Some say, “when you’re sad, write a poem” “Sorrow is the gasoline for people like us” But most of times it doesn’t light me up, -it kills me time after time And now my heart is like a graveyard full of tombs some are still open, and some are closed I’m afraid of finding the old body -while digging for the new one Are they fossilized already? Or are they still wet and rotten? I replied to them, “I don’t have to find a muse, -my life is already like one” When I was seventeen, there was a man who texted me A man I knew only by the name, We came from the sperm of the same person, And he was born before me The fucked-up thread I had only imagined in my head, for years Was now talking right to me Saying my mother and I -had ruined his and his younger brother’s lives because our father abandoned them At that time, I was still a child who is fussed when her father forgot to say “see you later...
Kenapa mata Pelajaran IPS yang kita pelajari di Sekolah cenderung dipersempit ke hafalan teks-teks sejarah dan adakah relevansinya dengan eksploitasi tenaga kerja.? Kenapa gaada yang ngomong kalau ngejalanin kehidupan setelah kuliah itu ternyata ga lebih tenang dari sewaktu kita struggle ngurus skripsi? Waktu lagi sibuk-sibuknya skripsian, masalah kita itu cenderung seputar kenapa dosbing susah banget ditemuin waktu kita lagi mau konsul, atau waktu kita udah revisi banyak ternyata besoknya ga dibaca dan disuruh revisi bagian lain lagi. Rasanya kayak pelarian yang tak berujung, secercah harapan yang terlihat di ujung sana adalah ketika tanggal sidang udah turun. Finally, this shit is gonna meet an end. Ternyata, perjalanan mencari kerja itu ga bergerak di tempo yang sama (semakin cepet lari, semakin cepet juga berakhirnya), yang aku temuin adalah lari dan berlari sampai akhirnya drop seminggu kena asam lambung (dan aku belum dapat kerjaan juga, and I started to think what is wrong with...