'1. Acquire your target, scout them for a while before you make your move.
2. Make your move, approach them blatantly and get to know them.
3. Talk to them every day, every night, or even every single time. You need to put your effort in this step.
4. Ask them about their day, about their work, about every ******* single thing that come up to your mind.
5. Open up to them. So that they can open up to you.
6. Open up more, about every childhood trauma, family-related stuff, about past relationships. Open up about your past.
7. Open up more, about your plans and what ifs, about promises, about your future that you might share with them.
8. Open up more, about yourself, about how you love to hug them, how you love to spend time with them, how you.... Need them.
9. Open up more, about your true feeling towards them, about how you love their smell, their voice, their glares. About how you love them.
10. Open up more. Until you have nothing to open up.
11. Don't open up, hide something from them, lie to them if necessary. Do your best to keep those lie believable. Deny those lie when they find out. Say no to every single question they ask.
12. Open up again, about the truth. About how you felt sorry for lying to them (if it's true).
13. Open up again, about how you don't want them to go.
14. Open up again, show your vulnerability by crying out loud to make them stay.
15. Open up again, open the door so that they can leave, with their heart broken.
And probably yours too.

Can people change? That's one of the hardest question I've stumbled upon.
I've seen so many people change throughout my life.
My parents, my family, my friends.
Everybody's changing.
But when i look into a mirror, i don't just see glass that reflects light.
I see such an unchanged math problem that we might known as constant.
I see, myself.

Being constant is not the same as being consistent.
It's not a wordplay that everyone could mix it up.
Those two not even homophones.
Being consistent is sometime a thing that we could be proud of.
And yet being constant is
an illness that I haven't find the cure of.

I'm not saying that it's uncurable.
What I'm saying is
I'm sick of it.
I'm sick of being an unchanged variable that doesn't know how to change.
I'm sick of being a constant that is easily scratch out in a derivative.
Who are scared of the slightest change that eliminates.
I'm sick of being a constant that is negligible during a definite integration.
Who are disposable when the such circumstances are known.

All I'm saying is,
I'm sick of being a constant.
And for now,
I want things to change.

Alright kids, let me tell you a bed time story.
This is a story about love.
About falling in love in first sight.
About how true it is.

Chapter 1.
The love of my brief life.

There was a girl. Her name reminds me of flower.
Every morning she blooms and radiate a good scent that boost my serotonin up.
Some part of me said, "i need to pick that flower"
And so i did.

Days after days, that flower become prettier.
I fell in love.

The more i know about her, the more i fall in love.
Her scent might be temporary, but the rotten things she keeps, they intrigued me.
So i studied about her.
The flower that blooms.
I studied her until it eventually wilted.

Chapter 2.
The rebound that last longer than i think it will.

This one is about a girl that her name sounds like sun.
She rises, give lights to dark edges of earth that might not want to get up.
She shines, give lives for those who needed her while exposing all the sad faces out.
She is warm.

But not for a long time.
Until clouds take her lights away from me.

She fell in love with the cloud.
While I, dropped in tears.
Crying about the dead flower.

Chapter 3.
The hope.

This one, is about goddess.
Giving me shade to hide from the sun and clouds.
Giving me something to lean on when i'm down.
Giving me hope.
That she can grow as many flowers i want.
Or as many suns i needed.

Just like actual goddess,
She give me strength.

Chapter 4.
The truth.

Kids, this one is about me.
This is about me ******* everythings up.
I might/might not ******* this one.
But let me tell you the truth, kids.

This is not a story about how i met your mother,
This is a story how every one of them is almost become your mother.
This is a story how i shouldn't end up alone while in fact i might.
This is a story about you guys, might not be exist.
This is a story about me, crying in my own funeral while burying myself and giving myself an eulogy.
This is a story about how i almost complete.
And yet, i might/might not ***** up right before the finish line.

So kids, if you ever exist, let me tell you something.
All of that stories are true loves.
But, you can't fake a true love, no matter how true it is.
You can't trust anyone just like you can't trust your heart.
In fact, you can't trust me either,
I'm the one who speaking with the non-existent.
Maybe i'm rumbling
Or God knows,
Maybe i'm talking to the future.

Does the term "perfect couple" really exist? Maybe one day you'll find someone who really understands you. Someone who knows you're crying even though
you aren't.
Someone you wish you had in your entire life.

Maybe two love birds that chirping in the morning are actually having a fight.
Or maybe mantis eats the male's head because she really love him.
And maybe we never see love that way.

Maybe having someone to count when you are vulnerable doesn't considered as love. Maybe wanting to having someone is not love at all. Maybe love is not like what we see in our parents marriage.
Or in a failed marriage.

Maybe crying at the middle of the night when you miss someone is not a cry for love. And maybe crying when you lost someone is not as well. Maybe the terms "love" shouldn't be exist. Or shouldn't be defined by human.

Maybe love is never about having, it's about letting go. Maybe love is never about keeping, it's about moving on. Maybe love is not about me being your partner, it's about me being your brother even though i know i'm not.

Maybe it never works the way we thought. Maybe when we hold onto something, it will hurts us.
Maybe love is never about a start, it's always about an end.
Maybe it's always about sacrifice, not your time nor mine.
But our hearts, or yours.

And maybe that's why they called it "falling in love".
Because it'll hurt us sooner or later.

That pattern
Occurs periodically.
Despite all the vern
I still hurt myself regularly.

Those ricocheting projectiles
Travel uncontrollably.
Hitting them who smiles
Wounding them miserably.

This is not a sanctuary
Not a place to survive.
This is a void, where no one can hear me.
Screaming, "Help! I'm eating myself alive."

Left to right got you.

Love is sometimes near.
As near as hugs yet still trying to get closer.

Love is sometimes special.
It's discovering new things and embrace them.

Love is sometimes warm.

But some other times,
Love is far.
Sometimes it's untouchable nor reachable.
But you won't feel the distance.

Love is basic.
Sometimes it's the same old things that happen continuously.
But you cherish it anyway.

Love is cold.
Sometimes it's much colder,
And yet you can feel her warmth.

Because,
Love is there.
Every single day.
Every single night.
Every second.
Every blink of an eye.

All the sparks and heat that i'm excited about,
All those adrenalins that rush,
All those fires i ignite,

For the sake of pleasure,
For mere instantaneous joy,
For a relief i never thought i seek.

I never meant to hurt anyone,
I never meant to burn anything precious,
I never want to

Yet, all those ignitions,
Are long overdue.
For once, i burned my home down.

Act I - Prologue

When things didn't end well
They often make my eyes swell
For all the time i borrow
It mostly ended in sorrow

Act II - Different

I think it's gonna be different
How on earth that I'm one of the constant
Things should change
Else I'm the one who's derange

Act III - Constant

I was wrong
Like that one song
That's already recorded
It's unchanged

Act IV - Epilogue

I was never good at farewell
So, do tell
Come closer and speak
About the kind of ending you seek

This room is somehow mine.
Though, i don't feel like where i belong.

This room, is empty. Just a single bed that doesn't remind me of anything.
I wish memory works as easy as opening up files from old computer. Most of the time, it doesn't.
It doesn't work when i needed them. But, it will probably work, it will probably work when we are about to shut our brain down.

This room, is so isolated. Things that are actually there, dispersed. Slowly vanished into thin air and left me with my own thoughts.
Things that are actually there, weren't even there at all. Not even the air i breathe. I slowly choked, by the so-called void. Because all the things that are supposed to be there, are not there at all. But in the next morning, they are there. Especially, the baggage i've been carrying around that sometimes drive me nuts. They were all there, right next to the photos i wish i never threw away.  

This room, is red. The blanket is red. This soft blanket that somehow won't recall any memories. Old sweater hanging in between new ones. Even a thing called memento doesn't work. It won't work, because memory never works that way.
Memory never works. You keep putting your favourite pair of socks in the place you sure you will notice and you will remember, you did put it there.

Yes, You did put it there so you don't have to waste your time finding it, you did put it there so you just wear it whenever you want or whenever you need to, you did put it there so you don't have to lose them, you did put it there because it's the 8th times you lost your favourite socks this month. Deep down, you are convinced, you did put it there. You did, because you pretty sure you'll need it.

But look at you now, marching around the room, barefoot, cluttering things out from its place, searching, thinking, remembering, contemplating, "Where the **** did i put it?!", Feel stupid, sometimes crying, trying so hard to stay sane, angry, subconsciously banging your head into the wall for no reason, keeping yourself away from sharp things because they might hurt you, reading old poems out loud so you don't have to read it twice, burying your face into the pillow, screaming, wiping out tears, falling asleep and waking up.
Realising that you will never find it.
Accepting that you lost it for good.

I don't know since when you chose to leave.
What i already know is that you never accept me anyway.
But there was time when you make me feel my presence.
Not just that, but also my existence.
That one beautiful moment for me who keep coming back to you.
Or maybe i never really come into your life.
But it's okay, life is full of confusion anyway.

There are so many words i'd like to say.
But i know you'll laugh at it all the way.
Because maybe you think i'm a joker and you're one of my masterpiece.
I don't know why god made it this way.
Like a beautiful rose that filled with thorns.

It's the third time for me to let you go.
But saying "goodbye" for me is just another "hello".
Like we usually do.
Like we did it now.

There is a list of things that I wish I remember.
First, ...............
Oh no, nevermind, I just forgot what the things are.

But I'm sure that there are things that I just can't forget.
Like the first time I saw you and the first time I talk to you. It might sounds cheesy but I just can't forget about it.

I can't forget the way your mouth curled up when you smile, or the way your eyes disappear when you laugh.
I can't forget your sparkly eyes when you talk about your day.
I can't forget your hand that shy to hold mine.

I can never forget the warmth of your hug, nor the tears you gave when you had a rough day.

It's hard to forget that I love you.
And the fact that I am loving you right now.

No, I don't want to forget you.
Not when I'm in love with you.

But there are things that I wish I remember, that the sparks are temporary, that you might one day look at me the way you look at your classmates, that your mouth might not want to say any love words, that your eyes might seems straight and empty when you look at me.

Those things, will eventually break my heart. Since I keep telling myself that you're the love of my life at least every time I look at your pictures. Since I keep saying that you're the one, whenever I read the old conversations of us.

I wish I can always remember that those pains will eventually come. But I can't. I am too busy denying those facts. So, I end up forgetting it.

I wish I remember other things, like the way you mad at me when I broke my promise. Or the way you ignore me when I became too protective. Or the day when you don't even want to touch me because you were so angry.

Yes, there are things that we wish we remember, that spark is temporary, but love might be permanent.
That love is not just about the times when we hug, but also the times when we fight.
That love is not about the first days of our lives, but it is about the journey.
That love...
Will leave.