January 20th 2006
Jakarta, my room.

I had to think of what should I wear for this afternoon, for no jeans left in the drawer. All favorites still well-packed in my black suitcase. Decided to wear the purple skirt. It had embroideries of darker purple in flower form, lining from the tip vertically towards the middle of it. And as my skirt wove into the taxi that brought me home and as I slipped off my 7 hours worn black top and changed it into a white loose t-shirt, thought bout things happpend today, with Bella Pollen's Hunting Unicorns by my side. More heartily, all those jazzy from Cosmopolitan FM on this Friday night. I pressed my abstract heart and push my eyelids hardily towards my eyes. Significantly trying to erect some eyedrop. And when the songs even cut my skin and walked steadily with my blood rhymes, I could not even cry.

come on, cry!

What for?

You have no one whose lips can be pressed with your emotion

So?

You must have to be sad

But I'm not

But you want to be sad

Yes. I've been trying. But I can't

Call for some help. You can't cry.