LOCKDOWN A Love And Covid - 19

Scribbles for Firhan

Dear man..

I am writing all this for you, for a man who has filled my life with laughter and happiness.

With the tears of longing that I went through with the pen dance, I just wanted to blow it all away. Which is stored in my mind, which has taken away my happiness, just because I can't see you.

Tonight comes again today, yesterday I was so happy that it was hard to fall asleep because I thought tomorrow we would be together again.

And tonight I can't close my eyes, I'm having a hard time sleeping because I can't hold you tonight.

The night grew longer, the clockwork seconds dragged with a voice that I heard more and more clearly in the silence of the night. Outside there was no beam of light, the stars were unwilling to decorate the horizon even though I begged and asked them to accompany my night without you at least. But my request hasn't been granted tonight. Maybe tomorrow baby, when you come he'll split up on the horizon.

Ever since I decided to leave you at the airport back then, I hesitated to step up. But I am selfish, I attach too much importance to the words of a woman, when all her words are not true in the least if she speaks of me.

I was too carried away, I wanted to get away from my life in Medan City at that time, until finally my father told me that he was not okay. I decided to calm down, the wrong way to leave you. Suppose I choose to stay, and be patient for a moment to wait for your cut, or I am more patient to always ignore the words of your brother. If I had all gone through like running water, I'd be fine. You'll be with me now. Without any regret for the endless parting, for the parting floating above our story. We never know when we will meet and meet like we used to.

But I found your life to be fine, as if there were and there were no influences in your life. But it turns out that I was not right in judging you, one of your students told me that you were often moody without me, unable to concentrate on your work.

I'm sorry I left you alone.

I was devastated with longing, always haunted with memories, always afraid of being afraid of the feeling of loss.

I left you, but I was afraid to lose you too.

How painful the wound is while this wound medicine is far away, out of nowhere.

Are you having trouble tonight?

You should be at the airport, baby.

You should have come with your group.

Then why did you disappear, your phone died and certainly can not be contacted.

Have you bribed food for your hungry hikers?

Where did you spend the night?

Or is there a sudden schedule that makes you have to postpone your flight?

Then what about your last message saying you've entered the plane?

What about your promise to see me at the airport?

I woke up tonight.

My eyes should have fallen asleep because of tears.

But my thoughts forced me to feel the pills today.

Wanted me to sleep at the airport, to keep waiting for you at the next club.

I haven't been able to ask you, how many masks you carry, how many ml of hand sanitizer are stored in your backpack.

Have you protected yourself when the plague began to roam the earth?

Worried about health.

I was just wondering what made your phone die and you didn't take the flight.

It was from curiosity that made my mind tormented.

Darling, honey,

There are still many things I want to tell you, there are still many things I want to say.

You know, honey?

The lily I ordered is now lying on the side of my bed.

I look at him as if I'm staring at you.

I don't know who else will tell me.

My mouth is tired of complaining, but not with words.

I can tell stories through pen dances.

In order to be half my problem, which cannot be found with you.

Silent night friends, I locked myself in, let tears drip, I lamented my condition, which was always bland without you.

If I knew there would be a disaster like this, of course I chose not to go to Java. Of course I will choose to be with you always, so that no one is apart without news, so that we are always together every second, every minute, and every hour that passes.

I'm sorry I always complain when I'm away from you.

I'm really in a daze right now, not knowing what to do.

Please be good all right there. I don't want anything bad to happen to you.

I'd feel so guilty if you got hurt.

With silence, march 6, 2020 without you

I repeat once again my writing on the second sheet, on the third sheet, the fourth sheet and the fifth sheet. I wish I could sleep this way as usual. But I still can't. My chest cavity hurts even more when I think about the story that has gone. I slowly tore the paper which had been densely packed with ink writing, some of it had faded away due to my tears dripping down on it. I fold neatly, I slip it in an envelope, a letter with no address. If I send it, the delivery postman will be confused and then my paper will end up in the trash.

Which address should I go to get this letter to him. I still can't digest. So far my consciousness seems as if it has not been intact to permeate that Firhan disappeared. I repeated that sentence in my brain that could not accept the situation. My heart rejects the justification that Firhan is no more in my life. The numbness of my hands is not a problem right now, my heart needs calmness, so I wrote. But unnatural things happen again. I should have been relieved to write all my heart on this white striped sheet, and there was no progress at this time. My old habits cannot be applied to my very sad moments.

I looked up, saw the clock moving slowly, I hoped that dawn would come soon, I couldn't even close my eyes, I was already anxious to rest but this thought held him back always and always. The silence I never feared again, there was no time to be afraid as my mind drifted and my heart longed. Maybe I never realized again that I turned on the AC volume so cold, my whole body was frozen, I felt frozen, I snuggled up to bed a pile of papers that I didn't know who I was going to send all the papers that didn't have that address.

In silence I called his name,

Firhan Avecenna, the figure I miss, the theme in my writing.

Should I make a novel for you? So you'll read it later if we meet? If only I could.

I want to sleep for a moment.