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Whether it's a stubborn or hopeless grip.

It's never how do I, it's how can I. 

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4 Tahun

4 tahun.  Lama juga, ya. Harusnya, satu tahun ke depan, kamu bakal banyak ngomel ke aku soal dosen pembimbing kamu, sebanyak aku ngeluh ke kamu soal Malang yang semakin macet, bensin mahal dan ngga ada Vivo. Aku juga kebayang kalo kita wisuda bareng. Nanti aku ke Bogor, terus gantian kamu ke Malang. Aku bakal bawa jas supaya kita bisa foto studio disana. Lucu kali, ya. Jadi inget waktu wisuda SMP, waktu aku masih dipelototin ayah kamu, tuh. Aku juga jadi inget waktu kita kelas 12 SMA. Belajar seharian sambil pesen makan. Kamu paling sebel kalo aku udah ketiduran. Terus, kamu bakal manggil mama supaya aku auto bangun dan belajar beneran. Ohiya, mama masih suka ngomongin kamu loh, Lan. Kamu sih, lulus duluan.  Hehe. Ngga banyak yang terjadi dari terakhir kali aku kesini, satu tahun yang lalu. Aku minta maaf ya, Lan, karena jarang pulang. Setelah lulus nanti, aku bakal cari kerja di Bogor, kok. Biar bisa ketemu kamu. Aku juga udah berhenti ngerokok loh, Lan. Pindah vape gapapa, y...
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Maybe someday, or next week, I’ll finally forget you.

Because today, I still love you. Maybe it’s not even you anymore, but the version of you I kept safe in my head. Maybe that’s why the feeling still stays like they haven't heard the news. Because I keep thinking. Maybe you were just as lost, and just as hurt. That maybe the only reason we bled was because we didn’t know how else to hold our pain. And so the words we said only sounded like weapons. I keep thinking that someday, you’ll find answers you haven’t yet found the words for. And I once wondered: is it love when we believe in it, or is it love when we accept what it never was? I still don’t know. But I do know this: I still check in on you. Still care about things you won’t share. Still wonder about how your heart is doing today. So maybe not now. Because now, you still live somewhere in me. Even when you’ve long been gone. And maybe not yet. Because there are things I still want to write. Yours, I still want to hold space for. And this one thing I still want to say: I still...
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I live alone, but I never feel lonely.

Because for as long as I can remember, he never left me by myself. Not even once. He always made sure to treat me gently, to care for my needs, completely. He never raised his voice. Never dismissed my hand. He took me to beautiful places, and to the ordinary ones that meant just as much. He stayed by my side. And when he couldn’t, he always found his way back to me. He remembered every little thing about me, and made sure I’d always say, “I’m happy.”  He was there. He always was. And I really am happy. But it was me who couldn’t believe he was mine. It was me who couldn’t stop thinking he’d leave someday. So I kept proving myself. Kept trying, hiding, shrinking. I lost myself, trying to prove my love for him. When all I ever needed was to love him back. I brought the wounds I never truly faced, believing that being with him could make everything easier. And it was. But the untreated, unaddressed ache became a heartless resistance, one thing he never, ever deserved. And...
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