l i b e r a t i o n

i am a girl with chipped nails. i keep buying nail polish i keep buying things that shine at stores. i have thoughts and suggestions that i believe will benefit me but i keep postponing them. i am bad with priorities. can you choose what you're bad at? can you choose the number of things you must be bad at? because i cannot be good at everything. you cannot be good at everything. but can you be decent at everything? is that life more fulfilling, more stable with less fraction, what kind of life do i want? why can't i try on different lives like i try on different dresses and see which one fits? or maybe i did, maybe you did, maybe we all did and we have no knowledge of it. like a dream you can't remember, like a person believing that she sleeps dreamless but in fact her sleep is a breeding ground for dreams.

why is the price of interestingness so high? i like interestingness, a lot. i say 'i won't trade this for anything' a lot. but i hate the price too. i hate it, a lot. it's like coming down from a strong, heart-wrenching, stimuli-blocking high. life wearing off. life leaving you. a new kind of pain that is hollow, shallow, like dark waters. some people live like this, like i do. we're not living in a cage, but it feels like a soft cocoon we can't escape. what do you think of heavens? what do you think of earth? interestingness is a drug, and i love the idea of drugs. am i lucky to never be hooked on one? but i already was. hooked on life. hooked for life.

the clock strikes thirteen... but how could it be? all the clocks in my house have stopped working this week. my phone alarm rings hollow--dear technology, we can never be friends. it's not an old school thinking, you know how you can never be friends with every soul? waking up is harsh when my mother is around, my kind of day starts on a mellow note. jolted by a surprising slumber reverie, soothed by dreams that drift away; that's how i'd like to wake up every morning.

on special mornings i like a human body beside me. i always wake up first. how do i wake people up? smell. the smell of my flesh, or the smell of food. it always works. i wonder if the smell gets into their dreams. some people just don't dream. some people never remember they dream. some people dream and wake up not realizing that they dream in their sleep. i dream and i remember some vividly.

when i think about you and me, i think about two nights ago, i can't help but rewind the way the tissue paper with greek words scribbled on it got soaked slowly, i noticed it, but i did not try to raise your attention. i did not want you to stop talking. the pen you used to scribble these words: "he is happy" which can exist in 5 forms in different cases. among this five, there is an ancient form that people no longer use. greeks used to sing in syllables. greek is the richest language in the world in terms of vocabulary--it has 5million words "or something," you said. the scene is in loop. when i think about that night, it felt like a long night. maybe because it was only two nights ago. what we talked about: sapir whorf hypothesis, languages: indonesian, english, greek, italian, spanish, french, german, urban planning, magic potions. how did we even get there? i was doing an impression of my social psychology lecturer. maybe it was not a good idea. i got 0 for my test and i only figured out today.