it is 4.22 am on this side of the world, and i am awake, unable to sleep. earlier, they were celebrating the going of the italian mafia (interns), not too far away from my apartment. i have moved in earlier today, ate my first official meal (megi kari dengan telur) of the house, and wonder at what comes next. it is only after some minutes that i realize that this is first time in my life that i am truly living alone. other moments were the eternal childhood, marriage, roommates, families, the kosan life, the wg life. perhaps it is does come as an achievement of sorts (to be able to afford your own apartment in europe).
days pass too quickly these days, it is impossible to grasp any moment by the hand (by the text, in written form). i left cologne on sunday morning, leaving my kosovo girl (who just turned 26), fucked up from her hangover and bad life decisions the night before, trying to ask me to stay over to help with her cv and sorts. it was simply not possible, after a night of cheap white whine, albanian music, turkish burgers, terrible german junk food and potato salad (give me jamuans not parties after this). i needed to run away from all this mess of hers. or i needed normal food.
on the train ride home, having nothing to read (no longer human by ozamu dazai is the perfect demonstration of continually fucking up your luck in life), i tried to capture any feelings that i have/had through the whatever songs that i have in spotify. in moments like these, words do get in the way.
i see alex again, and we make small talk over coffee, avoiding the roommate question until our sous chef arrives. i have probably decided there and then that he is probably the only one in this city i will tell anything real to. min ho arrives and i said it is too complicated to think about moving, and it will be a mess. they recount of their past roommates and their different Weltanshauung(s). min ho says i seem more, settled and too old (in spirit) for this shit. maybe i am. i know not to fuck up a good arrangement.
f will arrive in a few days. i have asked him for a present (a pair of ‘bone conduction’ earphones), which i doubt i will get. navigating birthdays is never easy. you want to it to be known without being too flashy about it. f is different, lost in his own mess that i sometimes find amusing, sometimes too tired to navigate with. it is somewhat difficult being the only anchor in another person’s life, but i suppose that is the point of love.
my stance to this world has always been the same; that i would rather die than to live, but will not go through the troublesome process of dying (it is not an art, plath), so i will try to secrete the little joys and amusement that i can, the complexities of emotions or the sudden gesture. i feed on these scraps of joy, fully aware that nothing in this world would ever truly make me at ease except going through this spiritual path (ascent?) towards god that i forever delay. everything else is meaningless.
perhaps all i need to do is to be alone.
so happy birthday, dear self.
perkaraperkara 