Recycling
His weight exceeds that of a gasoline truck
Laughing and crying are two different expressions and feelings. I can't understand both.
Maybe in this life there's some kind of formula I can use to understand it. The formula in it gathers simple numbers that must be known first. How difficult. I don't know, maybe the formula is too difficult to make the head that was originally hairy to be bald.
Please explain to me, I desperately need an explanation for the inspiration of the life I'm living.
That day, I re-wrote a lot of words in the diary, words that I wrote wanted to ask for help, the book was often used as a place to dispense with frustration, sadness and so on.
What does happiness mean? What does sadness mean? Why do these two feelings I cannot understand. Sometimes sadness knocks on the door, uninvited. The sorrow that torments the heart, the pain is as slashed as pain, causing a sore wound in the soul. Sadness is often likened to withered flowers, but happiness is likened to a flower blooming full of beauty.
I wrote a little about my short life question. I really hope someone answers me, whether it's the sound of the wind or the squealing sound of an old door. In the chair, in my place. Again, I sat down daydreaming with my hands busy holding a pen, writing down all sorts of feelings.
I don't know why I know so little about what hurts in this world. I looked back at the sunset light. At the end of the beach it looks charming, even in the form of delusion.
To be honest I stared at the painting, there was a beautiful view of the beach, the panorama of twilight. Beautiful, all of it is able to carve shadows in my mind and mind that are not desirable, the conscious shadow is able to reconcile the heartache and chaotic thoughts caused by the disturbed false shadows, he said, deceiving eyesight.
I try as much as possible to get rid of all the turmoil or whatever is dwelling in my mind.
As I now experience, harboring love is painful, I cannot do much, can only staunchly keep silent on hope.
Hope is fading away by the wind of falsehood, turning back the windmill, and then creating a turn that can destroy.
The half of the coin in my hand seemed to be split with a single incision of a monstrous sharp knife. I turned around not wanting to turn my head and not wanting to say a word.
I seemed to be walking on the beach leaving a faint trace that was not worth hoping for, despite the glimpse of the picture I was staring at. Behind the twilight painting was stored many memories that were wiped away.
At the quiet end of the beach, the birds roar, flying around cleverly, squealing between twilight pieces that show the light of the longing wail.
All the feelings that come to me with a feeling I can never explain.
You know the twilight that seemed to call me to go to meet the orange sunset set in a leper there, I wanted to ask for his help so that this soul-burning and heartburn disappeared forever.
Somehow? Today feels so fast passing. The next morning, where the sun appeared next to the eastern horizon, I woke up from the dream shadow that had been deceiving me all along. Deceiving with lying words does not reflect humane attitudes.
Now, the roots of hope seem to spread so much. The tree that I originally looked at was low, now towering higher, higher and higher, like it was growing fast and there was a super effect that helped it. I'd love to cut down, but I'm afraid if it falls on me who's worried.
In this chair, in this place, I kept bragging by writing something confusing. True said my friend who previously met in the coffee shop, why I write when I have no talent at all in writing, but what's wrong? I just try like a broken branch falling to the ground, then absorbed by the earth until it is destroyed.
Do not think of the leaf, let it perish in the deadly suction of the earth. I know it's just words, but why do I feel like my writing is ugly, the worse it feels if someone mocks it.
In front of me was a mirror. I looked at myself there. “Ah .. why in this world like many bad people who do not defend me at all.”
I spoke to myself again, staring at the mirror. Look, the faces of people who have been crying a lot. Men who shed tears, men who are completely different from those who are resistant to appeal. I cried, kept crying looking at myself in front of the mirror. Alone, with no one by my side.
At that time, I wiped the tears, then combed the hair, tidied the tie to get ready to go to work. Today, I forgot for a moment the jokes that messed up my mind.
I write for myself, not others who want to know my life, not to be known by many people, then arrogant, forgetting the essence of the self that is actually created from the ground.
Unless I write just for myself. In all my million senses, this is my life that is not like people. I've been an orphan since I was seven.
I have often faced days, nights alone without a single person by my side accompanying me, no one even gave me a single word of comfort.
I endured in terms of physique and gaze, but I heard a little mockery, at that moment tears dripped without my will, despise already this self. A man with shady eyes, tearful tears, weak? In this world, maybe I'm the only one like this or out there. I don't know.
I have to be patient, sighing a percentage of the amount in a day. For people who don't experience it, they won't understand how painful the days are.
Right now, I'm out of the house. I'm quite independent, I have a home, I have a two-wheeler that I carry with me everywhere I travel.
I stepped on the gas pedal and went to my usual place, where I worked. Every day I work in that place, except Sunday, with my co-workers who to me they are all good. Honestly, they are very good. They gave me a warm greeting. Good-looking.
Most of my co-workers are older, but they keep close friends with me as if they don't care how old I am.
My age is still young from them, even the difference is as far as 100 million kilometers of travel distance. I was grateful to meet a co-worker whose attitude was unlike those outside.
Sometimes out there I meet people older than me, but they underestimate, even say things I don't want to hear. They cannot adjust the age genre. In fact, they are very confident to mention something that is not worth mentioning. That's my dream, actually I don't like the attitude of the person.
Not with my colleagues who are different from a group of people out there. My colleagues consider me as their own sister, they do not bully even encourage my days with a neatly-appeared smile.
They often help me in lifting things, my job is quite heavy because I am not used to it. That's my reason, they understand me, sometimes I fall. It hurts! Yes, but work is my way of making money.
Everyone must know. Simply put, the money I was holding, was in my wallet, sometimes in my pants or shirt pocket, jacket or whatever.
All of them in the form of paper sheets that have the nominal value of official marks from the government.
They all do it on the basis of money. Looking for excess branded goods, maybe so far what is their need is still lacking so that mendzolimi rights of others.
The money in the form of sheets has many names. In various countries one of them is famous, what I know is the dollar bill. Money that many people know.
In the past, in a mosque there was a little lecture that I remembered from one of the ustadz. He mentioned, “In fact the money is the same, the form of sheets and liked by many people.”
That is the essence of life in this world. Eating and drinking purchased through a piece of money, that's the need and quota of the internet that I have now is just a fad of looking for entertainment, looking for insight in free time. Don't ask anything? Since that is my reason, how are the other people's reasons for this? Maybe, they are different from me, everyone has a reason, every self needs a need.
At work, I took a break. Sit on one of the benches and continue writing there. From the beginning, I was eager to write down how bad corruption was, it took away the rights of the people, as well as the book hijackers and plagiarists. I want to write a book about the evils of this world.
Evil that is felt lightly, even though it is a very big sin, also harms others. Dzolim is in a hiding step I can't explain.
However, I am not a person who is good at preaching, so I will not be able to discuss dozens of pages, people who read it will certainly be bored.
I am not that person, but I am I, a young man who often sees news on television, also reads news in the newspapers, listening to curhatan from one of the authors who discussed about pirated books, even plagiarists and so forth.
I'mtired. Tired of explaining in my writing, writing curses on news pages etc. Now, I write it in a diary, sigh for a moment, and then close the diary.
I went back to work, lifted things to the car. Looks like I wasn't assigned to drop off, Wapta was the same. Behold, the woman stood majestically, holding the list of goods in her hand, checking the order. I stared from a distance. Peace and tranquility.
I just stared for a moment. Continue to work hard and focus on the work I am doing. So focused now I work until I forget the break. My good friend Jazu patted me on the shoulder. At that time, I only realized when he patted my shoulder.
She smiles. “Take this bread, you need to eat now, friend.” He gave me bread.
I didn't say much, moved quickly to take it. Jazu is a good friend of mine who always gives food, of course as I thought Jazu deliberately bought it excessively, that's what I like about him.
The man is always attentive. Well always, not stingy in the wallet, look at the jombo-sized bread I hold, I eat slowly.
I reflex because of habit at home alone, often devouring food once said, the bread that was originally eaten slowly was now immediately spent. That's a habit that seems strong.
Jazu laughed a little at me. “You don't greedy friends, spend all that bread once a bite.”
I also laughed. I told you that's my habit, don't ask me anything.
Basic Jazu exaggeratedly called me that, joking with one bite, where is there? Just imagine the size of a jombo eaten once a bite, but I understand that is just a term that people often use.
I brushed it off for a moment. “Ah, who is greedy? It's my old habit, it won't make me fat. Unless I eat cement every day.”
Jazu patted the jidat. “Jeez, friend. As usual you often overdo it.”
“No. I'm not exaggerating, I'm just giving you a word beyond reason.”
“That's your worst habit, man. I don't want to hear it.”
“Terlarah. I just want to say at once ask, am I wrong to tell you, say that the world is round around the ocean and land, or the cigarette you are smoking is just smoke that does not make you full?”
Jazu momentarily exhaled the cigarette smoke in his hand. I forgot to say, he was a smoker. In fact, when giving bread to me tucked in his ear a cigarette. Then, as I ate the bread, he lit it, and continued to sob that I mentioned it in return for calling me greedy.
“Friends, all is not wrong, but my advice is never you tell anyone other than me, you will be bullied. You know, everyone knows the earth is round, cigarettes won't make you full, it's just the use of your language that previously made my head spin 90⁰ degrees to understand it. Is it true that you eat cement every day?” Jazu spoke at length, then laughed for a moment. I kept quiet and didn't want to answer.
“Ah, forgive me, friend.” He continued patting my shoulder.
I laugh. “Forget about that, friend. I forgave. I'm afraid of you.”
“You're afraid of me, why? Does my face look creepy?”
“No. Not so, your weight exceeds the gasoline truck.”
“Aduh, friend. Haha, again you make me laugh with your absurd talk.”
“That's my forte, you just have to laugh and follow the rhythm.”
“You told me to laugh? Though, I've laughed with pleasure.”
Actually I never knew what a joke was. For me what I am now doing is not that funny, I am a person who has often experienced a lot of sadness, masked in a pretentious style in front of many people.
I never knew his name was a joke, even that was not my specialty, but rather I just reflexed when confused looking for answers. At that moment, the words came out accidentally that most people said were absurd, to me it was not funny at all.
There was actually a feeling of pleasure when Jazu laughed, even though I knew he was laughing because it sounded absurd.
I am also not an expert in anything, but it is okay to let it all be like the sun recognizing the clouds, always giving the earth a ray of certainty, giving a comfortable warmth.
