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Some questions feel like it judges you  Even the ones that don't have the right answer;  The ones that don't ask you to describe,  The ones that is so simple it even gives you choice  And yet it never make you safe enough about your voice  Some of it stripes you down to the core  Words and words, one after another  As if it rarely leaves you without asking more  Sometimes it feels like it's way too easy  But how exactly many times considered as sometimes  Is it once, twice, or is even my count the same amount as the other?  Answer with sometimes, and you can masked it with indefinite to feel safer  But after all, question is needed  To get to know, to dig deeper, to find what you're looking for  It might bare your soul, it might made you feel smaller;  The question is merely looking for answer,  But you are always be the only one who have the power Here's one reminder for you The never rarely, sometimes alwa...

She knew way too well About love, boys, and friends What she doesn't know was  That she can found it all in one form Slipped into someone least expected  When the time is far from right  And yet, she tried  He understands feelings  Towards things he cherish  A well spent time full of comfortable silence,  easy laughs, undisguised intention  And yet, he found something way bigger  Not until the end of something big when both of them realized that the only love & feeling they chase after has come in the form of each other  And then they fell, into a deserted well  Where everything they found made perfect sense  With a tall cup of iced coffee,  She uncovered her wounds, he bare himself to the bones  On a thousand arguments,  They walked hand in hand  He fell for the kindness, she melted because of the effort  Through a clear glass in sight, they can see that  Love is not only pretty  It also ...

Payahnya aku dalam menerka baris kata  Dan menyingkap tanda di balik tiap senyum manusia  Akan jadi akar dari tumbuhan kesendirian  yang entah mengapa repot-repot aku terus siram Mungkin saat itu kamu tepat berada di depan pintu  Melantun sendu yang kusambut dengan ragu  Berteman panasnya hari  dan bisikan jeda yang tak pernah tiba  Berdiri kita dalam guliran detik  hingga mati di kaki tak terusik Ada sesuatu yang tersingkap rasa  Namun terselabut dengan takut  Pergi aku berlindung dalam aman  Hanya untuk menemukanmu kini terduduk di dekat taman  Membias kecilnya tawa yang diikuti senyuman  Peluk untuk biruku; hangat untuk dinginnya kalbu Malam itu aku terbiasa kembali pulang ke luar  Menghabiskan sisa bulan bersama hadirmu yang kian menyaru  Kita merayakan kecukupan tanpa apa-apa  Dan menertawakan serpihan rasa yang kadang menyapa Sampai suatu waktu kulangkahkan kaki ingin menjumpa  Dan tidak kutemuka...

Yeah, I'm gonna bail out on writing this piece in bahasa, because to be honest, it feels harder to strip myself down using the language which hits way too close to home. I'm just gonna let the title be, though. As a talentless kid, I always wonder why don't I have any special skill like the other kids my age. I picked up my small orji and started to scramble my thoughts out on how talentless I am; how my mom never register me to any courses about arts, or anything other than school. I couldn't simply talk about these things to my friends because I might be outspoken about what's in my mind, but never what's in my heart. Writing it out instead made me feel safe — until I found out that my mother secretly read my diary but never acknowledge it anyway. Back to the topic, my writing started out about not having any talent at all and sometimes I'd write about my days, my feelings, and my dreams — yes, I have a thing with dreams since I was a little girl. Someho...

I might be the most stubborn hot-headed person you will ever met, I might have the most annoying laugh you will ever heard, I might never stopped talking until your ears blown off. Believe it or not, there is another person who is as stubborn as me with the similar taste of jokes and complex thoughts. But she is way smarter with words, that I always feel like my writing will never be good enough compared to hers. She complained about how rarely I show my affection towards our friendship through my writing or my random post on instagram. To say that I don't have enough good pictures with her is just a mere excuse because I can simply write my feelings out like I did for my other close friends. But when it comes to her, I never feel like my written word is ever enough. She is a much brilliant writer than I ever be, and most of the time I feel like my words didn't do justice to describe it; to describe how she can be infuriating with her anger & big fire towards injustice of t...

I long to belong somewhere Across this universe Where we could fit in together And then I decided to build one in my mind Some place covered with white walls and high windows; So that the warmth of sun could come And the breezy wind keep on knockin’ Not so big but enough to put in a large tv & long couch For us to sit in while watching; Gasping at serial killer documentaries, Crying at romantic movies, Staying up all night to binge the whole season of series A home full of your voice singing “And yes, I’m a mess but I’m blessed to be stuck with you,” While I laugh doing random dance at the stairs Our morning will be full of my rising anxiety Starting with my last night’s dream story and your hot cup of worry You’ll blow it out with your raspy voice And hug it tight to shut the noise We both know that we don’t need much from a companion Other than a person to share random jokes, stories, and nights full of endless conversation with In a crowded city we will be enough; Me with my pe...