Berawal dari cinta menjadi kebiasaan
Mencintaimu seperti bernafas, selalu dan tanpa sadar.
Dan tidak bisa berhenti tanpa menjadi mati.
It’s there every time I log in to my laptop : “Diezha150305”
It’s there when I go to sleep. The bed, the sheet, the pillow. You were my blanket and comfort every night.
It’s there when I go to work. In my lunch box. During Jakarta’s traffic. It’s there in our playlist in my car. The list of songs that we put up together, mostly your songs. It’s there when I get to office. No more “Have a nice day at work, sweetheart!” every morning.
It’s there when I working late. Used to be you by my side, nodded off in an attempt not to sleep while waiting for me to get the work done.
It’s there when I eat. How we always have our meal together – breakfast, lunch, dinner, midnight snacks. How when I’m not in the mood for anything you always fed me with your fingers.
It’s there when I have bad news, or even good news. It is so there when I grab my phone and then thinking to my self, “Hey I can’t share this with him anymore, can I?”
It’s there in the road bumps near my boarding house, you remember? The one we so often passed by on purpose, and then giggling when we hit the bumps.
It’s there in that silly Roma Irama’s song that we used to sing out loud during traffic jam. Mirasantika.
My dear God, you were the craziest partner I ever had. How I love you so so so much with all my heart. The kindest, sweetest just the greatest boyfriend a girl could ask.
But baby, it’s also there every time I see her face. Her has-no-shame-acting-all-innocent fucking face, sitting all calm and cool in my, MY, boarding house. It’s so there every time I remember the moment I walked in on you, naked, in the dark room – in the bed we used to slept together, in the blanket that used to cover our body after exhausting nights – with tissues everywhere. Sperm’s smell in the air, mixed with that cheap slut’s perfume.
For god sake, she’s living under the same roof with me!
The questions unasked:
Do you love her? Do you even like her? Was she better than me? Did you think she was prettier? Was fucking her felt better than me?
Was she… worth it?
Just… how could you?
And it feels so alone. So alone.
It’s like you keep telling people what happened – get a hug here and there, get a sympathy pat in the back, get a few wise words. And then they accompanied you for some reliever hangouts a couple nights. Some nights end up with me, drunk as hell. Some nights end up with me laughing my ass off but cry the hell out of it as soon as I get home. None of it really works.
Because every time I said I miss you in my day and night, they keep telling me I better off without you. It’s better sooner than later. This is the right thing to do. This is what meant to be. That I’m just paying my due, pay off the karma. That life doesn’t stop here, and you have to move on. All those craps that I now is true, but fuck you all it’s not that easy to do.
I can’t comprehend.
But really, the fact is, no body, NO BODY, understand what I’m going through.
How I rarely cry when I awake, and how I found myself crying almost every morning when I wake up.
How I have no gut to go home, see, I don’t wanna see her smug face, you know. So I have to went through a nightmare series of sleeping over in friend’s house.
How I work my ass off on a task, just for the sake of keeping my self occupied. So that I don’t have to think about you. Or her. Or us. Not that it works..
How I love you still, and will always be, just when everybody think I will hate you.
How everybody always said, “Oh my dear, dear, what else left to cry?”. A LOT, that’s what, you idiot. You just won’t understand.
Because before you fucked her, you were my hero.
My guardian angle, my bodyguard, my partner in crime, my alarm, my walking stick, my light in the dark, my mood booster, my stress reliever. My best friend and the best lover. You were my Ihzarmurafi Huza, an agile guard, just like the meaning of your name.
Because you held my hand when we cross the street, you wipe my stomach with Kayuputi Oil when I had diarrhea. You drove me everywhere. You always take me home and make sure I’m okay.
Because you gave me the top layer of Harvest’s Devil Cake. You finished my pizza when I only eat the toppings. Because you share me your kremesan when we eat Bebek Kremes. Because you’re always in for it whenever I throw the stupidest games or the craziest bets. Because you said you love my morning breath. Because you wrote me a song for my birthday. Because you were, once, the center of my galaxy.
Nobody understand how hard I force myself to stop loving you, stop missing you. How hard it is to put on a brave face in front of them. To keep my feeling aside at office because hell, my job’s been fucking me hard in the ass these past weeks.
O, my first love. My one and only love..
How am I gonna love somebody else, ever? How am I gonna trust someone else, like, ever?
Because we’ve broken up so many times before but we know it’s not the end. Because for us, it feels like it will never off the table.
But not this time. No, not this time.
This is the end, the end. This is the end of something that I thought will last forever.
We’re no longer Didi and Yuze.
We’re no longer Cimut and Guling, blanket and bolster.
No longer Ayskiw and Ayskiw.
O baby, you broke me, broke me bad, so bad when you left.
Not one second have I ever thought we would end up this way.
How am I ever going to survive from this, O my dear God, the merciful and most gracious, good God?
I’m heartbroken, O so helplessly in pain.
Rest in peace, Diezha
Once, best friend and lover
15 March 2005, 9 pm – 4 April 2014, 9 am
Memorial Service : 15 April 2014, 11 pm, Raja Begor Senopati
Attended together as a couple for the last time : Didi and Yuze