My knowledge is being held hostage

A crippling realization I had today.
I seem to have lost all memories of everything I learnt in my academic years.
Yes.
The basic history I conquered in middle school,
the countless theories I force-fed my self during years of university. Gone.
They were nowhere to be found.
I rummaged through every single drawer in my mind, yet still, I found nothing.
Every now and again some tiny pieces of information would pop up,
like Freud’s Oedipus Complex theory,
or sometimes they pop in by the names Jean Baudrillard or Marshall McLuhan and, more often than others, Carl Gustav Jung.
But don’t even think about asking me what I learnt about their theories because all I’ll be able to do is show you empty drawers.

Defeated. That’s all I feel.
At the time where my greed towards knowledge is at its very peak, the ones I’ve curated for years abruptly faded from my mind.
How come none of those theories stuck with me? it doesn’t make any sense.

“Fuck,” I thought, how could this happen?

Repressed memories. Mental block. I guess that’s a real thing.
My brain, my mind, my psyche has somehow think that certain timelines in my life are too painful to keep above the surface, to have them floating in my small and crowded consciousness…

So it decided to push them under, down to the subconscious where I wouldn’t be able to see them or feel them. They can still send signals of their presence. Letting me know, once in a while, that they are still around and that they can pop back up one of these days.
The fact that I cannot even easily recall what those memories are, is haunting. What was so painful that my mind is trying to protect me from it? and can I endure it again once the memories come back up?

These memories also happen to include all the academic information I have poured by blood, sweat and tears for, not to mention a load of money that I will forever be indebted for.

They were pushed down into my subconscious along with whatever memory my mind is protecting me from.


unfinished

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In the dark

This world
it breaks people.
I’m beginning to believe that it is, in fact, its sole purpose.

The longer we stay in it, the more ruthless it becomes.
Lucky are those who were taken out first
or made the decision to go first.

Go where, you ask?
I’m in the dark, just like you are.

Maybe this world is meant to break us
like we do with glow sticks
and then maybe after a few hard cracks on our bones,
we will finally glow.

Where do we glow, you ask?
I’m in the dark, just like you are.

Maybe,
just maybe, we will be given the opportunity
to glow right where we were beaten up
just enough to show this world
that those cracks and slams did us nothing but good.

But then again,
maybe this world
is meant to break us

and maybe
just maybe,
we are not meant to glow
at all.

daydreams and nightmares: You.

A time once lived faithfully
vivid and full of energy
passionate and untamed,
slowly fades away
sliding into somebody’s unidentified history.
Now just a part of forgotten memories.

Lived it then, have faith that it will continue still.

Like a recurring dream, an out of body experience.
As fragrant as it first transpired,
utopia.

The air grew bleak
the atmosphere went somber –
It came back.
An unforgiving nightmare this time
the kind that could kill in the sheets.

They could say a million and one right things
then turn around and do the exact same thing next door.
Just decide.
Let go of feelings entirely, all of em.
Say fuck it and step out the damn door.

A hide out in a concrete jungle

When I lived in Cardiff, I used to love to go to cafes that are located inside of shops. There were a few in particular, like the coffee shop above Waterstones book shop in the city center, or the Starbucks located on the second floor of Next and the house coffee shop on the second floor in Marks and Spencer.
There is also the coffee shop inside of John Lewis, near the Cardiff city library.

I have always loved finding my own peace and quite in the middle of hustle and bustle. To read a good book, doing work or simply just browsing on my computer, sometimes even with a friend or two. I have always enjoyed the atmosphere in those cafes.

They are usually quite spacious and they tend to get busy during the weekends or public holidays, but on the week days, I would be able to choose the best seat in the house.

Most of them also have big glass windows overlooking the busy streets of the city center, which amps up the cozy atmosphere.

Now, why am I writing all of this down? Not sure, if I’m being honest.
But I have found that writing does not only let me express my emotions, but it somehow lets me relive the feeling of being in those cafes. Just a simple warm, cozy and safe feeling. Nothing too deep, but just simply… content.

25. in cursive

I can’t be sure, whether I’m being selfish or just simply foolish.
There seem to always be a thick, blurred line between the rights and the wrongs
between the do’s and the don’ts
between the yes’ and the nos.
I’m used to being told what to do,
so what I’m told is right became my reality.
Have I lost the ability to differentiate?
Have I missed out on the window of being a well functioning adult?
My daydreams are what people think normal life is like
I live and breathe in my own nightmare.

“Welcome to 25, darling,” he whispered and rolled out of bed and picked up the phone. His side is cold still, and I lit up my last cigarette.

 

Surat untuk Jakarta

Izinkan aku memulai dengan berkata, bahwa aku tak membencimu, Jakarta.
Biarkan aku runtuhkan egoku sejenak dan tumpahkan semua rasa padamu, sang Ibukota.

Jujur, hingga saat ini, aku tak dapat pahami sepenuhnya, mengapa kami sebut kau kejam dan tanpa belas kasihan.
Kami jadikan kau kambing hitam dari rumitnya kehidupan.
Kau hanya berdiri tenang, sembari melihat kami berebut, saling dorong, untuk mendapatkan tempat yang layak di dalam peliknya tatananmu.

Kadang isi perutmu lebih riuh dari isi kepalaku, dan di saat itu, aku memilih untuk tak menatapmu.
Tak jarang kudapati diriku mengutuk dan mencacimu atas semua ketidakpuasan.
Atas semua permasalahan dan kepenatan yang muncul dalam rotasi kehidupan.
Tak jarang aku berjanji, suatu hari nanti, akan kutinggalkan Jakarta selamanya, dan tak akan pernah lagi aku injakkan kedua kaki ini di tanah tandus yang kini berupa pijakan aspal dan beton.

Saat tiba waktunya sang senja menyapa, garis cakrawalamu mulai biaskan warna jingga keemasan. Seketika aku terlupa akan segala kebencian yang kusimpan terhadapmu.

Semakin larut, semakin menipis kabut itu.
Temaram cahaya matahari mulai terbenam perlahan tergantikan oleh titik-titik kecil penerangan buatan, dan ketika jam dinding menunjukkan pukul 12 malam, kau terasa begitu tenang.

unfinished