When I look at the people, I see creatures of wounds. We were made to be indelicately assigned to the life we had never prepared to. Each of us have these non negotiable secrets, that are stained, locked for the rest of our lives. And then there are lies we tell people just so we can hide what’s once wounded, cover by cover. So thick it could blind our eyes so, up to the point we stopped learning, stopped processing the hurt. Hence we spent time wondering why life made no sense at all.

I’m the type of person that tries to fall back asleep in the morning just to finish a dream. Not because life bores me, but, it’s just too much of a thing. It’s like a ballroom of doors and people are dancing adventurously, looking out for everything. I am told not to open some but I do. Sometimes I regret it, sometimes I don’t. But above all the good things that life comes to offer, I get that too many choices opens up greater chance of another wound. Alternatively known as mistake.

One morning I woke up and realized that life had been teaching me to compensate with the hurt I received in lieu of the hurt I gave. The balance of hurting. You hurt people, they hurt you. Dream is simpler. It doesn’t cling you forever. Even if it’s a nightmare, the memory fades out in seconds you wake up. Only the feeling remains, not the wound. Meanwhile, life gives you both.

But that night I saw moonlight fell on your face and I understood. I looked up at the southern hemisphere stars and they could tell it too. There was something beautiful about all scars of whatever nature. A scar meant the hurt was over, the wound was closed and healed, done with. It’s not about me being healed. It’s about the wound we reveal to each other; the lessons we share among the smoke; the imperfect lives we are striving for. Mistakes are, eventually, proof that we are trying.

It was 4 a.m. when you said meeting people was easy, but finding the reason was another story. So I guess we dare to try. It’s your grin and your defensive rebuttals that I miss, but it’s out of the topic. Anyway, my life is not perfect. But I think now it makes sense.

Are you making a face now?

(Jakarta, 11 Januari 2015)

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