Not Letting Go

Someone once told me that every person who pass our life will leave a scar on us. Sometimes, some people who we catch a glimpse of just even their shadow can leave so much more scar than those whose been there our whole lives. But for some, their shadow remains shadow.

He says that we wanted to be remembered; that our whole lives we tried to leave a rememberance of our damned existence, but in the end we're all doomed as our ancestors are.

He believed that all we do is leave more scars as we are to help the world in order to leave more mark - marks of which feels more worthy to us than the previous ones. But what is the standard of a "better mark" when our perspectives of everything is so different to be squared as "a standard"?

But this is a story of how we are remembered: as a class; as a family; a stronghold; a home. A short story of a shadow which leaves a deeper scar than people who have known us our whole lives.

As all good stories start, we all start as nothing. We are a non-existent unthinkable form of class. We used to not want to be classified as a “social class”. We wanted to stay put with our “a”s and “b”s. But yes, we can’t resist time to make us what they want. We are finally “the Socials”.

And it ends today, we finish what the school once started for us with such grand closing of a graduation. We stood in line – hand in hand – not wanting to ever part. We want to believe that we were meant for our lifetime; but this graduation thing made us part ways for real.

Their shadow leaves more mark than I could’ve ever imagined. And trust me. When I say I want to matter, these people let me leave my mark within them. I left my mark.

...

17 Mei 2015; 23.53

The bus that later becomes our haven for the week witnessed the laughter in which evaporates within the 16 immature kids who tried to change the world. The road in which took us home listened to all whispers and screams the heart makes and I hope it remembers. I hope it will remember the thing it brought us before we really separate: the laughter, the togetherness, the life of our younger years before the world took away our sanity and the innocence of our childhood completely.

I am home wherever they are.

But this is the last night, the last tour-bus ride, the last literal hours of our lives spent together as the real 12IPS. I told you once that I wanted to finish school so bad with the fastest time but comparing it to now that we're done with it, I don't want to  ever be done.

This is the last time I'll spent the longest hours with the same faces I've grown so fond of; the life I'm really into this past 2 years; the stories in which I grew to love and hate at the same time. I grew in them - my comfort zone; my shell. I haven't outgrown mine, and I don't want to move. JUST. YET.

I won't let go; I won't forget this. High school; malioboro; Bromo; bus; the road; all of them will be the silent eyes and ears of what happened. The story of our once younger-self that we won't ever regain our whole lives. Tunas bangsa, God, I can never be more grateful of your damned existence.

...

"Now I've got you in my space I won't let go of you; you lift my heart up when the rest of me is down"

...

Dan gue baru sadar bahwa gue ngga bakal terbiasa sama satu hal: perpisahan. I will never. Ever. Never. Get used to it. Ngga bisa. Ngga mau. Ngga bakal. Ngga pernah.
Abis ini gue bakal kesepian lagi; sendirian lagi tanpa wajah2 yang seminggu terakhir mengisi hari2 gue. Gue tidak ingin percaya bahwa ini akan segera berakhir sesegera ini; namun waktu menolak pemberhentiannya. Kini, yang harus gue lakukan hanya belajar. Belajar menerima bahwa perjuangan gue di SMA sudah benar-benar selesai; bahwa gue harus melangkah maju lagi dan merelakan yang ada dibelakang.

Jika gue punya kuasa untuk memutar waktu, gue ingin memutarnya untukmu, sahabat. 18/18.

The story's long over done now; but this trip ain't ending: it lives in my heart forever.

You call these people friends? Nah, they're family y'all –red