Author: Anggun

“I am an introvert,” a sentence of which so many people have chosen to justify their behavior as they tried to divert themselves from others. As much I hate to admit that I have used it for several times in my early teenage years, I hate whenever somebody is using that sentence, especially when it said often. Whether we are introverts or extroverts, we do need our time alone. And when somebody is asking for one, kindly respect not to push their boundaries. We just have to accept that in life, while we are an important being for somebody, it might not be the case for some others.

It was one of the things that I learnt during the pandemic, when we have been forced to isolate ourselves from the crowd that we already accustomed to. So much so, that everyone is forgetting the introvert being within and finding ourselves being unnecessarily involved in someone else’s life. Especially when it comes to covid. It doesn’t matter who the person is, we just have to know. Selfish, but in hindsight, we have so many free times now.

Thus, in the middle of stressful event as well a constant of unnecessary attention from others, it was exciting to find myself with a couple of summery basket of packages on my front porch this morning, coming from ones that really matter. Movies suggestions, a couple bottle of drinks, sweets and savory dishes, three good books and some thoughtful notes on the side, all they do is nothing but making me want to go, ran outside and being with the people I love and care about.

In truth, while the pandemic is one of the scariest times I have encounter in life, I have never been so comforted by others in isolation. I held the basket tight to keep myself warm and carry on with the day.

“…Though I like to look down at the earth from above, I would miss all the places and people I love. So although I may go I’ll be coming home soon, cause I don’t want to live on the moon.”

No, I don’t want to live on the moon.

Cloudy storm as a string of instruments, a countless blast of thunder that has been ringing for hours doesn’t seem to caught my attention this evening. My mind had been busy since the morning comes, I almost forgot to let the shivers come through. I couldn’t remember though whether the storm were actually happening outside my room or simply in my head, but I could hear them screaming.

Along with the loudest thunder, I spent the rest of the evening screaming on top of my lung, because the only escape I could have afford for today is my own imagination. I’d take the vacation some other time, but as for tonight, as well as some other night that had passed, I count myself to sleep wishing that I have the courage to face what has been written on my calendar.

It is quite early for everyone to be waking up at this time of the day. A loud chiming sound of a bell just woken up the entire neighborhood at three in the morning to a complete monochromatic scene. Acting exactly like it was an 1820s movie, every eyes on this sleepy neighborhood drawn to a beautiful lady down at the park who is just stepping out of her carriage – the one with the bell that woke us all.

“Who is she?” would have been the initial thought that come up to everyone in this neighborhood, but eventually she beat us to a thundering sound of “Hello!” I could have sworn that this feels like a part of one confusing dream for everyone, which is why nobody had come running. Although as soon as they realized that it wasn’t, they quickly rushed themselves to the park as she starts wandering around in confusion.

I kept staring at her from the distant as I couldn’t work up the courage to come down. She doesn’t belong here. Her silky and bright shade of complexion couldn’t have match anyone in this neighborhood. Even the gold, embroidered flowery pattern on her dress is way too stunning for anyone to afford. Her lifestyle wouldn’t be quite as complimentary compared to anyone in the neighborhood, but she’d be perfect for the gorgeous mansion up on that hill.

Her porcelain collections could have been displayed neatly as she warns her grandchildren to stop roaming around on her precious living room, where she keep the portrait of her late father. Worry might come as part of her age, but she’d get 20 personal assistants on her side.

Every morning, her doorbell could have waken up the entire neighborhood to a lovely musical routine as her children come to visit, but she wouldn’t bother to join. Though I’d take a part on that ensemble in a heartbeat, it wouldn’t be fair to her.

As usual, I was taken by my own imagination for too long that the park had gone emptied. I couldn’t follow the rest of her narrative, but I hope she is okay now.

“…If you could look into the future, would you? If you could see it, would you even want to?”

I have been sitting on this corner of the room for four days now, asking those exact two questions over and over again in my head. Does the ability to see the future had actually been any helpful to anyone, ever? Why bother looking at the future knowing that the people you loved are here now? Why busy seeking the invincible, when you already got plenty?

Keeping your eyes wandering into the distance for awhile does make your mind travel far – I wonder what does she think about in between those teardrops. By now, I am guessing that I was the only one in this room who noticed those tiny drops that falling down on her face once in a while – it quickly disappears after a minute. The others are busy, though I noticed that they quietly shed a tear in between conversations. I wonder if one day I could be as though as any of them.

Everyone on her side are fighting for a hand to hold onto, but as soon as another silence starts to creep in, she constantly left out of the conversation. Being physically still for weeks is unimaginably awful, but thinking that she couldn’t spit a word of her own must have been killing her – too painful that I couldn’t bear to look her in the eyes or even to step myself closer to her.

“I am scared of the dark” is what she told me when I asked about her window being the brightest one in this neighborhood, especially at night. I nodded along at the time, but as the evening comes, I could feel now that the weather starts a little bit colder, the lights turn a little bit dimmer, the room gets a little bit bigger, the crowd seems a little bit stranger, and the voice sounds a little bit louder.

As the thought kicked in, I finally found the courage to walked myself forward and sat on her side. Quick for her age, she finally reached my head as she gestured me for a hug. I slowly rest my head close to hers as I quietly whispered: it’s all right, it’s going to be all right..

Sing along to a single knock on my door, I finally made it to this quick and necessary getaway I have been longing for months. A generous friend of mine let me count myself in on his trip to one of his favorite spot on the neighborhood – which starts by us diving through this woods across the lake – the one I stare once every so often.

The road leads us to this enormous abandoned water tower by the far end of the neighborhood. Hiding behind the biggest and oldest group of trees around, his curiosity must have led him to be one of the luckiest person who got to enjoy this mesmerizing part of the neighborhood that no one got to see.

Struck by how beautiful and deserted this place is, he offers me a hand as we start climbing up the ladder in front of us. Standing higher than everything that has been built around this neighborhood, I can feel that the chaotic and noisy part of the world had suddenly turned to silence once I reached the highest part of the tower.

“Have you ever been there before?”, he asked. “Let’s go there!”, he continues as he starts pointing his finger to countless things he loved about this neighborhood and one that lies beyond: these lively houses 100 feet under us, that hill up on the far west, those skyscrapers that stand long enough to start messing up the beautiful horizon around us, a tiny shade of the shy and gorgeous evening sky that hasn’t come up yet, the dark and soothing part of the sea, and even the unconscious wonderful crowds he once encountered.

As beautiful as it all sounds, my imagination could only travel as far as this neighborhood had been laid out. All of the most beautiful sights in it have been nothing but places I desperately wished to have coexisted with and shown to others. The wonderful people I met have been nothing but a figment of my imagination. Thus, all I can say for now is that I was incredibly thankful to spent this afternoon with someone, and for the invitation, I would love to go to several other places someday.

I might have been hypnotized all along, but I am assured that the extreme feeling of joy is the only thing I could have felt this entire afternoon.