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Sunstroke
Going back to Blackwater, the danger was supposed to be Pinkertons.
Bounty hunters, maybe. Anyone foolish enough to recognize him, to see his crimes and dare approach him.
Never the Del Lobos.
Never the sun, burning overhead.
But when, last, had one of Dutch's plans gone right?
Chapter 1 - a wilting flower Chapter 2 - to sneak through Chapter 3 - the dangers of being a del lobo
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The name is moon. She doesn’t have her own light. She’s imperfect. But she’s proud. She’s collected. She’s loving herself. And she knows peo
(A Note) For Sunday Boy
Dear you,
Now that you’re finally there, at the top of that hill you’ve always dreamt about, with her, the one you always love; please send my regards to the wind, send them my gratitude for always whispering my prayers to you, for you to find your happiness.
Tell them I couldn’t thank them enough for always whispering my love to you, while you’re shouting your love to her.
Much love, Monday girl
Semacam Surat Cinta Untukmu
Teruntuk kamu yang mungkin sedang senyum-senyum kecil memandangi layar handphone karena banyak chat masuk dari mereka yang pernah mengaku jatuh hati padamu, meskipun aku tidak ada disana, tapi membayangkanmu tersenyum saja sudah membuatku bahagia. Meskipun kau balas pesan mereka dengan menyertakan bunga-bunga yang membuat mereka terbang dan berharap tinggi, dan aku tidak disana, tapi membayangkanmu memikirkan gombalan selanjutnya saja sudah membuatku tertawa kecil. Aku tidak disana, tapi aku senang aku pernah disana. Teruntuk kamu yang mungkin sedang sibuk surfing sana sini demi menyusun kata-kata indah untuk kemudian kau modifikasi sedemikian rupa sebagai mahakarya-mu, meskipun tidak buatku, tapi membaca tulisan-tulisanmu cukup membuatku berenang menyelami duniamu. Meskipun mungkin satu dua orang sedikit protes karna kau gunakan hak karyanya, dan bukan buatku, tapi membayangkanmu ada di dalam tulisanmu cukup membuatku terbenam haru, karna sosok setegar kamu sebenarnya mempunyai hati yang kecil dan rapuh, dan kau menjaganya dengan sangat sangat, tidak ingin kembali terjatuh dan pecah. Bukan buatku, tapi aku senang kamu pernah merasakan itu. Teruntuk kamu yang mungkin sedang memutar otak sekeras-kerasnya supaya bisa membuat orang kembali memberikan standing ovation dan memujamu, meskipun bukan aku, tapi percayalah tanpamu berusaha pun aku sudah mengagumimu, dari sini. Meskipun terkadang, oh sepertinya seringkali, kamu terlalu berlebihan dalam menciptakan citra yang sangat majestic demi dikagumi oleh mereka yang menyembahmu, dan bukan aku, tapi dibalik itu semua ada sosok bocah lelaki kecil yang sangat ingin dicintai dengan tulus, dan tidak tau bagaimana caranya. Bukan aku, tapi aku senang setidaknya aku pernah jujur padamu, bahwa aku mencintai kamu apa adanya, tanpa embel embel itu semua. Teruntuk kamu yang mungkin sedang bingung dan tidak tau apa yang sebenarnya kamu inginkan, beristirahatlah. Apa kamu tidak capek, menjadi seseorang yang bukan kamu? Atau, apa kamu tidak capek, menjadi kamu yang sekarang? Beristirahatlah sayang, hari masih panjang. Toh mereka akan tetap kagum denganmu, karena namamu. Toh aku akan tetap kagum denganmu, karena kamu.
Headstroke #10
Lately I’ve been thinking, about how different we are. For some, it might be good, but others might see it as a disaster. And I’ve been wondering, if we would see it as both. Perhaps.
But your mind is a maze. It’s a mystery which even sometimes you couldn’t figure it out. I didn’t know what’s on your head and I will never know. I couldn’t read your mind like I do to everyone else. Maybe it’s you who lock it like a treasure chest only special one could open it, or maybe it’s my brain stop working everytime I try to dive you. Or maybe both.
We’re not A, nor B. We’re all the alphabets. When I say A you would say B, when you say C I would say D, but sometimes we say the same. There never be any exact pattern, there never be any formula. And we would always guess.
But baby, I could be tired too. I could be tired of assuming.
So now please tell me, baby. If everytime I stay, you would stay too, then if I say goodbye, would you say goodbye too?
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I’m not hoping that you’ll lose yourself in me.
But I will be blessed, if maybe someday, just maybe, you’ll find yourself in me.
Just like I found my truly self in you.
I’m deleting all the chat history of us, so I won’t re-read them and I won’t be trapped in our nostalgic conversations. I’m deleting all the pictures of us, so I won’t open them and I won’t go back to those moments. Baby don’t you see that I am trying, to keep going on. Just like what you wanted, that’s what you said you wanted. But all you do, is just keep making the new ones, so no matter how much I delete they keep coming up.
Now please do something else for me, dear. Please make up your mind.
Headstroke #7
I remember the time when I was mad at you for mocking my boyfriend long time ago. I hate how you love yourself and how you judge others. I hate how you’re so proud of yourself and only care about what you do to make people love you. I remember the time when I hate you, for a moment.
I remember the time when I feel sorry for you, of all your sad stories, of how someone could torn your heart, which I first thought you don’t have one. Behind those laughter I saw sorrow. Behind those glasses I saw dry tears. I once thought that someone like you couldn’t get a broken heart. I remember the time when I feel sorry for you, for a moment.
I remember the time when I feel guilty, of saying rude words to you. You’re hurting someone back then, even when I always remind you that she is a good girl and she doesn’t deserve to be treated like that. You told me you just don’t know what to do. And I only told you to remember your name, that you should’ve been a guiding light. And I still remember your face back then. I remember the time I feel guilty, for a moment.
I remember the time I feel overwhelmed, of all the sweet things you did. Just a simple kiss before I go to sleep, or a big smile when I open my eyes in the morning, or acting like you care about me, or even when you’re just mopey like a spoiled baby boy. I know it costs you your pride, which I know it’s priceless, but you did it. And I feel happy. I feel warm. I feel overjoyed. I was high of you. I remember the time I was overwhelmed, for a moment.
I’m thrilled of how you could make me feel a lot of things at the very same moment.
I remember the time when I was amazed, of your surprisingly wise mind. When I don’t know what I’m doing, when I don’t know what to do, when I don’t know what should I do. You told me that life is about choices. My stories depend on the choices I made. If I want to make a good story, I should make a good choice. Either I wanna make a good story for a long time, or for just a moment.
So now could you tell me, Sir, have you make any choices?
