Tekad - Metamorfosis (Franz Kafka)

Franz Kafka - Metamorfosis

Jika saja, keluar dari kesedihan segampang ini, hanya dengan tekad dan keberanian untuk memperbaiki diri. Jika saja, dengan memanggil teman-teman dan membiarkan mereka bersuka ria dan mengoceh mengenai kegembiraan atau kemarahan mereka. Bukankah semua itu akan lebih mudah? Tidak akan ada yang namanya "pesakitan jiwa". Hanya pikiran-pikiran kusut dan hati yang perlu ditata. Namun, bukankah itu malah membuat keadaan lebih buruk? Bagaimanapun, menikmati rasa sedih itu sendiri merupakan suatu proses agar bisa bergerak maju melupakan yang sudah-sudah. Hanya masalah waktu yang bisa menghapus kenangan, hingga terasa siap menyongsong hari yang lebih cerah.

Ignorance is a bliss

When i was a kid, I used to like riding my bike in the afternoon. I liked feeling the cold wind hitting on my face, causing friction against my body as i pedalled faster and faster while looking at the blue sky, wondering how i could win against the cloud. And if i got exhausted, i would stop and looked at the sky, wondering how i could reach it. Then i would race to the highest place i could find, stacked blocks of stone to make my self a safe standing place without injuring my body and raised my hands trying to touch the fluffy clouds. Then, I would be curious why the sky went higher, and wonder whether the sky was mad at me for trying to do that. But it didnt stop me. I pondered what went wrong, and came to conclusion that i should become taller or go to the end of the world and see my self if there was any sort of bridge that connected this world and the sky. I couldnt get taller anytime soon, i had to wait years for that, so at that time i thought my only choice was the latter. I would go to the farthest place i knew, but i always got scared if i couldnt find a way home. Then i would come home while feeling disappointed from failing a mission, and decided myself i should try again tomorrow and travel further than i could today.

Whenever i talked to myself, i used to wonder if other people did it too. "Do they also talk like this to themselves or is it only me talking like this?" But i never once spoke to anyone about this. I guess i was afraid to be called lunatic if i were the only person who had conversation with their own mind. So everytime this question came into my mind, i always shrugged it off, and told my self that i would know the answer eventually, perhaps when i got older.

There were times when i was really curious about my existence. My favourite concern was "how do i know if i'm talking to myself?" I always asked how i could prove that my mind is mine, how i could know that it was not someone else's mind who got stuck in my body and whether i was talking to my mind, and not to someone else's. What was the purpose of thinking to your ownself, was it to prove your own existence to your own mind? Or stuff like that. And everytime i had this trail of thought, there wasnt any respond or direct answer about my inquiries, so i knew right away that i was talking to myself, the question that popped up in my thought was from my very own mind, and i talked to myself to prove that i was the owner of this body and mind.

But the question didnt stop there. I wanted to know if i could do it in someone else's body. Whether it was possible to enter someone else's body and live their life. Whether we could do soul or body swap or whether we could transplant mind and soul just like how we transplant an organ. These questions led to another, like how we were chosen to be put into this body and live this life. Whether there were any criteria to be born, like how we ended up being a girl or a boy, or the race and nationality and whether we were given choices what life and body we wanted before we were coming into life, that sort of thing. And i thought it would be unfair to just have one life. I mean, what if someone was born with dissability, or into a poor family? Everyone should be able to experience the ups and downs of life.

I didnt try to find the answer. Maybe because part of me knows what it was, and part of me wanted to be blinded. But it was always nice thinking about it. I would play the game, "if i were". My favourite was  becoming an incredibly rich person so i could build shelter to every poor and dissable person on the planet and give them education so that they could live the life they wanted. And i always wondered whether other people thought the same way as i did and how it would be nice if we did, so we could make this place a better place and all people would be equally happy to accept any life they were assigned to.

At that time, i thought if i wanted to know the answers to all my questions then i should grow up. I realized i was still young, and adults would only answer it in an easy way. Even if they told me the truth, my mind wouldnt be able to comprehend it, so i hoped my ten-years-later would understand. I didnt really want to grow up though. I realized the responsibility that comes with older age was a pain in the ***, and i would love to forever avoid it.

And now in my 21-soon-to-be-22 years old mind, looking back at my 16-or-so-years-old younger me, i wish i could turn back the time, and stay kids forever. I miss my innocence and ignorance. Worrying nothing, wondering things i shouldnt have. I really want to turn back to the time when imagination was a hope, not just another daydreaming.

Under the blanket

I'm hiding under the blanket
To protect myself from the monsters
All around me, they are in many forms
But can it protect me from the monster inside?

The void i'm living
The nought that surrounds me
The hollow i'm currently reside
Can the blanket fill it with its presence?

The emptiness takes form
Trying to fill the blank with its substance
Like a gravity, it attracts the space
Can the blanket contain it?

The emptiness keeps growing
Like the air, it doesnt hold a shape
Like the air, you keep breathing in
Can the blanket substitute it?

The emptiness gains more power
Like poisonous gas, it strangles you
Cutting loose the force within you
Can the blanket prevent it?

The emptiness takes control
Over your mind echo, over your voice sound
Like a toy it makes you, you become paralyzed
Can the blanket save you?

Now the emptiness has a figure
Holding you hostage like a robot
It takes after you, gaining access of you
The seed is planted becoming you

I'm hiding under the blanket
Over the fear of the monster inside
But can the blanket fill in
The emptiness it has caused?

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