Recycling

Two-Headed Cowboy; A Split Face

I was silent for a long time with a dim look staring blankly. The light of darkness seemed dazzling. Ask the mind there is no answer.

Imagine how the television staff was showing advertisements and shows. How a rating becomes their goal. It was a strange question that still echoed in my mind, there was no answer.

Silent and silent like a ringtone that is intentionally deactivated. My brain's frozen, my mind's drifting again somewhere?

“Hei, young man.”

“What is the greatest wish you have hoped for during your life, young man.” Someone without me knew surprised me. Appeared behind me without me noticing his existence.

I'm turning. Sniggered. Since when is this? My feelings were intense and terrible. Not play. Hey, where am I now? My eyes looked at the stranger around. Why do the streets and the place I stand, even everything from the top down seem different from before? The atmosphere. eve.. and. this..

Just like now I was in the middle of ancient times left behind in the history sheet. The thick book of lectures that had even once put me to sleep with a book in hand. What year is it now? Why does it seem so old-fashioned, even I can't read it.

The man who called me was standing there. A man who looked old, his hair whitened and his appearance was pleasant. Even the looks of him seem to be young.

“What do you see, young man.” The old man walked up to me with the annoying look I've seen.

“Ah. I love your astonished face so staring at this place.” The old man patted me on the shoulder in his style.

I was struck by all this, the old man momentarily turned his gaze towards the building there, I was the same. I don't know, where am I confused to look? Followed him maybe, yeah.

“Welcome, young man. As I saw your face was tired, your eyes were as sad as those who were about to cry. Be happy for a moment. You know that big building is one of the buildings in this village that we are very proud of, when you look at it thousands of sorrows and the chaotic feeling will be gone. Even His Majesty the King was overjoyed to see that the building remained magnificent until now and you still chose to stand with such an expression, silent and speaking nothing. Come on, I'll take you again for a walk around here.”

The old man stared for a while, then walked ahead of me, laughing. Smile moreover, the look of a serious-looking face with his hands folded backwards. The streets seem empty. Around me orchids and apples filled every corner, in that place as if only the two of us were fun to spend time together.

“In this world you are not alone, young man. Various living beings, cool nature and even inanimate objects can be made friends, as long as you want to accept them as your friends. Look, the friendship of a bird with a tree branch is how it guards and makes nests there. The friendship of the sky and the clouds that make it beautiful in the eyes. Friendship of the sea and the waves, the wind and others. You just need to be able to adapt to all that.”

“Tomorrow or the day after. Don't be sad anymore about what happened to your life and if you ask me what makes your current problem complicated, the answer is yourself.”

“Thousands of words you blame others, indeed the biggest mistake lies within yourself, young man.”

“You are selfish for everything. Accusing anyone of others. Denying something that you really are the cause of all your own life problems. That is why some things there are a series of numbers written there, symbolizing the human attitude that when guilty. Sometimes they instinctively protect themselves from blame, making others a target point to blame.”

“But, not all humans are so, right?” I answered while looking at him.

The old man laughed. “Of course, not all humans are so, I understand what you're saying, it's just most of them or maybe just a few, not many of them. To be sure, you are among them.”

“Why are you now accusing me of that? Turns out you are also a person who likes to accuse carelessly.” I heard the final paragraph.

“I'm not accusing you, young man. But, I know all about you, everything you've done. You're a young man who grew up with your own perceptions. Think your thoughts are the brightest and you are a person who does not take advice easily, does not change easily and you often accuse others of wronging you. Just like the lecturer who often scolded you and you accused him of favoritism, right?”

Hearing that I gulped, questioning how could he possibly know about it? I never even said that to anyone else, only to my grandfather as my confidant all this time.

“You shouldn't be surprised how I found out. The thing you need to fix is feeling and thinking about keeping your heart from getting dirty. You see that river, filthy with rubbish that dissolves there. That, are you the one who never cared about it?”

“Withing the day that passes is your way to measure the mistakes that are in you, then do well after that. Cleaning it slowly will make the heart feel airy and your mind was calm.”

“In every day, set aside your night time to reflect. In the darkness of that night, you could remember many things, the cry of a sinner grimaced. Also, the pain is deep in his chest. We can see how the figure of a person who often contemplates his mistakes. He will no longer be busy questioning and bringing up the faults of others, we can see all of that clearly where he is busy with his own mistakes and does not mind others. He will often apologize, often ask others, whether in him there are mistakes that must be corrected and he always tries to improve himself. As the days passed, she was finally like a shining pearl. Emitting warmth and comfort for others, even at one time he became the spotlight of many people and liked his existence while in the community.”

“How do I know about it because I have one of those friends who is who he is and that's best for you, find a friend who takes you down the right path. Because of the big changes in you and your attitude that we can feel, it could be coming from people around us, the more you become friends with bad people, the sooner the thinking will change. A new understanding arises in your mind and in the end you want to do it. How despicable and best you should avoid.”

“But if you can take care of yourself. Befriend anyone. It doesn't matter, it's just avoided and reduced, don't get too close to them.”

Along the way, the old man spoke directly to me, tired of it not seeming. I followed him behind while listening with my eyes looking right left. Feel uncomfortable with the atmosphere that is now for me foreign. In that atmosphere, it was as if only the two of us existed, lived there and had a role in it. Hey, wait if you think that's true too and where are the people? Why does this place seem completely empty? It's just the two of us here. Me and the old man kept walking.

The old man smiled this time. Looking towards me. “Young man, do not be upset and as bitter as any day you now go through and feel about this life and the twists and turns of romance. Look at that magnificent building, how once a woodcutter built it with high hopes. Behold, until now the building remained majestically standing facing the wind, as long as it could survive the scorching sun. The building was indeed built with majestic, priceless grandeur. No matter how much you will buy it, the magnificent building will still stand firmly there.”

The old man explained at length which made me frown a little.

Grand building? Magnificent what? What I saw was like an ordinary building, the same in general. I grumbled in annoyance with the various arguments in my mind and mind. This leg kept going, still following him who occasionally took a gulp at me and continued to babble in high spirits until I thought it was redundant, out there. I was busy introducing history to me in different styles.

“Young man, you must be astonished, right? Listen to what I say that the building is magnificent. You know, the building is magnificent. You can see it one day. In fact, when you can be grateful for this life, you will be able to see it. We have always been grateful, the building can stand from year to year until it feels like the age of the building is more than 1000 years.”

It was like he was attacking what I was saying inside. I stared in wonder. Does he seem to be able to read my mind? How come? The old man slowly rubbed his white beard.

Then the bright light came back. The old man smiled and disappeared from my sight.

Want to know what I think? My face felt stiff and my pulse shook. I rubbed my eyes, rubbed my face as much as I could. I hope it's not real nature and it's just khalayan.

And.really so, it's just a delusion. Martin Sakirjana woke up my daydream again. We were still in the yard where I was in college.

I woke up from a daydream and now stand empty. It dawned on me that I was now with Martin Sekiranjana already on the college page. It's still fresh I remember. Also imagined about what had happened before, it was like the reality I was experiencing. It definitely looked like a television screen I heard and I looked at it like a shampoo commercial that made me scratch my head that day.

A thump in my head. All about a friend and comrade in the language of my village used to be called Sajak. The memories are longer. Like a movie playing back in your head.

Yeah— I remember everything, about rice fields and various other things. The old man was different. If the rhyme does exist in my past.

I should be able to forget all that, probably right now my mind is messed up as usual and I don't want to keep remembering it. May the memory of the past come to an end.

I let out a breath. Walk through the parking lot. Martin Sirikanjana kept talking in his language and I ignored him. Still strong walking.

My eyes turned to a building. In the room for a few seconds of wind, the large window and two branches of the tree branches that look curved.

I speak a thousand languages. That's an old window that looks worn with a gray pattern that I don't like. I'd rather have the window blue, brighter and more pleasant, but it's for me and I know people's tastes are different.

If now I had a can of blue paint in my hand, it seemed like the color of the window would turn blue and show people how selfish I was for everything, but I realized I had no right to change it.

Is correct. I have no right to change something that is not mine. The old window and the room that is more neat it belongs to one of the janitors at my college. I muttered too, not much.

“Oohoi, Narak.”

The old man now greeted me with his distinctive voice, Martin Sirikanjana smiled kindly at him, even first reply to the greeting of the old man who was now cleaning the yard.

In fact, the old man was not familiar with Martin Sirikanjana, a friendly smile and a soft tone of speech. The old man met for a while, accusing the woman of being my girlfriend. He whispered, I also whispered that it was not true.

I was still silent with the same look. My mind is still overshadowing everything that comes to mind. Seeing doesn't care much. This is now what's different about me as if my life feels more like flying into a realm I can't understand and it seems like I have to go to a psychiatrist's place.

Like the advice given by his father Martin Sirikanjana while in the car before.

“Once you can remember the past, Narak. But, you must remember that the past has passed and you must not be restrained by it. Forget for a moment and live your day as a young man who is passionate about achieving his goals.”

The few words from the black-clothed person were still fresh I remembered. That'sthat's all. Makes me like a sea without waves, like cooking without salt and like a furnace without fire.

I want my will to say many things, but I am aware of them all. From the beginning, I should have stayed strong to be myself, without having to bother being someone else. My quiet self and continued to babble inwardly, continued to write the various expressions I felt.

That's a hypocrite like me.

That was me long ago. The beginning of the beginning when I lived and started from now on was all very different. Far the umpteenth time the sheets that eat a lot of vocabulary. There is much more to disconnect than just words and deeds.

It repeats itself from page to page, convoluted and complicated in all directions. Explain it I am tired.

Black Goat softened. Seen, stop. The docile and poor cat fell silent, the fallen leaves came to a halt. Or jokes. The hammer cracked it back. Scroll the time I stared at, the clock ticking as if slower.

***

If only I could remember the script I wrote. Writing ambyar vocabulary that I find difficult to explain.

Also, it is reported to be spread in all directions. In all the corners of the world that I knew that day one of them spoke. I was looking at one of the men in his head wearing a hat, sitting on the saddle of his horse. Talk to a girlfriend who is also riding a horse. They are not both from the people now. Long ago—different times and its existence in ancient times, it just so happened that it was just the two of them there. Going through the streets, talking about the news and so on. I had forgotten the story of how the cowboy met his girlfriend.

Shortly after, I remembered everything. It happened at the beginning of summer that felt warm stinging clothes and robes fluttering in the streets. The southern wind blowing more well enough as if cooling the atmosphere in the bright light of the sun.

Still alone in the saddle. Single man, no partner behind him. The man drove his horse vigorously. The horse ran quickly obeying orders and the horse knew how to thank its master's treatment.

The past and the bitter times that were missed in their desert. That future now seemed red with starlight in the sky. Strewed with hope in waiting for news from day to day.

The horse is still running. Grunt politely. So fast the horse was running now it looks like splitting the desert. The man could not do much, just clinging to his inner convictions. I want to lead myself north. And what's in there? Hey, he doesn't even care about the self-stinging heat, the man wants to go, splitting the desert just to meet the king whose palace is far away. Without being told they have been given a meeting point, the palace is in the middle of the desert.

All he did was want to fulfill the desire to discuss something about the discussion of his personal rights that are lost in view and from the row of forgotten signage. A list at the end of past memories. That memory doesn't give much meaning in a sheet of paper. Memory that seems really just a scribble of nonsense and empty hopping.

Even once remembered can damage common sense and regarding the numbers, calculations are not much of a reason.

In the middle of the journey he looked at one of the women and it turned out to be the woman who had long been his friend.

“It, right? She?” The cowboy was surprised. Spur his horse wants to catch up.

Is that prejudice true? Hmm. He wants to make sure everything.

The cowboy shouted, “Hey, you ..”

The woman looked. Bummer. “Yes, geez. You?”

“It turns out to be true, I didn't misunderstand people. Where have you been all this time? I haven't seen your nose in a long time. Haha.thank God we met here.”

A man dressed in a classic and wearing a hat greeted him still firmly sitting on his saddle horse.

The woman was still shocked happy and smiled while covering her white teeth. “You. Oh, my gosh. This is really unexpected.”

“Yes, this is indeed a coincidence, it seems.” The cowboy laughed, like most people are either happy or what?

“Iya, if I may tell you a story. I took a walk to the opposite city, looking for entertainment as usual. There, you know there was a strange man and he always acted like you were a cowboy, split face in two and liked to talk about the disgrace of others, a man who busied himself with longing, but he himself could not say it and instead wrote it. That's weird, it's weird. A wise man once said that a man who loves a woman will give real proof. Not busy giving reasons or explanations like that, right?” The woman explained in detail.

Which wise man does he mean? When I heard it I asked in wonderment in my mind and clearly frowned. I would like to ask what the name of the wise man is, lest he just make it up. Not only that, he kept spouting.

The cowboy was silent. His girlfriend kept talking with other disfiguring sentences. “He's a two-faced man, like. I don't even like a guy like that.”

“A lot of dust and ribet. You know that guy?” The woman looked at tanya.

“He is a man who often daydreams, often confused, often writes words on his personal notice board. If it's true that someone loves someone else, I don't think he's going to write down that point that doesn't work, just pass it on to people. Just imagine, it has no benefits and even if he is in love with the person he loves. He's going to do it with action, right? Provide evidence and not just words. Especially busy daydreaming is not so clear. The man did not seem to know much about what love was like, moreover he did not seem to know what it was like? He is too innocent and to me he does not deserve to be called a man because he often cries, is often heartbroken and often daydreams, even often lies and many others.” That woman is a lot of talk.

That woman is like a wolf in sheep's clothing. Its outer and inner appearance are different, the heavens and the earth are far away.

“I don't know about that. Because all this time I've never been to the city across, it turns out you know a lot about all that and how do you know what his name is?” A man dressed in cowboy clothes asked, as if curious.

“Yes, at that time I heard gossip from many people there. He is a man who sometimes likes to act smart and he is a man who does not know what socialization is between each other, let alone communication even cuek duck with his own neighbors.”

The two people there were talking about me, not anyone else. The cowboy's figure coughed for a moment, I don't know if it might be offended and offended.

***

The script editor interrupts the story. He asked for an explanation, I raised my hand.

“Your story is not logical.” The editor of the script now I see a red line in the script I gave him. His face flat crossed out the script.

After he checked the whole. My script was found to be shambles and messy as usual, even the storyline characters did not give the best impression.

“So, what should I do?” I swiped under my nose.

The script editor for a moment laughed faintly, not loudly. “No such as. No one I'll give you any more advice. Don't you remember all this time you've been delivering me novels a lot and all these scripts you've given me aren't worth it. Take your manuscript home and when you manage to explain it, give it back to me.”

“Do not forget to give the best impression, just because you want to make up, do not ignore this problem.”

The script editor looked at me steadily, not forgetting that he gave the best smile while returning the script in his hands. Smiling friendly.

“You must be excited again, later when you can explain it, come here. You can bring the script back to me. In a few years as an editor, I have not worked to edit the script, but I also want to edit writers like you, too, I know some successful writers and all that did not escape the intervention of the editor who directed, guided and slammed the work for the sake of just giving a lesson, giving advice and input. Surprisingly, you're among the thousands of writers I've ever given you that, no progress. Even many times I have given input and advice until now you still repeat the same mistakes as before, writing the script in a mess. Now, this being a PR for me, where's the fault, huh?”

I stared blandly. “Yeah, I apologize to you for writing this script in a mess in terms of writing, the storyline and the vocabulary stuck on the tongue. Because I wrote it while daydreaming. In the beginning and until now, in some parts of this manuscript I was like a person who had trouble spelling, even like a person who was silent for a long time.” I explained as much as I could, the script editor was staring instead of playing. His eyes focused.

“Regarding the storyline and in between the early chapters I seriously wrote it and sometimes as time went on I became less focused, the sentence repeated in the present chapter and from the ground element I gagged and tossed. Like those. It's hard to explain how I got that theory and explain it I can't. More comfortable this is a kind of person who is standing upright, speaking in front of the crowd more freely. In some words that come out in the mouth. A few minutes to change hours, talk again with new discussions and conflicts about the past.”

Among the text of the thrilling speech, I think there was one who managed to make the script seem beautiful and it seems that I was wrong about that.

Misperception. As the script editor said that my writing was strange and seemed bland with vocabulary that was stuck on the tongue, nothing. He just needs an explanation and kindly wants to edit it. All right, I'm trying to explain in front of him right now.

“That's actually the writing of this manuscript that did indeed fight. And you know it's messed up, left on the obsolete sheet.” I laughed at the script.

The script editor did not laugh, but shook my head and I came out of his room.

***

Sighs. I now have one permanent script editor who can edit my script whenever I want, but he was a nagging pardon and I chose him as the editor of my script just because I felt comfortable close to him, of course his friendly attitude which there was an atmosphere of familiarity and discussion smoothly. In some times I always ask for advice from him whatever and whatever his condition with a smile face forced. I saw that he was upset, I repeatedly apologized to him.

Today in a few seconds a breath that hung hope as if to break up. I held the novel and came out of the room, the paper was free, thinking twice about throwing it in the trash. A moment of daydreaming, by then my breath had come out like a waterfall in the mountains. With the intention of calming down, I took the phone in my pants pocket.

Open a message in the green app. Type a status more or less like this content:

🌵 Be strong, heart that often falls down fragile, smile, lips that often complain🌵

The response from one of the friends was encouraging. But, one of my old friends at High School back then, he was the only one who had my number.

He always called me with Boi, out of nowhere his inspiration until now the name is still firmly held by him.

Respond. Boi, you're a man. Study again there, how do you want to be a husband if you wake up in the morning you are lazy. Your grade school is as ugly as any successful one.

But you have to be upbeat, Boi. As bitter as any obstacle you face. Just believe in your dream, you can!

Like a cactus tree he said could grow in an arid desert. In fact, the cactus emot is just a decoration that I made, even used as a word of encouragement for me. Calling the word husband and bad grades, it actually almost made me laugh. Thank ye.

I'm grateful for what you said to me, man. A dash of feeling and a chipped coconut coir. I don't seem to have a stand on all this.

Yeah, even today if I wanted to know I kept asking myself. Questioning will I be able to be whatever the best and beautiful word is to me? As they say. And dismiss it by bringing evidence? Maybe I can't say more about it right now.

A cowboy with a split face. Look that way, man. The fiction in my story turned out to be a series of annoying writings. Like the instinct of a hunter guessing a soft target at the end of the island and you know he's dancing, man. Shady trees were waving at the end of the island, whitening clouds covering the sunlight. The sharpshooter and the thrower said.

They are now equally busy themselves by spinning simple logic figures, making preparations with all efforts and all kinds of needs. Hunting animals want to be eaten and devoured.

A reliable hypocrite deceives the northern peninsula area near the coastal area. He shook his mind, lost sight of the eye.

That, man. The fictional script is titled Two-Headed Cowboy: A split face. I write a series of conflict events from one end to the other, reminiscing about the past and it's all fiction. The manuscript that day I submitted to one of the editors of the manuscript was ultimately rejected on the same grounds as before.

Since then I have felt that my life is like folding paper into a lump and then throwing it into a trash can, no more than that and no less.

Two-headed cowboy, the front behind him is different by showing a facial expression that is very clever at deceiving. The good hypocrite laughed with a vocabulary he played logic. He cheats, look at those eyes and the mouth that blindly lies, deceives the victim that he has been chasing for a long time.