huuu

huuu

. . . . .

0
| 27 Mar 2011
P.U.T.U.S

GUE BENCI TANGGAL 27.

Ini bukan yang pertama kalinya dia mutusin gue.
Entah sudah yang ke berapa kalinya… entah yang ketiga, entah yang keempat kalinya.
Entahlah.
Setiap dia mutusin gue, dia tetep balik lagi sma gue.
Entah itu karena dia yang akhirnya ngeralat keputusannya,,,
Atau, gue minta dia tetap tinggal sebagai tanda gue gag mw diputusin.
Dia sering kesel karena dia suka banget ngebanding2in dirinya sma mantan2 gue,,,
(yang katanya lebih gue sayang, hanya karena tiap diputusin,gue selalu bertahan)
Padahal, dia cuma gag bisa ngeliat,,, bahwa gue sebenarnya sangat2 gag ingin hubungan ini berakhir.
Padahal, dia juga gag tau,,, bukan cuma dia yang tiap kali mutusin gue, gag gue pertahankan dengan cara mengatakan bahwa gue gag pengen ini berakhir.

Gue emang gag pengen ini berakhir. Cuma dia gag bisa mengerti itu, hanya karena gue gag menyampaikannya dengaan kata2,,,
Tapi, bukankah dengan menahannya untuk tetap tinggal,,, dan memohon padanya untuk gag pergi,,, itu udah nunjukin bahwa gue gag pengen ini berakhir.
(nah, masalahnya di situ,,, dia itu maunya gue ngomong… bilang ke dia kalo gue gag pengen diputusin.)

Gue benci tanggal 27.
Kenapa hari ini jadi hari yang menyakitkan banget buat gue………………….
Yaaahhh, karena kalo bukan hari ini, berarti 3 hari yang lalu.
Tepatnya, tanggal 24, dia udah minta putus sma gue. Cuma, karena gue ngotot sampe hari ini…
Yaaahhh, mungkin dia udah gag tahan dikekang sama pacar yang egois, keras kepala, emosional, gag pengertian dan gag pedulian kayak gue.
Atau, mungkin karena dia udah gag sayang sma gue.
Atau, mungkin karena dia emang gag sayang sma gue?
Gag tau.
Atau, mungkin karena dia udah nemuin orang laen yang lebih perfect dri gue?
Gag tau juga.

Bahkan air mata gue yang udah sederas hujan siang tadi pun udah gag punya arti apa2, bahkan untuk menahan dia tetap sma gue skalipun.
Gue gag minta dikasihani dengan airmata gue.
Gue cuma berharap dia bisa percaya sma gue, meski hanya sedikit.
SESAKIT APAPUN GUE, TAPI TETEP GUE GAG BISA BRENTI SAYANG SMA DIA.

Mr. over pede.

i just can't take my eyes off of you.

Father (also) Forgets

0
| 3 Feb 2011
Father Forgets
by W. Livingston Larned

Listen, son; I am saying this as you lie asleep, one little paw crumpled under your cheek and the blond curls stickily wet on your damp forehead. I have stolen into your room alone. Just a few minutes ago, as I sat reading my paper in the library, a stifling wave of remorse swept over me. Guiltily I came to your bedside.

There are things I was thinking, son: I had been cross to you. I scolded you as you were dressing for school because you gave your face merely a dab with a twoel. I took you to task for not cleaning your shoes. I called out angrily when you threw some of your things on the floor.

At breakfast I found fault, too. You spilled things. You gulped down your food. You put your elbows on the table. You spread butter too thick on your bread. And as you started off to play and I made for my train, you turned and waved a hand and called, "Goodbye, Daddy!" and I frowned, and said in reply, "Hold your shoulders back!"

Then it began all over again in the late afternoon. As I came Up the road, I spied you, down on your knees, playing marbles. There were holes in your stockings. I humiliated you before you boyfriends by marching you ahead of me to the house. Stockings were expensive - and if you had to buy them you would be more careful! Imagine that, son, form a father!

Do you remember, later, when I was reading in the library, how you came in timidly, with a sort of hurt look in your eyes? When I glanced up over my paper, impatient at the interruption, you hesitated at the door. "What is it you want?" I snapped.

You said nothing, but ran across in one tempestuous plunge, and threw your arms around my neck and kissed me, and your small arms tightened with an affection that God had set blooming in your heart and which even neglect could not wither. And then you were gone, pattering up the stairs.

Well, son, it was shortly afterwards that my paper slipped from my hands and a terrible sickening fear came over me. What has habit been doing to me? The habit of finding fault, of reprimanding - this was my reward to your for being a boy. It was not that I did not love you; it was that I expected too much of youth. I was measuring you by the yardstick of my own years.

And there was so much that was good and fine and true in your character. The little heart of you was as big as the dawn itself overthe wide hills. This was shown by your spontaneous impulse to rush in and kiss me good night. Nothing else matters tonight, son. I have come to your bedside in the darkness, and I have knelt there, ashamed!

It is a feeble atonement; I know you would not understand these things if I told them to you during your waking hours. But tomorrow I will be a real daddy! I will chum with you, and suffer when you suffer, and laugh when you alugh. I will bite my tongue when impatient words come. I will keep saying as if it were a ritual: "He is nothing but a boy - a little boy!"

I am afraid I have visualized you as a man. Yet as I see you now, son, crumpled and weary in your cot, I see that you are still a baby. Yesterday you were in your mother's arms, your head on her shoulder. I have asked too much, too much.

Your Call

0
| 11 Jan 2011
 Waiting for your call, I'm sick
call,  I'm angry
call, I'm desperate for your voice

Listening to the song we used to sing
in the car, do you remember
butterfly, Early Summer
it's playing on repeat
just like when we would meet
like when we would meet

Cause I was born to tell you I love you
and I am torn to do what I have to
to make you mine
stay with me tonight

Stripped and pollished
I am new, I am fresh
I am feeling so ambitious
you and me, flesh to flesh
cause every breath that you will take
when you are sitting next to me
will bring life into my deepest hopes

What's your fantasy?
(What's your, what's your...)

I was born to tell you I love you
And I am torn to do what I have to, to make you mine
Stay with me tonight

And I'm tired of being all alone
and this solitary moment makes me want to come back home
[X4]
(I know everything you wanted isn't anything you have)

I was born to tell you I love you
and I am torn to do what I have to, to make you mine
stay with me tonight

I was born to tell you I love you
and I am torn to do what I have to
to make you mine
stay with me tonight
(I know everything you wanted isn't anything you have) 
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