
the look that forgot to be logical.
I’m not afraid of distance.
I’ve lived there.
What I fear is vanishing so cleanly
that even silence stops recognizing me.
It’s hard to be known.
I gave them memories.
Neat, labeled, and temporary.
When their expiration came,
they left quietly,
as if I had imagined them.
Mother kept leaving her son.
Not cruelly, just with that polite kind of sorrow
that teaches you how to disappear
without asking to be found.
You are nocuous.
You don’t even need a mouth for it.
People still echo you,
still build altars to the way you stand still,
and call it virtue.
Flowers follow instructions.
They open on schedule.
Keep their noise small.
Pretty is just light flattering a body that learned how to hold still.
Shh.
Wrong switch.
Try the other hush.
Teach the stem to forget noon.
Praise the absence like virtue.
They’ll call it grace and mean obedience.
Hi Hi
Ini bakal jadi pertama kalinya ditahun ini aku bakal review sesuatu mengenai barang yg aku beli (DENGAN BAHASA INDONESIA!!!)
Jadi disaat pandemi ini rasanya tangan ini gatel banget buat membeli banyak barang, and I was spending TOO MUCH money this year *nangis*
Last month aku baru saja membeli cukup banyak Barang dari Joyseus, belinya disini dan I bought a lot
Hopefully, this review Dapat membuat kalian terbantu, let's try
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