For years, you have been wondering why some people try to tear apart and throw away their perfectly woven fates. Like they wanted their history to be filled with scratches and holes to make their lives more grave and thus justify their very existence.
Whereas you can only wish that you are as happy as they actually are.
For years, you have remained silent. Children say and do the cruelest of things, you know. That's because they know nothing about consequences.
You laugh and talk loudly of things, to sheath your unspeakable scars. You were so young. You were damaged. You were angry. You thought you were awash with your sins. You were ashamed.
You thought you were alone.
For years, your only safehaven was not even close to being 'safe'. You cried for help, but everyone in the fortress was in dire need for help as well. Instead of protecting you, they were readying you to face the outside world with the weapons, the tools, the tricks, the tactics. As if life was a battlefield. Truth is, even if you could defend yourself, you wouldn't. Everyday was a lost battle for you. But everyday you learned a thing or two. And you learned and learned until you knew too much, that most of the times, you were haunted by what you have learned.
Most of the times, you were scared.
For years, you have tried to fix things. At times you succeeded, most of the times you failed. It was never because you knew it was the right thing to do, nor because you knew you have the ability to do it, nor because you believe that you could do it. Most of the times, you hate to feel burdened when things don't work. You hate to feel responsible for it. But you have a very strong motive. And just like everything else in this letter because this letter is about you and nobody else, your motive is very simple, very selfish.
Everything that does not work properly gives you pain and you just want to ease your pain.
For years, people have been looking at you with contempt. So you turned your back on them and use them as a means to your end: fixing things according to your belief. And that was exactly how you see people. As tools. Or as part of your growing collection of interesting personalities.
So when people treated you differently, you became uneasy. That was why when people genuinely sorry for you, or love you, you just left them. Or they left you. Because it didn't feel right for you.
And when your life collided with others whose past are just as complicated as yours, whose present are as complex as yours, and whose future are as cryptic as yours, you were doubtful at first. Slowly, you started to see them not as tools, but as real human beings. Who live in the present. Profound, though imperfect, incomplete. Broken, but can be fixed. Their eyes glaring with passion, their asses bound to the couch. People without agenda, without bullshits to tell. People whose mere presence comforts you. People you simply love without wanting anything in return. People you somehow know. Friends, nothing less, perhaps more.
You failed. You have fallen. You forgot. You have been forgotten. You may never forgive. You may never shed your armors completely. Your wounds may never heal wholly.
You just wanted to let everyone whom you are courageous enough to call 'your friends' know:
That you will never deny whatever have befallen unto you in the past, and that you feel better each and every day, and that now you embrace whatever come to you, be it joy or sorrow, and that you are happy to have people like them to share whatever you see or hear or smell or touch, and that in their presence you are able to console yourself, and that you will go forth and make your mark in your short course of life, and that though in the near future your life and theirs will lead to different paths, different directions, you are forever thankful for them.
May you forever live in interesting times. I wish you the best of luck.
Malam mendekat, tetapi kita belum juga sampai di rumah dengan selamat. Sedikit cahaya yang tersisa pada waktu-waktu inilah yang bisa membimbing kita semua.
Double personality is so 2000. Mobil jemputan warna hijau telor asin Brebes yang hobinya kebut-kebutan di Kalimalang sambil menggeber Joy Division. Kretek, kopi, dan gorengan bersama Derrida di taman kota. Es krim rasa tape dan gulali rasa nangka. Situationist International. Risoles isi daging rusa asap. Lingkar samsara Sisifus. Tanda seru. Selamatkan seni dan desain dari diri mereka sendiri. Petir. Piknik antar peradaban. Fluxus yang tersumbat, gerak yang terhambat. Kembang api. Interupsi. Negasi. Saya percaya pada kekuatan dialog dan pendidikan menengah, inisiasi remaja menuju masyarakat. Narasi besar telah runtuh. Mari nyanyikan epik kita sendiri. Seorang teman berkata, yang bisa menggambarkan saya adalah sebuah wadah yang ke dalamnya terus menerus dilemparkan apa saja oleh siapa saja. Semoga wadah itu tak ada dasarnya, tak akan penuh ataupun tumpah isinya. Semoga wadah itu tetap ada, terus membendung keriuhan di dalamnya. Semoga keriuhan itu tak mereda, dan semoga semua manusia tak berhenti bertanya.
Aidil Akbar Latief
Aidil Akbar Latief