02.30am Thoughts

The elevator has its own story as it witnesses the queue  of the rush in the morning. Right here I am,  blaming my not-a-morning person trait for coming late.  You never seem to be out of my sight  as I capture the back of your posture,  standing only a few people ahead of me. If the elevator could see,  it would only see my urge  to engulf all this damn awkwardness; where silence is prominent and it is well pronounced by the unsaid "good morning" If the elevator could feel,  It would empathize with how the meaningless grimace on my face has always been a regret answer  of when people asked if things ever happened for real. The elevator has its own story as it witnesses the girl who is dying  from hiding her feelings Jakarta, August 26th 2022

  It still becomes a question  What comes first between the atmosphere and the impression? You're the sunny blue sky, the radiant smile that warms everyone's heart.  Being in your surrounding is what they call blessings. Days are passing by. To me, they're just another episode of me getting to know you.  To show me how much your presence has taken part in giving colors to my blank page. It's been moment to moment. The time we indirectly spent together, in crowded rooms, behind high-dividing walls. And not even a chance in my daydreams gives a glimpse  about what we could've been. Jakarta, August 14th 2022 To those who are still living for the hope of it all.