perfectlyimperfect

Siapa engkau? Kau tak tahu siapa aku Jauhnya jalan sudah aku lalu Banyaknya liku sudah aku tempuh Lelahnya terluka tersungkur terjatuh Kau tiba waktu aku sudah di akhir garisan Melangkah longlai seksa sendirian Sesudah aku mencuba, mengalah, menyalah Tuhan Setelah aku berkira untuk keseorangan Aku merangkak mula dari dasar terdalam Kau meluru bagai batu angkasa yang menghujan Apa kau mahu buat aku terbungkam direjam Apa ku mahu tak tertafsir terfaham terujar Kau dan aku Tak mungkin menjadi kita

At the very instance between life and death, I found out that I did not think of God. Okay, now that I already started an entry with a statement that can excite brouhaha from the likes of Ibrahim Ali and the other malays-only Islamic party (ahem) , let me ask you to hold your judgement until I made my point. So, hear me out. It took a car accident for me to realize that I will not be thinking of God in life-threatening situations, or more accurately I will probably not say His name if I'm going to die a sudden death. Heck, I didn't even think "I'm going to die." Because as amazing as we claimed our human brains to be, they just shut off when dealing things like this. Trillions of synapses and none of them sparked a good reaction, neither that can save my life (pull the handbreak!) or save my afterlife (shout Allahuakbar!). The accident happened right in front of Mines. A lot of roads diverging and converging there, a lot of cars were on the road, and a lot

Bila bibir kita berbicara tentang dosa-dosa silam Yang tersulam dengan keterlanjuran jiwa Langsung tertawa kita mengenang kebodohan dulu Bodoh memilih cinta Bodoh melayan rindu Bodoh menilai dusta Bodoh menurut nafsu Here we are again in your car. Our little miserable space. A district of fools, population two. Yet this is home, this is perfect. In this enclosed space, we locked everything outside to the point that they don't matter. Like we're at the VIP seats of an outdoor cinema playing reruns we don't bother to watch.   Bounded in this compound of metal and glass, we feel safe to pour our hearts out. And the acoustic here; it's almost pillow talk quality, whether it's because you literally have pillows in the car is debatable. It echoes our voices, resonates our emotions, and amplifies the weight of our conversation. We set the mood with some Yuna, and then we're off.  It is always the same, the things we talk about. If someone is

I longed for the time when things are simpler, when the future doesn’t matter, the past is not a bother. I longed for them because I have little memory of those moments. I realized that I had no recollection of my past when I chat with a friend about us growing up. It’s a scary thought, that everything I know will fade to black, into the abyss of forgetfulness. And that everything I do remember will either be unimportant, hurtful, or at best embarrassing. That everything I love will be something I used to love. When did it happened, from loving someone to loved someone?  How can someone so essential, now just a stranger. How did my heart decide it’s time to move on, to let go? My mind to forget, to suppress? Because we are different now? I’m sure we have more now than what we had the first time we met. Because we have more uncommon things now? Because we now know we are capable to hate each other? I thought love is the strongest force in the universe. How come l