Prayer

On the note of being black, white, asian, caucasian, melanisian, african, et cetera...
On the note of racism issues.


"Tuhan, kenapa kau ciptakan kami berbeda?
Tapi tak kau buat kami cukup pintar untuk mengerti bahwa kami semua sama...?"

(say hi to) DAUL KIM

I was contemplating what to write tonight when I suddenly reminded of her. I then added her blog's link to my page.
The 'I LIKE TO FORK MYSELF' one...? Yes, that is hers.

You may (not) know her. She is Daul Kim, a South-Korean supermodel.
I initially found out about her while I was googling about any Asian supermodel, regarding my former obsession about being supermodel......... Hey. Please stop going all 'hmphhhh'.
Well, I was anxious about my height and thought they probably would make exception for Asian supermodels, considering that Asian tend to be shorter than Caucasian. Apparently not. Daul Kim herself reached at least 175 cm tall. Okay. Bye bye runway, bye bye Vogue.

At first I did not think of her as one of those gorgeous models. She looked pretty plain to me. But then I started to get interested in her. I might as well as praised her for not turning into overrated Korean-looks these days... you know, bright coloured T-shirts, plastic surgery, geo-lens, etc. She's being genuine, keeping her fierce figure and slinted eyes.

I googled more about her, found out that she had a blog, and falling for her in instance. Her thoughts were deeply intelligent. Her writings were distinguishable, honest, original, one of a kind.... She was sarcastically witty. Oh yes I strongly suggest you to stroll all over her posts! She's clearly one interesting individual.

I began to routinely check her latest post until one day, her blog was locked to public viewer.
I can't help myself wondering why. Then I found out she committed suicide on November 19th, 2009, hung herself in her apartment in Paris.

Dang.

I indeed did not know her personally, but I feel all sad and grief when I discovered that. You know... immersed in someones' writings might give you the impression that you are kinda know that person, kinda know their personality, etc. Looking thoroughly from what she had been writing, I absolutely can not say that she was one of those short-minded person (which description usually considered fit those who committed suicide)

She read books. And if we are going to make prejudices about someone, they are best corroborated by seeing what kind of literature they have been reading, no?

She read Tolstoy

In case you are not in the mood of clicking the video due to your irresistibly sluggish internet connection and such: Daul was telling that she was reading one of Tolstoy's novels titled Hadji Murad when one of her fellow models asked her what she has been reading.

'Tolstoy,' answered she.

'Ohh you're reading Toy Story!'

'No, Tolstoy.' She shook hear head.

'Oh, Toy Story. You said it Toy Sto-wy'

'It's Tolstoy.' She insisted.

'No, no. That's not how you say it. It's Toy Story.'

Daul then tried spelling it, 'T-o-l-s-t-o-i' (alternative spelling of Tolstoy)

The model responded, 'Who's Tolstoi?' And Daul was like errgghhhh. She hated how the model treated her like she had had bad pronunciation regarding the fact she was non-native English speaker. 

I found it funny yet ironic in the same time.

Well....

Someone who had been reading Tolstoy is indeed not all narrow-minded, isn't she?

Stereotypes let us consequently think that brainy usually does not go along with beauty, so it is understandable that I started to admire her as soon as I knew that she was not one of those kind of models, who were just pretty but pretty much empty-headed.

I do not know what would you think of her after seeing that very video, but to me she had quite bubbly and amiable personality, which made me even sadder.

For some time, I couldn't stop enquiring why on earth she would have ended her life in the first place. In general people's perspective, she had what most girls may dying to have for in life: being top model, etc. Not to mention she was likely on the top of her career just before her death, being one of Karl Lagerfeld's favourite. 

Oh, didn't I mention to you that she was a painter too? She ever held solo exhibition of her painting in Seoul.

May not be considered as well-accomplished in skill, perhaps, but it is art to me. And it is rather deep....

It's like, she's more than just meet the eye, hiding something behind her smiles, darkness beyond colours she had chosen to show. She seemed to be trapped in some kind of loneliness we can't even reach, circumstances we won't even understand. She constantly posted about being depressed and hurting herself, but then she added that she was kidding and just fine, and everyone thought she really was kidding. Until that really happened.

* * *

Her posting in April 2007 titled 'my idol' caught my eye. She wrote about female singer she used to idolize when she was 10. She then elaborate that singer's career, which seemed to deteriorate according to her, because she started to go rather commercial, lose her identity, and then forgotten. Daul then wished that the singer may just die before she released her 3rd album, before her going all famous, so that the singer may remain legend in her heart, remembered as how Daul used to remember her.

I could not really know what could be her urge on doing suicide, what was her last thought.

But if, just if, and I'm not trying to be mean here, only if.....

her reason was just because she wanted to be remembered THIS way, the way I describe Daul like THIS, before she's left forgotten and being nobody,

I think..... that is.... pretty much agreeable.

I love you Daul!

P.S.: You may be wondering why I constantly made reference to her blog despite it was being closed...? It is because her blog was opened again, in archive format! Enjoy reading glimpse of her :)

Merely Lucky

First of all, it is started from a single sentence:

I got accepted. In my dream university, University of Indonesia. Yeay.

The announcement was on June 29th, supposed to be on 7 pm. Yet, I can't help myself to keep refreshing the website, logging in numerous times, in hope the result came up before time scheduled. And it did. On 5 pm, it appeared.
Me. Got. Accepted.
I glanced at my mobile screen, and thought if it was some kind of joke. I started doubting if the link belongs to the official website, or if there was an error....

I sit calmly afterwards, waited until 7 pm to see if the result remain the same. And it still did!
I, who was filled with cynicism before, bewildered, and later the doubt turn into happiness and excitement.

But the euphoria won't last long. Hearing my fellows who did not make it through, the joy soon tainted by grief.

The more I listed the name of my friends who failed, the more I thought that this is just rather... irrational.

Some (or may I say, 'quite many'?) people tend to relate this to one's cleverness degree. Majority thinks that this is just as simple as answering questions as much as you could, getting marks as high as possible. Then those who did not get accepted are simply...what...not smart enough?

Wrong.

I happened to have the answer key (well, they have spread all over the internet, you can find it easily). I then matched my answer with my friend, and found that our marks are slightly different. I got approximately 55%, and she got 51%. Yet, I got accepted, and she did not.

I also participated in so-called quick count (yeah, like ones they do in general election) in a forum. There was a guy who scored way higher than I did. He was aiming for getting into Political Science department, which supposedly, supposedly, was rather easier to get into than Communication department. Yet, I got accepted, and he did not.

There is also another fellow whom I know she happened to attend BTA (some kind of course that helps students to learn the materials for university entrance test) and she eventually scored splendidly there, ranked 1st to 3rd among 300 students or so in each try-outs. Surely I was way below her.
And she did not get accepted. Bam. Mind-blown.
I was so going to pull my hair when I found out about that, for whateversake!

Then there is a friend whom I recently got acquainted with, put Psychology as her 1st choice, and Communication as 2nd choice. The entrance rate of Communication is lower than Psychology, hence her priority list is technically wrong, but since she prefer Psychology to Communication, then it is okay I guess.
What so curious is... the fact that she got accepted in Communication instead of Psychology.
You see, considering the entrance rate, when her marks are enough to enter Communication, supposedly, again, supposedly, it will be automatically enough to enter Psychology too. But the result did not say so. Logically failed.
Now, it is officially absurd.

 This is nothing like daily exam, which errors you can find and then you can beg the teacher to revise your marks. No. This... we could not really know our actual result, or our rivals'. We would not know if there was any 'X' factor put into consideration of our acceptance or rejection.

Hence, I could not help myself raising my eyebrows when I saw several postings in a forum I visited.
The author bragged so much about the superiority of public universities, especially ITB, UI, UGM, and despised those who entered private universities. He agreed that 3,5 GPA reached in private universities could be considered as an equal of 2,5 GPA reached in public universities. He described how low the quality of private  universities is (according to him). He cited that those who entered private universities simply retarded, etc etc. I do not have to elaborate any further, do I?
I do not understand how someone who 'so-called-genius' enough to enter public university could turn out to be all cocky and shallow.

I can not say there is not any jots of proud in me regarding my university entrance, but to be that conceited... I must have disgusted with myself.

Now, now, if you say that perhaps those who got accepted had worked harder than anyone who failed (so they may deserve to show some vanity), I am very sorry to say I have to object your very opinion.
I might be the person with the lowest effort among anyone I know, and please do note that I am not trying to be modest here... Really. I feel so undeserving compared to how hard my friends worked out for this.

If you say that perhaps those who got accepted had stronger fighting spirit compared to the rest, I must say that I have, most probably, worst competitive mentality ever. I tend to experience some kind of... mentality breakdown right before the D-day. I cried the night before the day of written test in National Science Olympic. Similar thing happened on the night of July 30th. Thanks to my bf who seems to always know the right words to console me.

If you say that perhaps those who got accepted had intenser will to get into their dream university, I... Nah, you would not say that, would you? We all know that all of the SNMPTN participants dying to be enrolled (A bit exaggerating, but more or less so. You get my point.)

The thing is... after elaborating this much I still am not certain why on earth I got accepted.
Guess I merely am lucky. And that motivates me not to spill this opportunity.

Sincerely hoping that it will do that to you too.





P. S. : To those who did not get accepted yet, you are definitely not plainly dumb. I really am wishing for the best regarding the result of your upcoming/past written test :)

Literally Babbling

Nggak bermaksud ngeluh, tapi...
Pernah nggak kalian ngalamin suatu kejadian, di mana seluruh alurnya dari awal sampai sesaat sebelum akhir begitu bahagia? Lalu momen indah yang terakumulasi itu, mendadak lenyap, hancur, tercecer, tercincang-cincang--apa sajalah terserah kalian--karena sebuah keputusan yang salah untuk mengakhiri hari itu dengan sempurna?

Kayak semacem... Kalian nonton film yang bagus, cantik banget keseluruhan alurnya, setiap adegannya pas, tapi endingnya bikin kalian teriak, "Eh eh kok gini sih akhirannya?! APA-APAAN NIH? Balikin tiket gue!" (ceritanya nonton di bioskop)

Kayak semacem... Kalian lihat ada cewek cantik banget. Beh nggak ada deh cewek secantik itu. Putih, mulus, .... *isi titik-titik sesuai imajinasi pribadi*. Tapi ternyata... dulunya laki. #eh

Saya pernah. Sekarang lagi mengalami, tepatnya. Terus keselnya sampe ke ubun-ubun. Entah ini pengaruh PMS atau nggak, saya jadi over-sensitif, (ya, tidak perlu canggung sama sekali menyinggung PMS karena itu seratus persen normal, cing!), yang jelas saya benar-benar.... HUH! HAH! HUH HAH!
Na nanana nana nanana
Eh... itu lagu Best Friend - ToyBox ya.
Intinya, semacem gondok gitu.

Entahlah. Saya nggak tau sekarang jadinya saya maunya apa.
Minta maaf itu klise.
Janji itu usang.
Tekad itu basi.
Omongan itu kosong.
Memutar balik waktu itu di luar logika.

Sebenarnya saya punya pilihan, ketika momen terakhir itu akan datang. Tapi kalau saya menolak, rasanya sama saja. Cuma masalahnya di sini, pihak mana yang bakal dipuaskan, dan yang lain harus dikecewakan.

...Kalau menolak, akan dikata tidak logis. Yang tadinya bukan masalah, sekarang kenapa dibesar-besarkan?
Saya tidak bisa menjawab.
Ah Bung, orang akan selalu berpatok pada masa lalu kan? Tidak pernah ada ruang untuk perubahan. Tidak. Apa yang kamu lakukan, itu akan menelurkan stigma yang selamanya menempel padamu. Entah kamu bertahan atau membuatnya semakin parah. Tidak. Ada. Perbaikan.

Kalau lagi kayak ini... saya merasa... cuma tulisan lah yang bisa jadi pelarian.
Lihat, huruf-huruf yang saya susun jadi serangkaian kalimat dan paragraf. Cantik, kan? Mereka tidak mendengar, tapi bercerita. Yang akan dibaca orang. Entah kenapa, itu mengurangi beban saya. Orang selalu merasa lebih baik ketika mereka tahu ada orang yang tahu pula tentang masalah mereka kan? Kita, manusia, memang makhluk yang suka cari perhatian.

Bingung?
Sama, saya juga bingung.
Kamu bingung.
Dia bingung.
Mereka bingung.
Semua bingung.
Dan saya tidak akan repot-repot menjelaskan. Biar kita tenggelam bersama dalam kebingungan ini.
Kompak gitu loh.

Bung, ini pasti tulisan saya yang paling tidak terstruktur sepanjang masa. Korelasinya apa coba antar paragraf... Ha ha ha. Saya lebih mirip orang mengigau.

Ya, mengigau.

Habis ini saya bakal meringkuk, menggulung diri, memeluk guling, menampar diri sendiri kalau bisa.
Dan semoga besok pagi saya bangun dengan otak yang lebih waras
dan sadar bahwa ini ledakan hormon belaka.

In Between: Reality and Fantasy

Kemarin malam, terus kemarin-marinnya lagi, saya iseng browsing Wikipedia.org sebelum tidur, bagian in the news. Lewat artikel '2011 Syrian Uprising', saya jadi tahu kalau setelah Mesir, Tunisia, sekarang giliran Syria yang ngalamin pergolakan politik (ketahuan nggak pernah nonton berita). Orang-orang demo di mana-mana, nuntut perubahan.

Tapi di artikel itu ada yang lebih menarik buat saya dibanding tentang ribut-ributnya itu sendiri: sebuah blog.
Ciee mentang-mentang blogger....
Bukan, bukan gara-gara itu.

Mungkin kalian sudah tahu (atau jangan-jangan... emang cuma saya yang baru tahu),
judul blog itu 'A Gay Girl In Damascus'.

Judulnya saja sudah bikin penasaran kan.
Ya, blog ini isinya curhatan seorang wanita yang mengaku bernama Amina, kelahiran Amerika-Syria, lesbian, dan tinggal di Syria. Postingnya kebanyakan komentar tentang perjuangan Syria dalam mencapai kemerdekaan dilihat dari sudut pandang warga sipil, juga tentang kondisi sosial di sana. Apalagi dengan statusnya sebagai lesbian. Di negara yang nganut Islam konservatif. Bisa-bisa dihukum pancung.

Dan ya, blognya menarik perhatian banyak orang. Salah satu postingnya yang terkenal adalah 'My father, the hero'. Di sini Amina cerita tentang bagaimana sang ayah melindungi dia dari dua petugas keamanan yang mau nahan dia karena tulisan-tulisannya. Oh, bukan berniat nahan aja sebetulnya, tapi juga ngancem mau memperkosa. Tapi ayahnya, tanpa adu otot apalagi senjata, berhasil 'memukul' mundur dua orang itu.

Setelah posting itu, popularitas blog itu melonjak.
Orang-orang memuji keberanian Amina untuk terus bersuara lewat tulisan-tulisannya. Orang-orang merasakan perjuangannya. Orang-orang bersimpati untuknya. Dukungan datang dari berbagai penjuru, baik dari mereka yang peduli isu di Timur Tengah maupun dari kaum LGBT. Karena itu, mereka luar biasa cemas, bahkan marah, ketika tanggal 6 Juni, Amina dikabarkan telah diculik.

Pada 7 Juni, 10.000 orang terkumpul di gerakan 'The Free Amina Arraf' di Facebook dalam waktu semalam. Malah sampai ada seorang jurnalis sampai memohon keterlibatan pemerintah U.S. dalam pembebasan Amina Arraf.

"U.S. government should...use its power and influence to call for Arraf's release." - Andrew Belonsky, Brooklyn Journalist

Respon yang heboh.

Kamu kira itu puncaknya? Belum. Karena pada tanggal 8 Juni, ada seorang wanita Kroasia, Jelena Lecic, yang mengklaim bahwa foto diri Amina Arraf yang dipajang di blog dan diberitakan di media sebenarnya adalah foto dirinya....

Jeger.

Ya. Amina Arraf yang dicemaskan, dibela, dielu-elukan banyak orang, yang kisah hidupnya menjadi inspirasi banyak golongan, ternyata cuma HOAX. Tidak nyata. Karakter buatan.
Penulis asli blog itu adalah Tom MacMaster, warga negara Amerika, dan sama sekali bukan gay. Dia mengaku bahwa ia membuat karakter Amina supaya ia lebih bebas berkomentar dan berdiskusi tentang isu Timur Tengah, dan sama sekali tidak menyangka tokoh fiktifnya itu akan sefenomenal ini.

Plot penculikan Amina? MacMaster menulisnya supaya orang-orang tidak bingung atas absennya tulisan di blog itu selama dirinya berlibur ke Turki.

Brilian.

Saya tidak perlu cerita seberapa tidak senang dan kecewanya kaum LGBT, penduduk Syria, dan segenap pendukungnya atas fakta itu. Merasa tertipu.

"If [MacMaster] had not been so emotionally resonant, so detailed, so seemingly 'real,' nobody would have cared so much when Amina disappeared, and nobody would have worked so hard to figure out what might have happened to her, and nobody would have learned that she was a pale man from Georgia. Which meant that, at least according to a chilling and narrow definition of what it means to be real on the Internet, Tom MacMaster was very good indeed at being Amina." - Monica Hesse, Washington Post

Saya bukan termasuk mereka yang dikecewakan itu. Saya tahu tentang ini setelah Amina terbukti hoax. Jadinya saya cuma bisa kagum sama MacMaster, betapa tulisannya bisa mengecoh banyak orang.
Dan untuk yang kesekian kalinya saya mikir, betapa kuat pengaruh dari sebuah tulisan.

Entah kenapa MacMaster mutusin buat nulis ini di blog. Mungkin biar lebih nyata. Atau sekedar supaya bisa bertukar pendapat. Padahal kalau dia nulis di buku, saya rasa orang-orang nggak bakal semarah itu kalau tahu Amina nggak nyata. Dan lagi, penulis tetap saja bisa menipiskan batas nyata dan tidak.

Misalnya novel The Kite Runner, yang banyak nyinggung kondisi perang dan sosial di Afghanistan.

ini poster filmnya

Entah saya yang masih anak bawang, belum pernah baca novel sebagus itu, atau memang Khaled Hosseini yang kelewat jago, tapi dulu saya sempet mikir: tokoh Amir itu beneran ada nggak ya? Belakangan saya sadar itu fiktif, tapi konflik perang, datangnya Taliban, rendahnya status sosial perempuan di sana, itu fakta.

J. K. Rowling juga, menyelipkan fiksi di antara fakta, fakta di antara fiksi, peron 9 3/4 di antara peron 9 dan 10, membangun dunianya sendiri di atas dasar kepercayaan orang atas sesuatu yang diyakini telah ada: penyihir.

Meski kita tahu kalau sebagian besar cerita Harry Potter itu karangan belaka, rasanya kita ingin percaya kalau dunia itu benar-benar ada.

Mau ngaku sedikit...

Pembaca Harry Potter pasti tahu kalau setiap anak-anak yang punya bakat sihir pasti dikirimin surat saat mereka umur 11 tahun. Surat pemberitahuan bahwa mereka masuk Hogwarts, yang dianter burung hantu.

Nah...

Dulu menjelang saya ulang tahun yang ke-11, saya setengah ngarep beneran ada burung hantu yang mampir ke jendela rumah saya (ya, ketawa sesuka kalian). Setelah ulang tahun ke-12, harapan saya pupus.

Ternyata saya cuma Muggle biasa.

 Tapi, hei, ternyata saya nggak sendirian! Saya pernah baca tentang orang-orang yang berkali-kali mencoba menabrakkan diri ke tiang di antara peron 9 dan 10 di King's Cross, berharap bisa nembus ke peron 9 3/4, meskipun udah berkali-kali ditegur sama petugas stasiun. Sampai akhirnya betul-betul dipasang palang 'Platform 9 3/4' di tiang itu. Hahaha... Seenggaknya saya nggak sampai kayak gitu kan? Ya kan? Kan?

Menulis itu menciptakan fantasi, dan mempertipis batasnya dengan kenyataan.
Saya salut buat penulis yang bisa menarik pembacanya ke dalam dunia yang mereka ciptakan, membuat pembacanya percaya apa yang mereka tuliskan, mempengaruhi pembacanya dengan apa yang mereka pikirkan.

Saya mau jadi salah satunya.
Dan akan jadi salah satunya (AMIN!)






- Kronologi lengkap 'A Gay Girl In Damascus' versi wikipedia: ini

- Berhubung 'A Gay Girl In Damascus' udah ditutup, bagi yang penasaran sama posting 'My Father, The Hero', bisa lihat salinan postingannya di sini :) 



image source image source image source

Hail, Writers!

Tadi saya habis nonton Mata Najwa, yang malam ini ngebahas tentang dunia persepakbolaan di Indonesia.

Tepatnya, membuka seberapa kotor konspirasi di dunia bola.

Bukannya berarti saya rajin ngikutin perkembangan persepakbolaan Indo, tapi saya memang suka nonton Mata Najwa kalo kebetulan lagi tayang, karena biasanya ulasannya menarik, membuka wawasan baru, dan terkadang fenomenal...

...seperti hari ini. Eh, fenomenal atau nggak-nya itu subjektif ya. Bagi saya sih begitu, karena saya baru dengar. Saya baru tahu kalau keputusan wasit itu bisa dibeli. Malah tadi si narasumber bilang, dia berani jamin bahwa 99,99 % wasit pasti mau nerima suap.

Saya cuma bisa ngurut dada.

Profesi yang bisa 'dibeli' itu nggak asing di Indonesia. Hakim yang disuap, pengacara yang disuap, wartawan yang disuap... Sekarang ini lagi, bahkan wasit pun bisa disuap!
Kalau hakim atau pengacara saya ngerti lah (ngerti ya, bukan memaklumi), karena itu menyangkut kriminal, salah-salah kena denda, masuk penjara. Kalau wartawan... mereka punya kekuatan ngendaliin opini publik, membongkar borok, dan membuka aib. Wajar aja kalau dikasih uang biar tutup mulut.
Tapi ini wasit? Profesi yang berkaitan dengan notabene sekedar permainan? Walaupun kita tahu, sepakbola di sini diwarnai kepentingan politik. Duh, please lah ya....

Terus, saya ngomel-ngomel soal ini ke pacar.
Dia merespon, "Aku jadi mikir, di Indo apa coba yang bersih?"

Well... Entahlah. Saya nggak sepesimis itu sih tentang negara kita. Jelek jelek juga kita tinggal dan cari makan di sini. Walaupun negeri ini banyak boroknya, saya tetap punya harapan kok kalau luka-luka itu bakal sembuh. Biarin kalau orang bilang saya naif.

Tapi setiap dengar berita semacam ini, rasanya jengkal demi jengkal harapan yang saya punya dikikis habis. Saya nggak mau percaya, tapi ini fakta. Kecuali, tentu saja, kalau ini rekayasa belaka.

Kalau nanti negara kita benar-benar berubah ke arah yang lebih baik, saya penginnya ikut terlibat, ambil peran.  Dengan apa? Ikut berpolitik? Tidak, tidak, saya tidak mau profesi yang ribet dengan birokrasi. Birokrasi kita itu sampah. Kamu masuk sebagai orang idealis, berharap bisa mengubah semuanya, tapi ujung-ujungnya juga kena tekanan sosial. Kamu dikatai aneh kalau tidak korupsi, dikatai bodoh kalau tidak terima suap.

Namun, tidak dengan penulis. Penulis cukup duduk manis, jadi pengamat, nulis pendapat. Bisa sambil menghibur, bisa sambil mengkritik.

Misalnya kayak penulis ternama, Putu Wijaya. Saya pertama kali tahu tentangnya dari buku kumpulan cerpen di perpustakaan. Waktu itu saya baca cerpennya yang berjudul 'Suap' dan saya langsung suka. Kemarin-marin saya baru tahu kalau beliau punya blog yang isinya kumpulan cerpen yang ia tulis (eh ya kemana aja lo....). Di situ saya sadar, Putu Wijaya ahli sekali menyisipkan puntiran (twist) di akhir cerita. Meskipun kebanyakan cerpennya bertema sosial, nuansa ceritanya sama sekali tidak membosankan, karena kritik sosial di dalamnya disampaikan lewat dialog-dialog cerdas. Menghibur, tapi konstruktif.

Kelihatan kan. Apa yang ditulis penulis, itulah manifestasi pikirannya, cerminan dirinya. Gamblang. Suka ya suka, nggak ya nggak. Penulis tidak mungkin dicap bermuka dua. Mana pengaruhnya besar pula. Kurang enak apalagi coba?


Itulah, kenapa saya ngebet jadi penulis.

Be careful of what you wished for

Dulu, sebelum saya kepikiran buat ambil jurnalistik, saya yakin seyakin-yakinnya kalo saya bakal kuliah DKV, alias desain grafis. Karena itu, pastinya saya punya deviantART dong. Mana gaul gitu (calon) anak DKV gak punya deviantART? *halah

Tadi saya gak sengaja kebuka profil temen saya di deviantART. Ada comment saya di situ.
Di situ saya baru keinget kalo dulu saya punya signature (pesan yang bakal muncul di bawah setiap comment) kayak gini:

I wish I would die in plane crash someday.

Terus saya merinding. Saya lupa apa yang waktu itu membuat saya nulis kayak gitu. Saya langsung buru-buru login dan hapus signature saya.

Mungkin waktu itu saya tidak sadar bahwa kematian itu bukan hal main-main. Setelah umur saya bertambah, satu per satu orang yang saya kenal meninggal (sejauh ini belum orang yang benar-benar dekat dengan saya dan semoga dalam waktu dekat ini, jangan), saya mulai merasa bahwa hidup, betapapun mumet dan menyiksanya dia, itu terlalu indah untuk diharapkan supaya segera berakhir. Malah, menurut saya sebenarnya kadar kebahagiaan dalam hidup itu ditentukan kita, perspektif yang kita pilih sendiri. Makanya, sekarang saya sebel kalo denger orang ngomong, "Aduh hidup kok begini sih. Rasanya pengen mati aja deh."
It is not life which is being cruel to you, it is you that failed to see good things in life but yet trying to escape it through easiest way, coward.

Oh ya..... Saya tahu suatu hari nanti, entah kapan dan gimana caranya, saya bakal menyublim ke surga, neraka, atau mungkin malah ke dalam ketiadaan. Tapi, percayalah, kecelakaan pesawat itu hal terakhir yang saya bayangin bakal jadi cara saya meninggal.


....semoga semesta tidak mendengar permohonan saya yang hina itu.