Saya sangat mengantuk. Rasanya, sudah lama sekali tidak merasakan tidur ataupun istirahat yang berkualitas. Saya jarang pulang kampung, bahkan hanya untuk sekedar mengirim pesan singkat pada Ibu bahwa saya di sini baik-baik saja. Biasanya saya sering mengirim pesan berisi keluhan-keluhan ingin pulang, ataupun kelelahan dengan semua kegiatan kampus. Tapi kali ini tidak.
Mungkin saya sudah tidak sanggup mengeluh lagi. Lagi pula apa yang perlu dikeluhkan? Toh, dari awal hingga saat ini semua masih sama melelahkannya, atau bahkan lebih. Saya bersyukur saya sudah jauh lebih nrimo di nyaris penghujung semester tua ini. Saya hanya akan menjalani semua dengan sebaik-baiknya.
Baru awal semester 6, tapi rasanya mental sudah begitu diuji. Ketakutan—ketakutan terbesar saya, dan masa depan yang seolah-olah sudah begitu dekat namun belum saya apa-apakan.
Semoga, semester ini saya akan terus baik-baik saja.
Sometimes, when it’s raining, I think about you. I think about you all the way over there, with all that ocean and all those years between us. I think about if you’re doing well, what your bedroom looks like, if you enjoy your job. I think about the times when there wasn’t any ocean between us and my time was your time. I think about when I knew the answers about you, because they were my answers as much as they were yours. Sometimes, when it’s raining, I wonder if it’s raining where you are too.
Sometimes, when it’s raining, I pretend I’m kissing you. I pretend we’re lying in bed all morning with the grey half light and the patter of rain on the roof and the sloshing sound tires make on the bitumen as they speed by the window outside. I pretend you’re bringing me tea and we’re sitting side by side in bed reading the paper, you telling me the comics and me failing at Sudoku. I pretend we’re playing Quiz Master and we’re winning. Sometimes, when it’s raining, I close my eyes and pull the duvet over my face, and pretend you’re breathing by my side.
Sometimes, when it’s raining, I feel a little lonely. The grey sky reminds me so much of London’s sky, the greyness that enveloped us, even in the summer. I miss my friends, my family, you, especially when my feet are wet and I’m so far from home. I wonder if you’re thinking about me too, and I know you’re not, and I get to feeling so isolated and worn out. Sometimes, when it’s raining, I wish I really was alone, that I had nothing in the past, and only a moment to hide from the world while the sky releases madness.
Sometimes, when it’s raining, I listen to love songs. I plan my wedding and it’s not to you, even though I once thought it would be. I sashay across my room and concoct fantasy love stories in which someone falls for me, madly and passionately. Not the way that you did but in a way which would last forever with every conceivable grandness announcing its arrival. I think about falling in love again, and I promise myself I will, one day. Then I put that promise inside a box, and I put the box in my pocket. Sometimes, when it’s raining, I like to make believe.
Sometimes, when it’s raining, I begin to feel alive. I start to have those clichéd thoughts like “everything is washed away”. I think of you fondly, without remorse or longing, and decide that the rain will bring me a new beginning. My mind clears and I begin to see the future spanning before me, as I turn away from the past laid out behind. There are ways for me to say goodbye and when it’s raining, sometimes I say them all in whispers you’ll never hear. Sometimes, when it’s raining, I like to run outside in all my clothes, and let the water to soak through to my skin.”