A Journal by Clara S

 Ada yang berbeda pada penghujan malam rabu, derasnya bagaikan suara tangisan pilu. Mungkin langit sedang menangisi saya dan anda, yang kini sudah tak lagi menjadi kita. Sebab walau ucapku hanya terpatri pada kata-kata hampa belaka, cintamu telah kaupahat dengan mantap pada setiap batu penjuru. Dan engkau berlaku seolah tak mau tahu, berjalan bahkan berlari, membabi buta, layaknya ingin mengenggam pasir gurun sahara, atau menampung lautan dalam mangkuk kaca. Hamba telah tunakrama dan adharma walau diam seribu kata, dan engkau hanya tertawa, berjalan dan berlalu dalam cedera.   Seandainya kapal ini terus kita paksakan maju Di tengah badai apakah ia masih tetap laju? Mengarung menerjang, namun perlahan binasa, Menggenang tenggelam lalu tiada.   Jogja, 22.02.21

Hanya bersua di layar cahaya tanpa pernah betul mengenal siapa dia, aku tak pernah tahu betul rupanya; hanya suara kepalanya yang tertuang dalam deretan huruf yang berjejer rapi. Jika aku boleh menebak seperti apa warna suaranya, aku berpikir itu bagaikan warna biru pastel. Aku tak pernah tahu apa hubungannya atau maksud dari itu, tapi entah mengapa, pikiranku berkata demikian. Aku pun tak pernah mengenal asal mula dirinya; hanya sepotong dua keping mengenai dirinya. Satu hal yang aku ketahui, adalah ia hidup di belahan dunia lain, dimana mataharinya baru sepenggalah tingginya ketika mentariku telah terik. Yang sangat aku ketahui pula, adalah betapa kagumnya aku sejak hari pertama aku mengenalnya. Berkenalan dengannya bukanlah hal yang istimewa, kami hanyalah orang asing bagi satu sama lain. Bagiku ia tampak seperti orang yang tak banyak berkata-kata. Ia juga bukanlah orang mudah kusukai dalam selayang pandang; ucapan ketusnya pada awal perkenalan kami sempat menyinggung egoku. “Angk...

Those old photos start to losing its colours Your picture and name on your favorite mug fades away because it has been washed too often now. Your favorite sweaters are being given away, your clothes are nowhere to be found. Those shoes also start to mold. And your cold bed is now so rusty and dusty. One by one people who remember your name and story will eventually die. Your trace in every place became nonexistant and indifferent. Your posessions become nothing but trash. Our chat on every social media become a memory, Which I read every time I miss us Human is no bigger than a stardust in the middle of the universe; Their life is so fragile like the fire on a candle. Just one blow and its light could be no more. Jogja, 09.01.2021

 She's not feeling okay and she don't know why tried to ask the sea and sky but they just run away and fly and for that, she'll cry yet her tears are dry no matter how hard she tries so then she endeavors to look happy  yet her laugh is wry And still, no one can identify, Sadness in her eye She better not defy that maybe she better die on the summer of July and no one shall comply Finally could she eventually cry Jogja, 05.01.2021

We talk, we speak and we feel that we can click but the bitter truth has kicked; it's not the only thing I seek I'm sorry cause I decided things too quick when I was happy and feel like on peak but then things turn out to be freak and it feels like I've played tricks all these things may make you sick cause I've made you feel like only a side gig from now on you can call me a prick and others may call me weak for I am giving up too quick Jogja, 05.01.2021

 Hey R, How are you doing right now? Wherever you are, I hope you are doing just fine. Dear R, many things had happened after you've gone. From nobody to somebody, enemies become friends, friends become strangers. Many people we never expected comes to my life and changes me. Some of them knew you so well, since you were close to each other. I don't know how things going on between you guys. I wouldn't care. Couldn't say new life is better. But it changes, for sure. It's neither bad nor good. I suppose it's a neutral change. Got a job after graduate. The thing I avoided the most become a source to gather some money for whatever-thing-I-should-face in the future. I miss studying. Things were lot simpler that way. I don't have to be responsible toward anybody. I don't owe them anything. You were right. Responsibility is hard to take and running away from it is a lot easier. Maybe that's why you ran away from me and didn't try to give me any sign. B...

Puan bertubuh kecil itu duduk di kursi bambu di teras rumahnya. Setiap hari kebayanya semakin terasa besar, sebab tubuhnya yang semakin rapuh. Matanya sayu. Kepalanya kini telah dipenuhi dengan uban. Kaki ringkihnya perlahan membawanya menuju kursi bambu yang selalu menemani hari-harinya yang kini sepi. Suaminya telah lama tiada; anak-anaknya entah kini ada dimana. Seorang gadis muda melewati teras rumah nenek itu hampir setiap hari; melewati jalan semen gersang yang semakin gompal. Istana kecil berhias aksara jawa itu menghadirkan rasa penasaran yang teramat dalam hati gadis, membuatnya sulit untuk mengabaikan keberadaan rumah di timur jalan nan kecil itu. Semua hal tentang rumah itu mungil adanya: pagar mungil, atap mungil, pekarangan mungil, teras mungil, kursi mungil, kamar mungil. Ia ragu akan adanya keberadaan peradaban dalam rumah itu. Tak pernah sekalipun ia mendengar suara radio atau televisi dari griya itu. Melewati rumah itu, seakan ada portal waktu yang melemparnya ke ma...