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aku keluar dari perangkap,
luka menganga seperti mulut cangkir retak,
dan dunia bersorak: selamat hidup lagi!
tapi siapa peduli hidup kalau yang tersisa
hanya tubuh ini, baring seperti boneka,
laksana air mata yang lupa jatuh,
hanya jadi saksi, bukan pelaku.
kadang aku ingin tidur,
tapi di mana letak tidur bagi yang sudah mati
di dalam hidup?
dan di mana letak hidup
bagi yang cuma menunggu?
Nia leaned against the counter of the coffee shop. Her oversized sunglasses hiding the existential dread that seemed to seep into her life whenever she was single.
“No, seriously, he’s perfect,” she declared to Phoebe, her best friend, who was half-listening while stirring her oat milk latte. Nia was on Week Three of dating Joe, a guy whose most distinguishing feature was that he was available.
“Perfect? Like, what’s his thing?” Phoebe asked, her tone laced with suspicion. “Is he funny? Into niche vinyl records? Does he rescue dogs? Or humans? Please tell me he rescues something.”
Nia hesitated, her fingers fiddling with her straw. Joe was...fine. He liked podcasts about productivity and owned an air fryer he was unreasonably proud of. But if we're being completely honest.... she wasn’t with him for the sake of romance. She was with him because the silence of her own thoughts was deafening, and being alone felt like willingly entering a haunted house.
“His thing is...he’s stable,” Nia said finally, grinning like that was the ultimate prize. “Stable is sexy, right?”
Phoebe raised an eyebrow. “Stable is boring. He sounds like a guy who keeps Excel sheets for fun.”
“He does! Isn’t that cute?” Nia laughed, a little too loudly, deflecting the pang of unease rising in her chest. Joe was a human shield against her own insecurities—one of those shields that looked sturdy but probably couldn’t stop a marshmallow.
***
Two weeks later, Nia found herself sitting across from Joe at a sushi restaurant, nodding as he explained something about his "bulletproof morning routine." It hit her then—this wasn’t love; it wasn’t even infatuation. It was a cleverly disguised escape route. A defense mechanism with a charming smile and an impressive knowledge of kitchen gadgets.
As Joe enthusiastically detailed his plans to optimize their date nights, Nia blurted out, “Do you ever feel like you’re dating someone just to avoid yourself?” The words hung in the air like an overstuffed balloon, ready to pop.
Joe blinked. “Uh… I guess I don’t think about stuff like that.”
Nia smiled, this time for real, and flagged down the waiter for the check. It wasn’t Joe’s fault, but she was done pretending she was fine with being her own project manager. Maybe it was time to sit with the silence and see what it had to say.
“Thanks, Joe,” she said as they walked out.
“For what?” he asked, puzzled.
“For being a great distraction,” Nia replied. "But I think I need to work on, you know, being alone without spontaneously combusting."
They’d been together through a lot—midnight talks, weekend drives, lazy Sunday mornings. The kind of easy everyday moments that feel like they’ll stretch on forever. But tonight, walking side by side, the silence between them felt heavier than ever.
Dinner was fine, in a polite, distant sort of way. They talked about work, swapped stories, filled the air with small talk, but neither of them seemed to reach out, really. And with each pause, she felt the gap between them widening.
On their way back, she tried to lighten the mood. “Remember our first date? You laughed the whole time I tried to hide that coffee stain on my sweater.”
He chuckled, the kind of laugh that felt more like memory than joy. “You were so embarrassed.”
It was quiet again after that, and as they reached her street corner, he stopped, looking down as if he’d found something incredibly interesting on the sidewalk.
“Maybe…we’re clinging to something we shouldn’t be,” he murmured.
She nodded, both of them knowing it was true but not quite ready to say it out loud.
They exchanged a few quiet goodbyes, both weighed down by things they knew they couldn’t carry anymore.
As she walked home alone, she couldn’t shake the thought: sometimes love is like an umbrella—a shelter in the rain but a burden when the sun comes back out.
***
Writer's Note:
I've been keeping a lot of extremely short stories like this in my vault. I'll set them free and let them breath some fresh air (by publishing them here).
She was running late and barely caught the elevator before it closed, wedging herself in next to a guy carrying a plant nearly as tall as he was. He was wrestling to keep it upright, his arm stretched awkwardly around the leafy branches.
“Rough day for the green guy?” she asked, smirking.
He looked over, a little breathless, and grinned. “You’d think I was moving a small tree, not a ficus.”
She laughed, crisp and authentic. “How’s it going? You need an extra hand?”
“Honestly, yeah,” he admitted, shifting the plant toward her. “I think it’s taking me hostage.”
She held one side of the plant as he rearranged his grip, and somehow, between the awkward balancing act and his half-joking apologies, she found herself enjoying the whole ridiculous moment.
When the elevator dinged, he looked at her and said, “Want to grab coffee sometime? I promise it’ll be a lot less...botanical.”
The engine sputtered once, twice, and then gave up entirely. A groan escaped before the car did, and the hazard lights blinked on like an apology to the line of cars forming behind.
“Need a hand?” The voice came from the car that had pulled up next to hers, window rolled down, music faint in the background.
“Unless you’re a mechanic or a magician, probably not,” she replied, leaning out to get a better look. He was in a faded hoodie, a ball cap backward on his head, and an expression somewhere between amused and genuinely helpful.
“Well, lucky for you, I’m both,” he quipped. “Hop in. There’s a garage a couple of blocks away.”
A pause. Not because she didn’t want help, but because this felt like a setup for either the beginning of a terrible true-crime podcast or the best ‘how we met’ story of all time.
“Promise not to kidnap me?”
“Promise not to criticize my playlist?” he shot back, holding up an air freshener shaped like a pineapple as if that was proof of trustworthiness.
She grabbed her bag, locked the car, and slid into the passenger seat. “This better be a short drive,” she warned with a grin.
She’d only ducked into the coffee shop to charge her phone and wait out the rain. She didn’t expect it to be packed, with just one empty seat left at the crowded counter.
He glanced over and nodded at the empty stool. “Go for it. Perfect view of everyone dodging the rain,” he said, his grin easy and warm.
She took the seat, pulling out her phone. “Thanks. I’m about two minutes from a dead battery.”
“Is it that kind of day?” he asked with a smirk, gesturing to the charging station. “I’m Joe, by the way.”
“Joe…” she echoed. “Is that short for Jonathan?”
“Nah. Just Joe.” He smiled like he was used to getting that question. “Nothing fancy.”
She took him in—there was something about him that was different. She’d met a lot of Joes: all a bit cocky, good-looking, always with that self-assured “I got this” vibe. But this Joe had a quiet kind of charm, like he was entirely comfortable just… being here.
Sophie stood in front of the mirror, brushing through her tangled hair, faint traces of last night’s tears clinging to her lashes. The breakup had been clean, no big dramatic scene, just a slow unraveling. She knew it was for the best, but that didn’t make it easier.
Her phone buzzed with a text from her best friend, Mia: "Coffee? I’m not letting you spend another Saturday afternoon rewatching rom-coms and pretending it’s all good."
Sophie smiled, because Mia had a point. She could wallow, or she could be a little more herself—the self who used to laugh over cheap coffee and argue about whether the Croissant Girl or the Muffin Guy was the best pastry choice.
In the café, Mia’s face lit up when she saw Sophie. “Look at you,” she said, reaching for a hug. “I know the post-breakup glow is usually just dehydration and lack of sleep, but I swear you’re pulling it off.”
Sophie laughed, something light and free. “Thanks.”
They spent the next few hours talking about everything except the ex—work, random news, the latest Netflix doc. At some point, Sophie realized her heart didn’t hurt as much. Maybe it would again later, but for now, she was just Sophie, sitting in a café with a friend, laughing at things that were completely unrelated to some boy she'd likely forget someday.
And that felt like enough.
"Is crashing into people, like, your hobby or something?" Nate asked, one eyebrow raised as he steadied Emma by the shoulders.
She blinked up at him, momentarily dazed. “Well, it's either that or calculus club, and this one’s more interactive.”
A grin spread across his face, clearly entertained. “And here I thought football practice was intense.”
Emma shrugged, brushing herself off as if nearly plowing into Nate Harrison was no big deal. “You should see me on a Monday morning. Total chaos.”
Nate chuckled, crossing his arms as he leaned against the locker beside her. “So, what’s your name, Miss Chaos?”
She lifted her chin, trying to match his casual confidence. “Emma,” she replied, slipping a note of challenge into her voice. “And you must be Nate, human obstacle extraordinaire.”
“Ouch.” He clutched his heart dramatically. “But fair enough. And hey, maybe next time, you’ll stick around to chat instead of running off to play bumper cars.”
She smirked, glancing at the clock. “Who says I won’t?”
With a quick wave, Emma slipped into the stream of students, leaving him behind, looking intrigued. Nate was still watching her, as if she’d somehow managed to surprise him, and she felt a small thrill. Maybe she had.
She’d just wrapped up practice and was waiting for her coffee order, scrolling through her phone, barely aware of the commotion around her. After an intense day on the court, she just wanted her iced latte and a moment to relax.
That’s when he crashed into her—literally. Tall and lanky, with an apologetic smile, he fumbled his cup and splashed cold coffee across her sneakers.
“Oh, God, I’m so sorry,” he stammered, grabbing napkins like his life depended on it. “I didn’t see you there.”
She laughed, brushing it off, used to her height making her impossible to miss. “Guess that’s a first for me,” she said, grinning as she wiped her shoes. “Most people usually see me coming from a mile away.”
He looked her up and down, taking in her six-foot frame, her athletic build. “Yeah, you’re definitely… hard to miss,” he replied, a smirk tugging at his lips.
“Is that so?” she asked, amused by his lack of intimidation—something she rarely found in people who weren’t also pro athletes.
“So, do you play basketball?” he asked, clearly just trying to make conversation.
“Close,” she shot back, arching an eyebrow. “Volleyball.”
He gave a sheepish laugh, clearly impressed. “Well, now I feel clumsy and out of my league.”
People never know how amazing I am because I keep the best parts of myself hidden away, reserved for moments only I can cherish.
The brilliance, the resilience, the dreams too bold to share—they’re mine to hold in quiet solitude.
I’ve learned that not everyone deserves to see the full extent of my light, so I let them glimpse only what’s necessary.
The rest remains locked within a secret universe, where I can truly be free, unjudged, and unapologetically whole.
I am alive and breathing, but you can never know how many times I’ve killed myself.
I’ve killed the version of me that perked up with excitement and anticipation.
I now always prepare for the worst to avoid disappointment.
I’ve killed that version too—the one who felt disappointed.
I now simply swallow whatever heart-wrenching truths I’m forced to endure.
I’ve buried them beneath layers of half-hearted smiles and silence, convincing myself it’s better this way.
I've carried them like stones in my chest, heavy yet hollow.
Aku memandangi air muka adikku. Telah mengenalnya sejak ia lahir ke bumi ini, mudah sekali kubaca isi pikirannya. Ia ingin pergi dari sini-- dari aku, ibuku, dan situasi sulit yang datang dengan keberadaan kami. Entah sejak kapan status kami berubah dari 'kekuatan' menjadi 'beban' baginya.
Itu tidak apa. Ingin pergi memutus hubungan dari orang yang menyulitkanmu adalah sebuah hal yang manusiawi. Aku memahaminya. Yang aku tidak mengerti, kenapa ia tidak bisa membaca sendiri apa yang sesungguhnya diinginkannya. Yang aku tidak mengerti, kenapa ia uring-uringan seolah-olah ia satu-satunya orang yang tidak bisa membaca isi hati terdalamnya.
Aku paham: adikku hanya ingin bahagia. Ia hanya ingin hidup bergelimang harta dan jauh dari kewajiban mengurusi hidupku dan ibukku. Menurutku itu sesuatu yang wajar-- mengingat seberapa sulit hari-hari yang harus dijalaninya di samping kami.
Meski begitu, aku berharap semoga adikku memahami kesedihanku. Membayangkan seorang adik yang berbagi gen denganku akan pergi jauh-- hidup dan bertumbuh -- ke suatu tempat yang mungkin akan membuat jalan kami (dan keturunan kami) tidak pernah bersilangan lagi.
"Aku pergi dulu, kak," katanya dari depan pintu kamar yang tertutup.
"Oke! Jangan lupa bawa bekal yang sudah kusediakan buatmu," jawabku lirih.
