CRAMPY PAPER OF DREAM

"A self-potrait motivational poster in my bedroom wall. "

"What are your dreams? What is the shape of your dream? Is it you or other people that you see in your dream? Why are you here? What's the constraint of your life? What is your final destination?"

As I laid down my head, the echoes of live music concert of an unknown juvenille's band that is held besides my rent house, filled my room. The unstable notes jump from one corner to another. With a huge pride, showing off their's youth life.

                "I am no better even when I am outside of my home. I think I can gain freedom. But it's like chasing the wind." I was so sured back then when I left my home to rent a room near my workplace. I think I can do whatever I want and feel free. And it was all lie, as in this crampy room, I can see clearly, it is not the house of my parents that locked me in, but my thought, the only culprit of this non-sense life I live. Going anywhere, can't freed you, when the one which is jailed isn't your body, but your thought.

                Looking at other people's life is breath-taking. I can see how weak a human's soul can be. By a simple threatening, they can be withered, like a petal slowly fall to the ground. Just like me.

                I know there's something wrong on me. I do not know why I come up with this idea, I just know. That's slowly in my heart, there's big monster of mud that is slightly day by day, becomes bigger and bigger, until it devours me one day. Human are weak. It has not always be external things that influence their lives, simply by thinking, they can be slipped away and end up at a place they never thought before.

                My neighbors are chatting now. The wall is so thin that it doesn't block any single wave of their voices. Behind this door, I imagine how these human interact each others so comfortably and naturally. How their lives seems so easy for them. To be like them is one of my dreams. Sounds desperate for some people, but yeah that's the truth.

                I maybe seemed so easy going person in the eyes of my friends. But that's not the truth, life is always hard on and for me. I can never be truly happy. It's such a long day I guess since the day I smile honestly to myself and others. Back in my childhood days.

                Being adults is somehow depressing. As you are more aware of the things around you, the more the chance of bad thought will come to swallow you up. I hate myself for being so reckless, clumsy and boring. People at such a young age will go somewhere to have fun with their friends and chasing boys maybe. But, I am not like that. What's wrong with me?

                A comb, a snack, a glue, and a laptop. How random the things on my table are. It's like my heart. Everything that comes out is always random.