Writing has become a luxury I can't afford lately

Myself or my earth: a selfish perspective

It's 2 a.m now and the insomnia kicks in already. The tipsy will attack me first thing in the morning and will continue to a severe migraine if I don't have a proper breakfast or brunch. To hell with those, anyway. As long as I can enjoy this fast and free campus wi-fi in this dead night, I wouldn't mind. 

I went to a bookstore, a major one, this morning and I bought a book on radiology and a magazine on popular computer technology. So I paid for them, and packed the items in my backpack without any plastic bag. So what's the big deal? The big deal is what struck me right in the head only minutes afterward. 

I've been buying stuff without taking the plastic bag with one exception: when I bought my monthly food supply at the nearest hypermarket. I've been carrying my personal trash when I couldn't find any disposal bin. I been using the same mineral bottle in my fridge and in my backpack for months. I walked for a distance my friend wouldn't. 

I've been doing those stuff long before the DVD "An Inconvenient Truth" released by Mr. Al Gore. And I've been doing so silently, without talking to anyone about it, without telling anyone to do so 'cause I didn't know that I should. 

It was a coward act, of course, doing those things silently. I was afraid that during the earlier time when I built the habit' cause there were only me. I didn't see anyone doing so. I was affraid of being different. The final result was that I've been creating a habit for myself but the effect of my habit has been canceled by MILLIONS of other people doing contrary to it.

Now I see the DVD has been released worldwide and won the Oscar for best documentary. Mr. Al Gore himself won the Nobel Prize. The money spent on campaign by Mr. Al Gore and his team has reached millions, if not billions, of dollars. And I still see garbage piling up next to my door, at the corners of my campus, along the sidewalks of the street i walk everyday; none has changed in my surrounding. It's because I remained silent. 

I'm writing this as the end of my silence. My fear that I might be seen as a pompous smart-ass has vanished outside the bookstore I mentioned earlier. I will speak now with my mouth, my hands, my actions, and my writings. I will speak this:

-Watch the "An Incovenient Truth", if you haven't. It won an Oscar, for God's sake.
-Write the "things to do" at the end of the movie, and do some of it you are able to. Only some, not all.
-Convince your closest ones to watch it. 
-Don't take plastic bags unless it's necessary to pack your own garbage later.
-Walk farther.
-Buy bicycle, not more motorbikes, or even more cars, or even more SUV's. 
-Put some oxygen tank in your bicycle, or use the N95 respirator while going around if you live in smoky city like Mexico City, Bangkok, or Jakarta. 
-Take the public transportation.
-Don't buy SUV if you don't need the power or the torque from such engine.
-Convince your superiors to approve duplex printing for official documents, and a 50% scaled down printing for drafts. 
-Again, watch the end of the movie because they have more things there and it's arranged better than this nocturnal note.

So, start it from yourself. Be selfish. Our Earth is still salvable.

It’s the 8th of February and it hit me again: the restlessness. Crap!

I was trying to enjoy the last hours of this weekend by watching some movie and what’s left in my PC was “Slumdog Millionaire,” a Bollywood movie. An almost typical movie about congenital hardships of life: you know, that kind of movie which shows main character’s various hardships throughout his / her lifetime until eventually they gain the ultimate prize for all those hardships.  

The last time I saw this kind of movie was years ago. The title was “Sang Dewi”. At this point, you may wonder about the thing in those movies that make me feel anxious. Let me stretch it for you.
First, I just need to look at myself and my surroundings as I type this word. A decent notebook on my lap, a set of gaming PC in front of me, a refrigerator to lean my back, a shelf full of brick-thick medical textbooks…, the list can be very long. The point is I have luxuries. I’m lucky enough to taste those luxuries. 
Second, I look at my ID card: 23 years old and no job. No financial independence whatsoever. Plus, I will still be a student for the next 20 months. I’m a massively-big spender of someone else’s money. My roommate at high school has already earned decent money for himself, his beautiful wife and his lovely 3 years old daughter. 

Conclusion: I’m not very far from the term “spoiled brat”. 

So, what’s this spoiled brat feel anxious about?
You see, life rotates like a cart wheel. I’ve been regarding all these years as upturns. My artificial luxuries are not really downturns, are they? And what’s waiting for me all along the downturns? Will I be prepared for that? 

I am now officially....

How often do you find yourself tangled up in so many plans at the end of the day and only so short time left? Well, I suppose if you’re a grown up or a growing up, it’s more than just a mere often. Okay, so how often do you find yourself tangled up in the end of the day with still so many things to do AND feel completely in love with someone only a couple hours later?

To me, it’s a once in a lifetime experience, at least for the 23 years I’ve lived. Okay, maybe this happens all the time in all places in the world. Well, for me this is THE feeling of love. People do something, they fall in love with others, and suddenly all seem perfect. Same thing happened to me.

It all began when I found myself being attracted to this not-so-serene young woman. I’ve been a friend to her for some years but never more. So when I realize that I felt something about her, I intentionally went to see her a couple times. Some for catching up, some for a deeper understanding of her.

And then came the birthday. I did what I did as my gut told me. I MUST make this birthday of her to be special because I’m going to be involved in that. The other part of me kept saying, ”Come on, wake up man, she’s just gorgeous, you’re just…you. Nothing special of you and there’s no guarantee she’s gonna like it,…blah, blah, blah.” And the gut won.

So I planned it. A gift is a must, and a surprise wouldn’t be too outdated if thrown well. My planning days were numbered and I hadn’t come up with a worthy gift. At D-2 day, I finally found something special. Nothing too fancy but I was sure that it was going to be liked. I went to her apartment at D-1 day, chatted about this and that, and I went home without showing any sign that it was D-1 day. And yes, it’s always an uplifting experience to talk to her, although it was just ”this and that”.

D-day. My special gift still lacked the final touch, and I hadn’t had the birthday cake for the surprise. I haven’t mentioned that my mother came to town for a conference so she expected me to pick her at the train station around 7 pm. Just minutes before 7 pm, I was still in the bakery and hadn’t decided yet which cake it is. And the cake wasn’t really choose-pay-take home type. They said I should wait for 10 minutes. AARRGGHH!!! My mother was expecting me, my special gift was still not a special gift, and my cake was still in the chef’s hand. God, this is too much for an end of a day!

So, all of those were finally fixed up. The special gift got perfected, the cake stayed sound and safe in my arm, and I had a quick dinner with my mom before I took her to her hotel. Luckily mom only commented casually on the cake I brought. Mom, if only you knew how silly and deeply in love your son was going to be…

Then I arrived at her apartment. I was worried that she slept already for her job hours are demanding but it seemed that she went out for dinner. So I waited with a friend who knew all of my scheme. I chatted for time-killing and out of nowhere the birthday girl suddenly showed up in the staircase. I accidentally placed the surprise cake in a way that she didn’t see her cake as she saw me. She didn’t expect me to come so she came closer to say hi,…then… TADAAA,…”Happy birthday to you…,” My friend and I sang, no, tortured the song but hey, the surprise went well though planned way differently.

It wasn’t really a birthday party. There were only me, my scheming friend and her. We ate, talked, and laughed. I sat in the middle and they got to know each other. My scheming friend then became the understanding friend. That’s when the birthday girl asked occasionally, ”So, what about your present?” I knew what she meant.
”There’s no such present,” I replied while I waved to her the special gift. She smiled and said, ”I’ll open it later.”

We talked a little more until the air became awkward because we ran out of topic and it was already 10 pm. I went home, headed to my mom’s hotel room. The rain poured down. At that moment, everything felt right. Everything felt perfect. The rain, the pedestrian walk, the crowd of the street; I walked that street thousand times but I’ve never see those things glow as I flowed down the road. And I just couldn’t stop smiling…

I reached the end of the street. An incoming SMS. ”It’s from her,…IT’S FROM HER!!!” I shouted silently. A short SMS. ”The special gift makes my day even more perfect than what I expected.” No, it was MY day that made even more perfected by the SMS.

Oh my God, I haven’t felt this kind of feeling since junior high! It felt so good! And I just couldn’t easily swallow the fact that I’m in love that I kept whispering it so many times on the way back home. Yes, I’m now officially fall in love.

Makassar: My culinary tradition

Saya perantau. Saya tinggal di Jakarta dalam 5 tahun terakhir dalam rangka kuliah (dan hal-hal lain yang lebih menyenangkan, tentu :D). Maka saya "terpaksa" menjadi bagian dari sebuah tradisi Indonesia yang dalam sudut pandang tertentu agak irasional: mudik.

Saat mudik, ibu saya selalu bertanya, "Hari ini kamu mau makan apa, Nak?" Ibu saya bukannya jago masak, malah jarang terjun langsung ke dapur. Yang dimaksud dengan pertanyaan itu adalah makanan khas Makassar apa yang belum saya makan selama mudik kali itu. Apa sajakah itu? Mari kita telaah satu persatu.

Coto Makassar
Ini makanan khas utama, isinya seperti soto dengan kombinasi jeroan sapi yang dimakan bersama ketupat. Di Makassar, ada sangat banyak tempat yang menjual coto, tapi tradisi kuliner saya, Coto Gagak, berada di persimpangan Jl. Gagak-Jl. Kakatua. Saya cukup beruntung karena rumah saya di Jl. Kakatua jadi cukup dekat dari penjual coto itu. Ada juga Coto Sunggu, di kota Sungguminasa, kota tetangga Makassar, yang pasti selalu saya singgahi setelah ziarah ke kuburan kakek di Sungguminasa.

Bakso/Nyuknyang
Di Makassar juga banyak tempat yang menyediakan bakso yang enak. Yang paling terkenal Kios Ati Raja di Jl. Gn. Merapi. Ini juga tidak terlalu jauh dari rumah saya, cukup dengan 10 menit naik angkot disambung naik becak 5 menit (jalan kaki juga bisa, tapi pas pulangnya pasti lapar lagi :D).

Lumpia
Otak saya (dan banyak penduduk kota Makasar) selalu mengasosiasikan kata "lumpia" dan kata "Sulawesi". Lumpia buatan Lumpia Sulawesi di Jl. Lasinrang bagi saya paling enak karena renyahnya dan sambelnya yang khas. Di Jl. Lasinrang yang pendek dan sempit berjajar banyak toko yang menjadi "tradisi" yang sudah dikenal penduduk Makasar bertahun-tahun; selain Lumpia Sulawesi, ada toko mainan Sanrio, toko pernak-pernik remaja wanita CityOne, dll.

Es Pisang Ijo
Es pisang ijo yang menjadi tradisi kuliner saya bersumber dari sebuah restoran di Jl. Andalas, dekat Masjid Raya Makassar, namanya Warung Bravo. Waktu saya kecil, kami sekeluarga kadang makan bersama restoran ini dan menu favorit saya nasi campur. Saus campuran pisang ijo berupa kuah putih kental yang manis, sirup pisang ambon berwarna merah, dan kadang-kadang susu kental manis putih. Banyak yang mengatakan es pisang ijo bukan es pisang ijo tanpa sirup merah merek DHT yang hanya dijual di Makassar. Tidak mengherankan jika yang membangun mitos ini adalah staf pemasaran pabrik sirup DHT :D

Makanan laut
Warung makanan laut favorit keluarga saya ada di dekat Pantai Losari, pantai kebanggaan masyarakat Makassar. Namanya Restoran Lae-lae. Disana, pengunjung bisa memilih ikan/udang/cumi/dll segar yang ada di dekat pembakaran ikan yang harum berasap, dan menentukan pesanannya diolah seperti apa (rebus, goreng, bakar, dll). Setelah itu baru mencari tempat duduk.

Kue-kue
Yang selalu ada dalam bekal makanan saya saat kembali ke Jakarta adalah kue bolu. Toko kue langganan ayah saya adalah toko kue Adi Jaya, berada persis di sebelah Coto Sunggu, di Sungguminasa. Kadang-kadang saya juga membawa kue bolu dari toko ini ke Jakarta untuk paman saya yang tinggal di Bintaro.
Ssalah satu sahabat baik ibu saya sejak SMP jago masak. Kadang ibu saya cuma bilang ke sahabatnya itu bahwa saya sedang berada di Makassar, lalu 2-3 hari setelahnya saya pun disuruh mengambil kue di rumah sahabatnya itu. Rasanya seperti punya toko kue sendiri :D

Tentu saja, tidak ada yang lebih mendarah daging daripada masakan rumah; ikan rebus kuning dengan asam dicampur kecap manis, ikan bakar asin, sop kentang dan kacang merah, sop telur berkuah santan; terung bakar siram santan, tumis kangkung, soto Banjar a la ibu, dan apapun yang bisa ditemukan di kulkas pada jam 11 malam.

Sudah beberapa kali orangtua saya bertanya kapan saya akan membawa teman dari Jakarta untuk berlibur di rumah beberapa hari dan melanglang buana dalam tradisi kuliner Makassar. Tertarik?

Saturday

What do you do in a Saturday afternoon? Change your bed sheet. Get your laundry done. Just stay in bed. Listen to some chilled-out music. Hang out with friends in some overcrowded malls. Go somewhere with your families. Planning your perfect first date. Go to gallery. Try a new restaurant in town.

My Saturday afternoon is my gift and my curse. It’s a non allocated time in the perpetual cycle of weeks. Sometimes I miss Saturday very much like a boy waiting for his favorite toy. Sometimes I just can’t figure out what to do that I might stay in bed, swinging my pillow one side to another, try to maintain my 12 hours sleep.

I used to love Saturdays. When I was in elementary school, my parents used to take us to this renowned family diner every Saturday afternoon. They have a great fried chicken there. Even now I can taste the chicken sauce in my lips and my sister’s laughter. And then came high school. Saturdays are the most anticipated day because my high scool is a boarding school isolated in valleys, rivers, creeks, and endless dried rice fields. Saturday means a permission to leave the school until Sunday evening; permission to take a breath from harsh live of high school, pressure from seniors and academically demanding teachers.

My uncle said whatever things we do in our present times are investment to what we are in the future. Supposedly he is right, then so far I gain zero interest for my Saturdays. I don’t know what is the best thing to do in Saturdays. I don’t know what is the best thing to do with my later life. I see people do something from a single-numbered age until they reach more-numbered age and they become very good in that ”something”, they live in that ”something”. I sometimes find myself asking, ”What is my something, what is the thing that I’ve done for so long and become very good at it?” Well, to be honest, there is one thing: sleeping. I’m a famous classroom sleeper from high school until college. None of my classmates will disagree. But sleeping is not actually living, isn’t it?

Don’t get me wrong. I do have some nice Saturdays. Mostly it happen when I buy new video game title to play in my PC. Or some new DVD movie. Or go camping with some fellow in college. Or feel a bit adventurous and go to some new place alone. But that’s not the point. The point is if I can’t decide anything about one single day from seven days, how am I going to decide my times in life?

There's always a first time for everything...

...atau begitulah kata orang.

Bagi saya, kalimat di atas itu bermakna luas sekali di medio 2008 ini. Waktu liburan kemarin, ada banyak hal yang baru pertama saya lakukan, dimulai dari naik taksi tengah malam dari bandara ke rumah (biasanya ortu memaksa menjemput meskipun saya bilang tidak usah; thanx Mom, Dad :D). Kemudian, saya juga mencoba pertamakali naik kendaraan air yang namanya jetski. Riding that thing feels like riding boom-boom car on water, except there's no cage or other vehicles to limit my speed. Pertamakali naik gokart di venue gokart pertama yang ada di Makassar. Pertamakali naik becak bersama ibu jam 10 malam hanya untuk beli gorengan di ujung jalan.

Juga, di medio 2008 ini, ada "pertamakali" lain yang terjadi dalam hidup saya. Saya sudah jadi siswa, sudah jadi bagian dari institusi pendidikan, selama 19 tahun dan ini pertamakalinya saya tinggal kelas.

Awalnya cukup berat bagi saya untuk mengakui bahwa saya sekarang seorang "veteran", istilah di kampus saya untuk orang yang tinggal kelas. Dulunya saya berpikir bahwa tinggal kelas adalah suatu aib. "Kalau bisa lulus lebih cepat, kenapa harus berlama-lama?" kata orang. Sampai beberapa tahun lalu, saya tidak menentang anggapan itu. Namun dalam beberapa tahun belakangan, sebelum saya sendiri yang mengalami tinggal kelas, apa yang saya lihat di kehidupan akademik mahasiswa menunjukkan bahwa anggapan itu salah. Dengan tinggal kelas, mengulang program, mengulang mata kuliah, atau apapun namanya, tidak berarti bahwa seseorang itu bodoh, tidak mau belajar, dan semacamnya. Mereka hanya gagal di kesempatan pertama dan sedang mencoba kesempatan lain. Apa salahnya itu?

Yang sekarang saya rasakan adalah rasa malu karena pernah sepakat dengan anggapan bahwa tinggal kelas itu aib. Saya kini seorang veteran, seorang yang tinggal kelas, dan saya bangga dengan status itu karena saya diberikan kesempatan untuk mempelajari suatu hal lebih lama, bertemu dengan teman-teman baru, dan lebih memaknai kesempatan kedua yang saya nikmati sekarang.
Karena tidak selalu ada kesempatan kedua..., atau begitulah kata orang.

What can an old friend mean to me

I have an old friend. I knew her since 4 years ago. We went together to this matriculation class for college newbies at Indonesia University. But since we went to different faculty, I hadn't heard much of her.
Now she works in a government office, The Vice President's Office to be exact, while I still attend med school. She rent a room near my campus so now we meet occasionally. And I've been having this feeling ever since. It's just..., I don't know, I just don't know.
I mean, all I felt when around her is completed. She has the quality I've been lacking. Positive, adorable attitude, more adorable physical performance; what else I can expect from a woman?
Sometime I imagine holding her hand legally as a loving husband..., what a dream.

Tight Money Policy

Harga BBM yang naik menyusul harga bahan makanan yang sudah naik sebelumnya bikin mahasiswa rantau seperti saya harus mengatur ulang rencana anggaran bulanan biar di akhir bulan tidak tiba-tiba “rajin” puasa Senin-Kamis atau puasa Daud.

Syukurnya orangtua saya bisa termasuk berkecukupan sehingga selama ini bisa mengirimi uang saku bulanan lebih dari yang saya butuhkan untuk hidup di perantauan sehingga saya bisa agak leluasa menaikkan rencana anggaran bulanan.

Setelah dihitung-hitung, agar orangtua tidak terlalu terbebani, saya harus bisa menghabiskan maksimal Rp. 20 ribu perhari untuk ongkos makan dan transpor. Jadi pilihannya antara bangun pagi dan buru-buru mandi untuk mengejar bis kuning UI (gratis tentunya) yang mengantar ke kampus jam 6.30 pagi ATAU berleha-leha dan terancam tidak makan malam karena ketinggalan bis kuning dan harus naik angkot ke kampus yang menghabiskan Rp.4500 dari jatah Rp.20 ribu yang seharusnya bisa dicadangkan untuk makan malam. Pilihan yang berat bagi seorang mahasiswa, Kawan....

Begitulah, jika saya saja yang tidak miskin dihadapkan pada pilihan-pilihan yang makin sulit, maka tidak terbayang kepusingan +80% rakyat Indonesia yang masih hidup jauh di bawah standar kelayakan menghadapi inflasi yang pada hakikatnya adalah pemiskinan yang sistematis.

Kadang saya bermimpi pemerintah Indonesia punya nyali sebesar gunung dan menasionalisasi Exxon, Freeport dan perusahaan pencuri lainnya. Atau memancung semua koruptor dari kantor desa sampai gedung DPR. Atau menyediakan tanah untuk taman kota atau fasilitas umum lain alih-alih membangun mal di kota-kota besar yang semakin menjijikkan. Apa daya, mimpi saya sebatas mimpi. Saya harus bangun dan mengejar bis kuning jam 6.30....

Menjadi Mahasiswa FK

Dosen saya bilang, jadi mahasiswa kedokteran itu membuat orang terlalu cepat menjadi tua. Alasannya, mahasiswa kedokteran (terutama tingkat lanjut) selalu dihadapkan pada pasien dan masalahnya, termasuk masalah yang tidak tercakup dalam ranah medis. Selain itu mereka selalu dituntut bersikap selayaknya dokter yang sudah "jadi" meskipun nyata-nyata masih dalam proses menjadi dokter. Dari segi pelayanan, pasien sedapat mungkin tidak tahu bahwa yang merawatnya "hanya" mahasiswa alias koas.

Saya bilang, jadi mahasiswa kedokteran itu justru menunda kedewasaan. Kata teman saya juga begitu. Kami datang kuliah jam 7, pulang jam 3 sore (kecuali kalau kena giliran jaga di RS). Persis siswa SMU. Setelah 4 tahun di kampus, kami masih kuliah sementara mahasiswa fakultas lain sudah lulus, bahkan sudah kerja dan menghidupi diri sendiri dari gaji pertamanya. Rata-rata perlu 1,5 sampai 2,5 tahun lagi untuk menjadi dokter yang "jadi". Di saat itu, teman seangkatan saya di SMU mungkin sudah punya 2 anak.

Memang tidak banyak, tapi di setiap angkatan koas pasti ada yang setuju dengan pendapat saya. Intinya, memilih jadi mahasiswa kedokteran itu keputusan yang harus dipikirkan sangat matang. Sekali masuk, baru bisa keluar "baik-baik"setelah 5-6 tahun.

Oh, lamanya jadi anak FK....

Another personality test

Jakarta, 25 April 2008

Terbangun jam setengah dua malam dalam keadaan belum mandi dan dunia yang terlelap. Sungguh lama sensasi ini tidak datang kepadaku yang sibuk dalam terangnya pagi. Sungguh lama sudah aku tak mendengar apa yang dikatakan embun pagi. Sungguh lama sudah Sampidra tak bercakap dengan dini.

Dan lagi-lagi, para wanita datang. Tidak, bukan ke dalam kamar bau ini, melainkan ke pikiran kosong yang masih setengah terbangun. Ke dalam jiwa yang secara refleks menyalakan komputer dan mendengarkan siaran radio tengah malam tanpa penyiar.

Wanita pertama datang melalui sms yang dikirimnya padaku sejak dua malam berturut-turut. Kuyakin itu bukan sms apa-apa, sekedar memberikan semangat dalam perjalanan panjang yang akan segera berakhir. Tapi karena tidak ada wanita lain yang melakukan hal itu, entah kenapa perlakukan itu membuatku merasa istimewa. Entahlah, kurasa ini hanya maifestasi lain dari kesendirian kronik yang kuidap.

Oh, tidak, radio sialan itu memutar lagu Reza feat. Masaki Ueda – Biar Menjadi Kenangan. Pilihan lagu yang sangat tepat untuk menyindirku. Menyindir aku yang membatu dalam kenangan akan wanita kedua yang juga datang malam ini. Yang mungkin akan kutemui dalam 2-3 hari ke depan. Yang telah membuatku menertawai diri setelah 4 tahun berkubang sendirian dalam harapan kosong. Yang kini terpampang jelas di hadapanku seperti semeja makanan yang dihidangkan pada orang yang tidak lagi lapar.

Dan yang ketiga datang menumpang rasa lapar. Mengingatkanku pada dua makan malam bersamanya. Makan malam, lalu jalan-jalan bersama, lalu mengantarnya belanja, lalu pulang bersama; ahh, betapa mungkin semua mengipasi percikan hangat yang kini jadi bara. Tak tahu apa yang akan terjadi seandainya bara itu terus dikipasi jadi api...

Lama

Lama tiada menulis. Sel otakku kering semua. Siklusku cuma bangun pagi - ke kampus - pulang - tidur lagi. Tiada puisi, tiada cerita.

Lama tiada berpikir. Jalan tol antara otakku dan lidahku jadi berlubang-lubang. Tambah malas bicara. Tambah malas komentar. Persis jalanan Jakarta yang bopeng dimakan hujan.

Lama tiada bercinta. Terlalu banyak wanita tapi tiada yang bisa bikin aku angkat dagu dari aspal becek yang terus kotori ujung celana.

Sudah lama aku tiada.

Berhenti mengada.

Mengapa harus mengada bila aku bisa tetap hidup dalam kematian?

Cerita 100 kata (2)

“Makasih ya, yang tadi enak banget. Aku belum pernah nyoba yang itu.”
“Masak sih?”
“Bener, nggak percaya?”
“Percaya kok, Mas....”
Dan dia pun tersenyum. Jenis senyum yang meluluhkan semua kegilaan dunia dalam sebentuk bibir.
“Besok kesini lagi nggak?”
“Besok, dan besoknya lagi, sampai,…”
“Sampai kapan?”
“Sampai kamu mau aku bawa pergi dari sini.”
Dan dia pun tertawa, menertawakan kenaifanku.
* * *
“Profesor? ” Sejak kapan kekasihku memanggilku “profesor”?
“Profesor Gantar?” Ternyata Asta, tangan kananku. Barusan aku teringat dia lagi.
“Maaf Profesor, ada alasan khusus mengapa selalu makan siang di warteg ini yang jauh begini dari rumah sakit Anda, Profesor?”

Tired.

My soul has been wandering so far only to reach square one.
I asked me what's been achieved, there's only one big shiny "?" hanging above my nose.
Just like Radiohead's Creep," ... what the hell am I doing here; I don't belong here...."
It feels like slowly digested inside some beast's bowel; a mind-numbing pain

I swing from one day to another,
like taking the steep, uphill route of a mountain
Only think 2 steps ahead, never more
Just to maintain sanity in the thickened air

Will there be a heavenly summit?