tell me i matter
tell me i deserve things
tell me i'm fine
tell me it's going to an end
tell me i'll be fixed
tell me i'll be saved
tell me even if i jump off the bridge,
shattered to pieces;
i'll still be able to find.

there's this girl, her name is felicia,
and she is not afraid to love with all she might,
to fall over and over again,
to get hurt and to be misunderstood,
to be pushed away by the circumstances she is not aware.
i tell her she is stupid, wasting her time, and that she deserves better;
but still the only time she cries is because he cries.

there's this guy, his name is derio,
tells me he knows nothing about love, or how to win a girl heart,
but i witness him giving his drink to her,
pats her back after their group presentation,
shows me what he writes and how i notice he engraves
every single thing about her in words,
how he makes a playlist contains songs about her
and how she makes him feel.

there's this girl, her name is nadya,
her love is the love that is so pure and innocent,
that even when he is miles away she tells me she senses his presence.
she draws him paintings, consist of pastel colors, and i ask her why;
she says it brings calmness to every storm.
i will look up at her history chat, being a protective friend that i am;
and i notice how fast she responds,
showering him with the attention he never have.

there's this guy, his name is andre,
and the way he talks about her, i assure you,
even the star constellations will envy the spark in his eyes.
his wallpaper is green, and i joke a lot about it;
how it shows that he is a capitalist, how it looks like he just puke on it,
but he shrugs it all off; tells me it is her favorite color.

there's this girl, her name is clara,
never going anywhere without a book in her hand,
sometimes she will surprise me with midnight chats
contains her crying over a fictional character and how unfair the ending is,
she has this web-page where she writes the unsent letters
to every character she is in love with.
she has a personal blog where she makes each of them
another story, another ending.

there's this guy, his name is elliot,
a head division of an event i am contributed in,
and between the meetings that goes almost overnight,
he insists to walk her to the train station even if she never ask to.
he tells me it is not because he think she is weak and can't protect herself,
he says it is because she is precious.

and then there is me;
a witness,
a learner,
a note-taker,
of all kind of love they show,
of all kind of love they grow,
for sometimes it is easy to love
but hard to remember
how beautiful and endearing it is.

to my future children, if ever i have them;

if ever i grow you up, i hope you'd let me listen to your playlist
so i'd know what you are feeling, and what kind of songs that soothes you,
for i know letting your feeling out by words is as hard as writing on the water

if ever i grow you up, i hope you'd let me know what book you read recently;
so i'd know what kind of world you wish to escape,
for i might have the chance to make it nearer,

if ever i grow you up, please, please, i beg you;
to not cry alone in the corner of your room, knowing no one cares
and wishing the cold wall to swallow you down
or for someone to come and stab you in the back so that all your pain would gone,

if ever i grow you up, my dear,
i hope you'd come to me to cry, or at least;
i hope you let me in into your room,
i hope you wouldn't be someone who's ashamed of your tears
because it's not shameful, sweetheart, it's a proof that you're a human,
and there's nothing wrong with that.

if ever i grow you up, i hope you're going
to be someone who is not afraid of birthdays and new years,
and if you're afraid of dark and crowds;
know that it's okay to accept that, to be afraid of them;
because everyone is afraid at something.

if ever i grow you up, i hope you know i will never
ask you to be someone you think you can't be;
because i want you to be happy, so be it, be anything you want;
a bee keeper, kindergarten teacher, florist;
happiness is not that simple to be found, and sometimes
trying to fulfill everyone expectation will not get you anywhere.

and i hope, if ever you think you are not enough,
know that you're always enough, sweetheart;

you are my kid and that's more than enough.

someday,
somewhere,
someway;

you will find the girl
who loves herself enough
to love you even more.

What do I want to write? What is it that’s not abstract about me? How to explain what I want to explain, what I want to tell, without confusing whoever reads it? I want to keep it vague, I want to keep it unnoticed, I want to keep it just the way I want it written. You make the theme too heavy to read, they said, keep it simple.

But how do I do that? These are my words, these are the reflection of what I am, what I’ve been through, what I learnt, what makes me, me; and it’s never simple. It’s always the overlaps of pain and wounds I fail to heal, the glimpses of happiness I desperately trying to hold onto before it crashes to dust and I’m trying to defend what I’ve left. It’s always the grief to which I wake up every 3 a.m, always the same red spots I find plastering on the ceilings, it’s always the promises I or they broke, the dreams I never have the chance to weave, the will that never gleams, the hope I have forsaken.

It’s always confusing. It’s always spinning, unclear, abstract, and always I am there, in the middle, tumbling between everything that is unsure, unexplainable, and other ‘uns’ I can never list.

Dreams are meant to be chased, you say, and I am there. Four hundreds sixty two kilometers away from everything that screams comfort for both of us, and I am there. Four hundreds sixty two kilometers, the turning point where the car hits the road, doesn't care how loud I scream inside, begging the universe to bring you back to me, to bring me back to you, to eliminate the four hundreds sixty two kilometers from our way.

And I cry, you cry, and we both don't know how to stop.

In that very moment I stare at the horizon that would be different from mine. That horizon is yours, and I'll go back to the place where the horizon used to be ours. And I will never stare at the same constellation, I will never have the same stormy rain we used to run through together, I will never have the same field where we lay back our head, stick it to each other. I will find your shadow plastering on the horizon, I will hear your voice resonates in every corner of the street I turn myself into;

But you won't see me, you won't hear me,

Because I have lost you, between four hundreds sixty two kilometers, between a slight time difference, I have lost you, I lost you: forever.

You could've just killed me,
But you decided it wasn't enough to suffered me;
So you let me live.