A lot of people tend to romanticize intelligence. they see it as something interesting; a trait a person should have in a job, in friendship, in a partner. but most people are not ready to face what intelligence really is. more often than not, it comes with isolation.

because intelligent people tend to question things. they tend to see beyond, to seek meaning. and at a certain point, that questioning turns inward. it becomes a confrontation with themselves, questioning their purpose, their existence.

i believe most people are intelligent in different ways. there are many types of intelligence: spatial, musical, logical, linguistic. fundamentally, people are intelligent in their own nature. but intelligence often comes with isolation because it requires looking deeper, seeking beyond, questioning even things we have already agreed to accept.

i believe intelligence goes hand in hand with self-reflection. and thats what people are scared of. most people dont look deeper because at some point it becomes self-confrontation. it becomes a threat, to question the status quo, to question your life, to ask whether where you are is really what you want, whether anything even makes sense at all. thats where intelligence stops being glamorous.

theres this idea that intelligent people are elitist, that they dont fit well into society because they think theyre better than others. i dont think thats the case. i think its because not everyone wants to be with them. its exhausting, the constant questioning, the constant search for meaning. its not even a choice, they cant help it. their mind tires them.

at least, thats how it is for me. im not saying im intelligent. im saying i notice a pattern in how i think. i look deeper. i question meaning. i ask why things the way they are. and i cant help it, it comes naturally. people tell me not everything has to have a logical explanation, but it has to, right? there must be an explanation for everything.

oftentimes I do wonder which part of the world I'd end up in had I been born into a more functional family. had I just needed to be a typical, ordinary daughter, had I just been an ordinary friend, with conventional life?

yet it is also worth considering, had I not been the way I have been, will I still be.... me? the one that I am now, typing this?

there are times when I'd envy those who can achieve their full potential, knowing that fate more often than not, always been in their favor. I'd compare myself to them, me now, beating all the odds, standing here despite everything. could I have done better, aimed higher, had fate had more mercy on me?

instead of just some abstract concept.

I’d forge it into armor to shield you from pain,

I’d sew it into a fuzzy blanket to warm you on the coldest night.

I’d build a soundproof room to enclose you,

protecting you from the hurtful things you say to yourself.

we once had jasmine and roses at my grandparents' home, thriving under grandma's care. but she passed, they followed her stay, fragrance fading from the old childhood home.

the late-night calls, the smile on your face, the way you give off full attention when I am telling you how my life's been.

I love us. I love how we genuinely care about each other's life, well-being, and growth. I love how you always encourage me and how I always wish for things to work out well for you.

I love us. The fact that we didn't have to text each other every day but always have time to see each other whenever we need to. The fact that we didn't interfere on one another but we always know what was going on in one's life.

I love us. It surprises me how honest I can be when I'm talking to you. How much I compromised for something I never did to others. How I can always point out whenever you did something I don't like and you are always cool with that. Though there are times when I wished that you would've fought back or at least disagree with me.

I love us but I still couldn't conclude do I like you, or do I just like the idea of us? This kind of feeling is weird. It's not the usual sparkly explosive butterflies that drive you to want more. Or the panicky excitement whenever you're with them. It's the soothing, calming, wholly accepted feeling, something like when there's a storm outside and you walked into a sound-proofed room, all the noises suddenly fade away once you see that person.

i have always been wanting to be a robot ever since i learned how robot works. it's fascinates me. being able to function without experiencing any kind of emotions.

"to live is to feel" they said. living and feeling, these are mutually inclusive. you can't live without experiencing feelings, and in order to feel, you have to live.

truth is, no one ever really told you that feelings is overwhelming. it's not always a bad things, though. seeing a child being excited over a simple present, the joy of having a decent food after a long-tiring day, the excitement on the night before school picnic day, and some other things that I haven't really experience as I grew older.

the older I am, the more i realized that adulting is one of the hardest thing to do—or to face. it's inevitable, yet until now i haven't find a guide book on how to be an adult, or like adulting 101. maybe we should start making that.

it's full of surprises. as far as i can remember, when i was a child i mostly feel safe, or more like couldn't care less. getting up every day and going to school is just a routine, something that wouldn't bother you except for the homework.

adulting is everything but constant. no one ever told me that adulting is going to bed being scared to death that you're gonna have to wake up tomorrow and face reality, the anxiety is already soaring even before you start actually doing things.

adulting is being overwhelmingly sad, but one second later you could be laughing on how ridiculously unserious life is.

adulting is pushing people away from your life simply because you don't want to drag people you care about onto your negativity, but also crying in the corner of your room at 3 am wishing you have someone to lean on.

adulting is going to work every day yet also questioning whether this is actually what you really want to do.

adulting is not wanting to do whatever you're doing right now but you have to because simply you don't have any other choices, which is really, very ironic. when i was kid, i really want to be an adult because i thought i would finally be able to free myself from parents telling me what to do.

"are you okay?" I was commuting back from office and still thinking about that question. As I stare into the crowds, I see a lot of faces hiding their own stories. Office workers, dads, moms, students, everyone with their own struggle.

"are you okay?" What is being okay, anyway? Over the past few months I am not doing well but I managed to survive, live day to day and do all my responsibilities. Does it means I am okay? How about the unreasonable fear I have everytime I go to bed, and waking up feeling extremely tired and anxious, every single day?

"are you okay?" I almost burst into laugh if I'm not aware that I'm in public place. But really, this is amusing. I'm so used to this fearful and unhappy situation that I can't even tell whether I'm okay or not.

"fall in love, you'll be the happiest one could ever be", they said.

"don't fall in love, love fools you", some say.

twenty-four years and three months old, today I still couldn't comprehend what love is. "you'll understand once you found one." well isn't that weird? we can understand some things before we even find it. like i know what a ghost is yet i haven't found one.

both are intangible. both are claimed to be true by most. both are driven by hormones and what fascinates me is that both could be entirely different things depending on who perceived what.

you might claim you saw a ghost, yet there is also a possibility that you're just exhausted and got a blurry vision.

you might think that you're in love, but what if it's only an obsession? or lust? or infatuation? or attachment?

from what I heard, being in love is when you're in a constant supply of happiness hormones, be it oxytocin, dopamine, or serotonin. those hormones can also be released from other inputs, like listening to music, cooking, watching movies, splurging on some fancy things, you name it. truth is, where do we draw the line? when do we know that we love this person in particular, amongst others whom we had a crush on, or liked, or had an obsession with?

i've met a few people in my life and it would be a lie that i have never developed any feelings for some. but i couldn't really conclude what kind of sympathetic feelings i have for them unless i passed that phase, because most of the time, those "sympathy" affects my objective thought.

well, Rick says that love is a chemical reaction that compels animals to breed. it hits hard, then it slowly fades, leaving you stranded in a failing marriage.

come to think about it, that made sense. love fades, as for some other things we lost interest in. i used to love fiction novels a lot, but now i don't. i used to hate cooking, but now i love it.

"when you love someone, you try to make it work" hold on, shouldn't love to be effortless? i mean, i get it that relationship needs maintenance. but if it's too much maintenance, why didn't we walk out of it and try with another person as it "costs" less?

i believe we instinctively choose what is easier. as if for our bodies. hormones are proteins (some lipids). and in a biochemical system, pathways which required less energy are more favorable to happen. human functions from a complex biochemical system so we couldn't be any different.

maintaining a relationship is hard. it might be true that love drives people to try to make it work. but again, which love? the love for your significant other, the love for the routines you were accustomed to, the love for how people think what a great couple you made, which really, is it a "love" love?

im too much of a chaos for your order.

filled with adrenaline and joy

when everything looks so tempting, intoxicating

the euphoria drains you

and before you know it,

menjadi ibu adalah profesi yang tidak ada sertifikasinya, padahal pekerjaan ini sulit sekali. harus bangun pagi-pagi, menyiapkan sarapan hingga makan malam, berangkat kerja, membersihkan rumah, kemudian pulang ke rumah dan disambut dengan anak-anaknya yang bertengkar karena hal sepele. menghadapi anak yang harus diuruskan segala hal ketika kecil untuk kemudian diteriaki anak remajanya yang menganggap ibu tidak mengerti perasaannya. padahal ibu juga pernah menjadi remaja.

tidak sedikit ibu yang juga disakiti suaminya. entah diselingkuhi, dipukul, atau disalahkan karena dianggap tidak becus mendidik anaknya. padahal tugas mendidik anak adalah tugas berdua.

yang membuatku heran adalah kebanyakan ibu membalas perilaku anak dan suaminya dengan doa. doa-doa baik yang tidak pernah luput dipanjatkan ke tuhan, selalu terucap seiring nafas. aku rasa satu-satunya hal yang kadang luput didoakan ibu adalah kebahagiaannya sendiri. padahal doa ibu adalah keajaiban.

hal lain yang membuatku heran adalah meskipun tidak ada sertifikasinya, kebanyakan ibu sukses menjadi ibu yang baik. ibu memang ajaib, jiwanya tegar sekuat batu, tapi hatinya lembut seperti permen kapas.

kadang aku heran mengapa masih banyak perempuan yang ingin menjadi ibu. ini profesi dengan kontrak paling lama, tidak ada hari libur, tidak ada tunjangan hari raya maupun tunjangan pensiun, juga tidak ada bonus tahunan. meskipun aku yakin sekali, jika tidak ada ibu, dunia akan hancur berantakan, setidaknya duniaku.

hari-hari rasanya sama sejak sesak hidup di dalamku. menangis hingga terlelap, dengan harap tiada matahari esok hari. namun pagi selalu datang, dan terus seperti itu.

sesak. hari-hari dengan sesak seakan lebih panjang dari biasanya. meskipun tidak bisa kukatakan, kemarin, hari ini, atau besok, atau satu minggu pun, hari-hari rasanya sama sejak sesak hidup di dalamku.

sesak ku. sesak di dalamku. sesak di ulu hatiku. atau sesak di otak ku?

you are the void that stays inside me

draining yet fulfilling

enchanting yet terrifying

it took me a decade to realize

that you are never been a person.

you are an abstract concept

divine, but imaginary.