7/30: A Pet Who is Loved

Do you know what’s so nice about being rich? You can buy everything you want. I know some people out there who have this obsession for some stuffs like animals, books, stamps, coffee, etc. I once watched a reality show about animal hoarders. They keep an unusually huge number of animals as domestic pets without having ability to take care of them or even their house. Do you know why do they have no ability to take care of those stuffs? It’s because they are not rich. Do not argue me because, come on, if they got unlimited amount of money, they can buy a bigger house so those pets can have their own special room, and of course they can hire maids to clean up the mess. Life is so easy as long as you have money.

I am no different than those hoarders, I have this huge obsession to my pets. The only difference between me and them is they do not have money while I indeed have much more money than them.

Do you know how many pets I have in my home? I only have 25 pets in my home. It’s nothing compared to this woman I previously saw on TV who pets 58 cats in her home. But my pets are not just stray cats, or stray dogs, or those disgusting reptiles and insects. My pets are very special. So special that you won’t find them in any pet shops on earth. I am not exaggerating, I guarantee you won’t find them in any pet shops in the world. My pets are well-maintained, they take bath regularly, eat nutritious foods, have sufficient amount of daily workouts, have proper place to sleep, and have great time playing with me.

Let me tell you about details how I take care of my pets. I groom them regularly, all by myself. I do not bring them to grooming centre or else. It strengthens the bond between me and them if I groom them by myself. I also do not like to dress them. It is way nicer if they are not wearing clothes. Isn’t it the nature for pets not to wear clothes? Why do people bother dress their pets? For the food, I have a great cook to prepare their food. Three times a day: breakfast, lunch, and dinner; also they have their snack time at 10 am and 3 pm. I even have a special mini gym for them to make sure that they can have sufficient amount of training, and of course, I have a room for them to sleep. Even, each of them have their own bed with their name on it. I am such a nice owner, aren’t I?

I also can control their population because I only buy male pets. I do not like female pets because they can be so naughty to the male pets. They can have sex without I even knowing. You know, no matter how hard you train your pets, they still have sex behind you or even sometimes, right in front of you. Then what can I do if suddenly I have more pets to be taken care of because of those female pets get pregnant? So, I chose to only buy male pets.

Among the pets I have, I do have my favourite. His name is Lorry. He’s the most handsome pet in my home and also the smartest one. I love to play with him a lot. He’s so adorable that I always hug him every time he pass by me in the living room. Lorry also loves to tease me. If I am asleep in a couch he will sit above me and start to lick me until I wake up. He also loves to take a bath. Every time he sees me come in to the bath room he will join and ask me to bathe him. He loves to play a lot. When he sees me laying lazily on the couch in the living room, he will come and bring his favourite toy and ask me to play with him. He’s so adorable isn’t he?

I have this schedule for my pets to sleep in my room, so everyday I must sleep with different pets. I do this just to make sure that they won’t be jealous to each other but special for Lorry, he must sleep with me every weekend. That’s his schedule. If Lorry stays in my room I will find a hard time to sleep because he keeps asking me to play with him all night long. I think he has unlimited amount of energy, even if I am already tired and sleepy he’s still fit and ask me to play again and again. But how can I resist him? He’s just to adorable.

The hardest part about dealing with Lorry is when I have my menstrual period. It seems like he doesn’t care and keep asking me to play with him. At the end we will still play but I have to make extra effort because it’s disgusting to have his thing in me when I am in my period.

What? Wait! Are you confuse? Ah, you think that I have sex with animal?? Haha, of course not. Have I told you that my pets are humans?

06/30: Family

Hi! My name is Rico. I do not have family. Well, maybe I had but it would be different from you, or at least my family is very different if I compare to my best friend’s, Lolita. Lolita has such a loving family; caring mom, charismatic dad, cute and nice sister. I do not have mom, dad, or siblings. Maybe I had, but I do not remember any of them. The only one I could probably call family is maybe Lolita, but she always tells me that I am her best friend. Well, let it be, for me Lolita and her family are like my own family. They raised me since I was little, and for those kindnesses they have shared, I swore that I will do anything to make them happy. I will always be there for them.

Lolita once told me about how I ended up in their house. It was such a silent morning, an ordinary silent morning. Lolita’s father happened to go to the mosque to do Morning Prayer when he saw the little me in front of their home. I was so small and weak, he could not find anyone around, my mother or my father, I do not know which one of them left me alone in front of Lolita’s house. Her father speculated that maybe my father was an irresponsible husband who left his wife alone carried me in her womb, and then my mother could not take care of me so she left me there. My parents were mean. If only I have loving parents like Lolita’s.

Since then, Lolita’s family takes care of me. Lolita said she was very happy that my father found me on that day. She said this house would be very different if I was not here. While for me, my life would have been very different if I was not with them.

When I grew up, I noticed something. I am different. I cannot speak. I can understand every single word they say, but I cannot say any of them. No matter how hard I tried, it only results a strange voice. I hated myself. Not only I cannot speak like them, I have this oddity, my hair grows in my whole body and it makes me even weirder. But, no matter how different I am, Lolita’s family still accept me the way I am. I am so lucky being raised in this family.

Today is Lolita’s 17th birthday. People say that 17th birthday is the special birthday so I want to give her something special. I walk around the house, thinking about what I should give to her. I never give her any birthday present because I do not have money to buy her any, but today is very special I have to give her something. Something she would never forget. I walk out of the house try to get some ideas. I walk and walk and walk, hoping the idea would come. I keep thinking while walking without knowing where my feet bring me to when suddenly I heard Lolita’s voice from distance, “Oh my God! Rico!!!! Get off from the street!!!!” I turn my head to see her, but before I see her, I see a car right in front of my face. It is too late. I cannot dodge, I feel my face is hit very hard then I feel an enormous weight crushing my body, then I feel nothing. But I still can see Lolita is running to me, tears come down from her eyes, makes her cheeks wet. I make her cry. I am so stupid. Hei, Lolita! It’s okay! I do not even feel anything. I am a strong boy. But Lolita keeps crying beside me. She strokes my head but I cannot feel her hand.

“Why, Rico? Why??? It is my birthday, you fool!!!” She whispers. A man awkwardly comes at her without saying anything and looks at me with a pair of eyes full of regret.

“Why, sir? WHY??? WHY DO YOU RUN OVER MY DOG???” Lolita is yelling at him. I do not know what happen after that. Slowly but surely everything is getting blurred and the only thing I see is only a massive white light blinded my eyes. No, please don’t. I don’t want to die. Not today. Today is Lolita’s birthday.

Sentimen Sore

Ada tiga hal yang bisa membuat saya benar-benar larut dalam biru:

Sore, kopi hitam, dan hujan.

Tidak perlu ketiganya untuk meluruhkan saya yang berpura-pura mandiri. Tidak perlu ketiganya untuk membuat saya terdiam seribu bahasa. Cukup gabungan dari dua hal diatas selalu berhasil membuat saya larut dalam lamunan dan terbawa dalam kenangan bertahun-tahun lalu, di teras depan sebuah rumah sederhana: Continue reading

Ngopi (di) Jakarta

Hai there! Setelah sebulan kemarin saya hiatus (cailah, hiatus), akhirnya saya kembali nulis lagi. Tapi kali ini bukan di blog ini. Kebetulan minggu kemarin Bang Ali Zaenal (rekan multiply yang sampai saat ini masih bertukar kabar), nawarin saya untuk join nulis di blog bareng-bareng yang berjudul “Ngopi (di) Jakarta”. Tanpa pikir panjang ba-bi-bu, saya langsung mengiyakan ajakan Bang Ali. Saya pun mulai baca-baca isi blog “Ngopi (di) Jakarta” kemudian saya langsung merasa ciut. Tulisan rekan-rekan di sana bagus-bagus sementara saya? Da aku mah apa atuh, pengen jadi penulis tapi moody jadi aja nggak pernah berkembang.

Ngopi (di) Jakarta sendiri isinya kebanyakan feature tentang kehidupan metropolitan, didefinisikan secara indah di halaman “Tentang Kami”. Mengutip dari halaman yang sama: Continue reading

Wh(Y), Gen wh(Y)?

Sebenarnya postingan ini berisi repost dari tweets saya setahun yang lalu. Waktu itu saya sedang nggak bisa tidur dan somehow kepikiran tentang generasi saya, gen y. Waktu itu saya lagi sering-seringnya nemu artikel tentang Gen Y. Generasi yang lahir di tahun 1980s – 1990s. Banyak banget artikel yang bahas tentang betapa berbedanya Gen Y ini dibandingin sama generasi sebelumnya. Ada beberapa hal positif dan nggak ketinggalan segudang hal negatif mengenai generasi ini. Karena di twitter susah nyarinya lagi akhirnya saya memutuskan untuk nulis ulang di blog ini. Continue reading

The Bridge

There was a bridge stretched between us. You were alone across the bridge, I waved my hand so you could see there was someone on the opposite. You smiled, the smile of our hello, the smile that brought us in the middle of the bridge, the smile I would not forget.

The bridge was the only witness of the joy we shared, stories uttered, laughter bursted, also admiration and the love I hid.

One day, I waited you in the middle of the bridge and I saw you ran to me. “I found my angel!” You yelled from distance. Your eyes shone by admiration. I blushed and smiled wide. Were you that stupid and took so long to realized that your angel has been waiting here, in the middle of the bridge?

You finally reached me, held my hand and said, “You have to meet her. You have to meet my angel!” You pulled my hand and ran to the end of the bridge. I saw someone with a pair of beautiful white wings waiting at the end of the bridge. She was your angel. Your angel wasn’t me, and it has never been me.

The next day, I brought a torch to the bridge. I walked across to your place and I found you with your angel. I called your name, waved, and walked back to the bridge. That would be my last wave for you before I burn the bridge. I would not see you again.

I lit the fire in the middle of the bridge. The fire started to spread when I heard your voice calling my name, you ran to stop the fire. But it was too late. It collapsed right before you reach the middle. I drowned, but you were safe.

Ages has passed. I survived and walked my path nowhere near you. Until one day, I did not know how, my feet brought me to a place I knew, to the bridge I burned. I narrowed my eyes across the collapsed bridge. You were still there, you were alone. The memories rushed back, and I realized something. I could burn the bridge, but I could not burn the memories. I could close my eyes to things I do not want to see, but I could not close my heart to things I do not want to feel.

I turned about and started to walk against the bridge. This time not to flee. I would come back here with a lot of woods, to build a new bridge, to start a new hello, to feel once again the love for you.

And I Would Say

If only I said it to you, if only I said it once.

If only I brave enough to tell you, if only I believe there’s a chance.

Will it still be matter for us?

Will I be able to fix what happened in the past?

Would you once again look at me in the eyes?

Would I have a chance not to tell you lies?

And I would say,

I still love you…

I Would Love…

“Masih The Corrs?” Kamu berkomentar begitu memasuki kamarku. Hampir satu bulan ini aku terus-terusan memutar lagu-lagu The Corrs dimulai dari album pertama mereka hingga album terakhir mereka, tidak lupa video konser mereka yang aku download dari internet.

“Masih protes?” jawabku balik bertanya. Kamu tersenyum lalu melemparkan diri di atas kasurku kemudian telungkup dan menatap ke arahku.

“Ada apa dengan kamu dan The Corrs selama sebulan ini sih?” Kamu kembali bertanya. Aku mengerenyitkan dahi. Ini pertama kalinya kamu menanyakan hal ini setelah hampir satu bulan lagu-lagu The Corrs menjadi playlist wajibku. Biasanya kamu akan menanyakan pertanyaan tidak penting atau berkomentar asal seperti, “Apa sih bagusnya The Corrs?” atau “Please, hidup di masa kini dong, Ka.” atau “Vokalisnya cantik ya. Nggak kaya kamu.” dan komentar menyebalkan lainnya.

Aku terdiam sejenak memikirkan jawaban dari pertanyaanmu karena aku sendiri tidak tahu jawaban yang tepat akan kegilaanku akan The Corrs yang muncul kembali tiba-tiba. “Kangen.” Jawabku pendek. Mungkin memang itu jawaban yang paling tepat. Mungkin aku memang bosan mendengarkan lagu-lagu jaman sekarang yang menurutku tidak se-easy-listening dan tidak se-dalam lagu-lagu sewaktu aku masih remaja dulu. Kamu masih melihat ke arahku, tidak berkedip menunggu kelanjutan dari jawabanku. “Udah itu aja.” aku melanjutkan.

“Nggak ada alasan lain?” Kamu berharap aku memberikan jawaban yang lebih panjang. Aku menatapmu lama dan mengangguk yakin. Kamu merubah posisi tidurmu menjadi telentang dan memperhatikan langit-langit kamarku.

“Aku juga.” Kamu tiba-tiba bicara. Aku bingung dengan maksud pernyataanmu. Kemudian kepalamu menengok dan menatapku lagi. “Aku juga kangen.” seolah-olah kamu mengerti bahwa aku tidak dapat menangkap maksud pernyataanmu.

“Sejak kapan Rendra Hendraatmaja bisa kangen sama The Corrs?” Aku semakin bingung.

“Sama kamu.” Jawabmu. Aku langsung tertawa mendengar jawabanmu yang menurutku tidak berkesinambungan dengan topik obrolan kita. Tapi kamu tidak tertawa sedikitpun, dan aku pun salah tingkah. “Maksud kamu? Kan kita tiap hari ketemu.” Jawabku enteng.

“Ya tapi, kamu kangennya sama The Corrs. Nggak sama aku.” Kamu menjawab seperti anak kecil dengan mata bulatmu yang kau bikin seakan mengiba. Aku tidak dapat menahan tawa melihatmu seperti itu. Aku bangkit dari lantai kamarku dan beranjak ke tempat tidur, kemudian ikut berbaring di sebelahmu. “Dasar aneh.” ucapku sambil menyentil hidungmu. “Iya, aneh kaya The Corrs dan lagu-lagu mereka.” Jawabmu menyebalkan. Aku siap membuka mulut untuk protes. Tetapi belum sempat aku melancarkan protesku, kamu melanjutkan kalimatmu, “Saking anehnya nggak bisa ditiru sama band lain. Buktinya, tahun 2013 gini, kamu masih dengerin mereka.” Aku tidak jadi protes. Untuk orang sepertimu, kalimat tadi sudah termasuk standar pujian. Dasar, cowok aneh. Kita terdiam sejenak, sehingga hanya lagu The Corrs yang terdengar dari kamarku.

“I would love to love you like you do me.
Love to love you like you do me.
There’s a pillar in my way you see.
I’d love to love you like you do me.”

Aku melihat ke arahmu dan mendapatimu sedang melihat ke arahku. Kita berdua tersenyum. “I would love to love you like you do me, Riska Hendraatmaja. I love you, Kak.” Aku tertawa mendengar gombalanmu sekaligus getir mendengarnya.

“So I prayed to God that I could give the love you gave to me,
But something’s lying in my way, preventing it to be.”

If only… We’re not siblings…

Hanya Pagi Ini

Pagi ini tidak ada secangkir kopi pahit di atas meja kerjaku. Seandainya kamu ada di sini, aku yakin kamu akan tersenyum senang karena merasa berhasil menyingkirkan penyebab utama insomniaku di awal hariku.

Pagi ini cangkir yang biasa terisi kopi pahit yang kau benci kuganti isinya dengan teh hangat ditambah susu yang agak kebanyakan. Seandainya kamu ada di sini, kamu pasti mengomentari kadar susunya. Akan membuatku gendut katamu. Tapi tidak apa, toh kamu tidak ada di sini.

Pagi ini, aku tidak ingin merasakan pahit seperti biasanya. Aku sedang tidak ingin ditemani pahit yang selalu berhasil membuatku tersadar bahwa hidup tidak selalu manis.

Pagi ini, aku ingin ditemani rasa manis karena tanpa kopi pun sudah terasa pahit menyadari kamu tidak di sini. Seperti yang dulu selalu kamu lakukan. Kamu muncul kemudian hilang. Pagi ini pun begitu. Kamu hilang lagi.

Pagi ini. Hanya pagi ini. Biarlah kenyataan yang pahit terlupakan dengan isi cangkirku.


Seorang perempuan dan laki-laki muda di dalam sebuah ruang berdinding kuning muda, berdesain minimalis dihiasi sebuah meja dengan beberapa tumpukan kertas, satu sofa panjang dan satu kursi kayu jati. Si perempuan berusia dua puluhan, sementara si lelaki berusia beberapa tahun lebih tua.

“Bagaimana kabarmu hari ini?” Si lelaki membuka obrolan dengan menambahkan senyum ramah di wajahnya. Si perempuan hanya tersenyum kecut dan mengangkat bahu tanda tak yakin. Lelaki tadi sekali lagi tersenyum dan melanjutkan, “Well, silakan dimulai kapanpun kamu siap. Kamu masih punya waktu 90 menit lagi.”

Perempuan itu bernama Kala. Ia menatap lelaki di depannya, seorang psikolog muda yang ia temui sejak minggu kemarin. Bukan psikolog handal memang, namun tarifnya cukup terjangkau bagi Kala yang belum lama bekerja. Kala menilai lelaki ini cukup kaku jika dilihat dari penampilannya. Bukan potongan rambutnya ataupun celana kain yang ia kenakan, tetapi kemeja lengan panjang yang tidak pernah dilipat, bahkan kancing di pergelangan tangannya pun dikancingkan. Rasanya kurang cocok untuk menjadi seorang psikolog. Kala menghela nafas panjang, membuka mulutnya bersiap untuk mengatakan sesuatu namun ia menutupnya lagi. Kali ini lebih rapat dari sebelumnya. Hal itu terus berulang selama hampir lima menit.

Sementara Kala berusaha berbicara, Sion, psikolog muda ini berusaha membaca Kala, perempuan ini terlihat manis walaupun tidak terlalu feminin. Ia tidak memperhatikan penampilannya. Rambutnya diikat asal, mengenakan kaos lengan panjang, celana jeans dan sepatu keds. Apakah ia tidak gerah mengenakan baju lengan panjang di ibu kota? Ataukah dia setertutup itu?

“Am I who I am?” Tiba-tiba Kala bersuara.

“Aku nggak merasa hidup. Ada yang hilang. Bukan, banyak yang hilang. Aku sering bingung. Aku sering marah. Aku… Nggak tau…”

Kala terdiam sejenak lalu melanjutkan, “Aku nggak suka.”

“Nggak suka?” Sion bertanya.

“Iya nggak suka. Nggak suka sama kerjaanku, nggak suka sama personality aku, nggak suka sama teman-temanku. Ya nggak suka.” Kala mengepalkan tangannya erat-erat tanda ia marah. Berbeda dari beberapa menit yang lalu ketika ia terlihat sendu.

“Terlalu banyak perubahan.” Kala bicara lagi. Kali ini suaranya lirih.

“Dan kamu nggak suka perubahan?” Sion bertanya.

“Bukan itu!” Intonasi suara Kala meninggi. “Cuma, terlalu banyak perubahan. Aku nggak siap.” Kali ini suaranya lirih kembali.

“Lalu, kapan kamu siap?” Sion bertanya, suaranya tetap tenang.

Kala menggeleng pelan. “Ntah… Nggak akan pernah siap mungkin. I left so many things behind. Dan parahnya, yang aku tinggalin adalah hal-hal yang bikin aku hidup, sementara yang aku kejar adalah hal-hal yang bikin aku sesak nafas tiap hari.”

Kala terus bercerita. Tentang bagaimana kehidupannya yang sekarang terlihat jauh lebih baik dibanding dua tahun yang lalu justru menyiksanya. Ia bercerita bagaimana ia menangis setiap pagi berharap semuanya adalah mimpi, dan ketika ia bangun ia masih Kala dua tahun yang lalu. Sion mendengarkan kisah Kala sambil menuliskan beberapa catatan pada kertas kosong.

Tidak terasa 90 menit berlalu. “Ada lagi yang mau kamu ceritakan, Kala?”

Kala mengangkat bahu. Matanya menerawang pada sudut-sudut ruangan, berusaha berpikir, kemudian menggeleng pelan. “Ntah, hari ini segitu saja sepertinya.”

Sion masih tersenyum, “Oke, next week jam 10 kita lanjutkan ya.” Kala tersenyum kecut lagi. Mereka bersalaman kemudian Sion mengantar Kala keluar ruangan.

Kala langsung masuk ke dalam mobilnya, sementara Sion kembali ke dalam. Di dalam mobil, kala menarik lengan bajunya dan memperhatikan goresan-goresan bekas luka di pergelangan tangannya. Ada beberapa yang hampir hilang sementara yang lainnya masih baru. Ia menghela nafas lagi dan bergumam, “Yang ini belum bisa diceritakan. Tidak pada siapapun.”

Sementara Sion tidak lagi tersenyum di dalam ruangannya. Ia meremas kertas kosong di atas mejanya dan membuangnya jauh-jauh. Ia bersandar di kursi dan bergumam, “Psikolog. Yayaya. Psikolog. Sok-sok membantu orang seakan tidak punya masalah.” Ia kemudian membuka kancing di pergelangan tangannya dan melipat kemejanya. Terlihat banyak luka sayat di lengannya. “Ya, ya, ya. Lalu pada siapa aku harus bercerita?”