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That night the angel of Mikail played his role, which is to lower the hujun from the sky (Alue-Awee). Thousands of splashing water interrupted the chat and warm coffee at Singapore Cafee, as cold as nothing. The scent of coffee perched between the small circle filled with 3 of my friends, Rizki, Nanda and a little 'silly' Abul. All three of my friends are my fellow villagers, Rizki contemporaries with me campus. While Abul and Nanda are still in grade 3 high school. No problem is not, we have their own way to enjoy life-living.
"Ki, this is my first short story." While I handed my laptop. Deftly, Rizki checked my short story and gave a powerful discourse. "Where's Sat, look at it." Abul's voice with a curious tone or feeling the need to help me do not know, but my laptop is taken and he peruses the word per word. That night I was like a kindergarten kid who was trapped in a crowd of young intellectuals, activists, and literary specialists.
Light bulbs come together with the words that people throw. This cafee is one of the gathering places in my village, the bitter-sweet talk about the country, the social circumstances, women and love is the theme that is often discussed from a bunch of 'flesh' here. One thing that is difficult to let go, whatever our early goals of coffee, it will be time for us to talk about love. Yes .. Yes, it's like we're hanging out in a coffee shop but the plane is avocado or iced tea. 'Mlipir'.
Like that night, when Rizki and Abul were busy pretending to be my mentor, I interrupted between Nanda's hectic prank with his gadget, "You, last vent, are you still the same?" I asked softly. Nanda put her gadget, "Drop out Sat". His voice sounded sternly not as gaze as his eyes. "Loh kok can you?" I asked curiously. "Yes, yes bisalah Sat". He's more like his new acquaintance, whom he knows when he ngetrip, child slankers, businessmen rongsok! "Said Nanda holding his coffee cup.
I know, this cynicism is not for him, slankers or rotten entrepreneurs. Our eyes with a compact fixed on this figure Nanda. Rizki and Abul put my laptop, as if my short story is not important or they think my short story is correct, I do not know. Before Nanda went on, I remembered that time again, where Rizki and I were still in second semester, and they were in the second year of high school.
Nanda who every Saturday night faithfully hold her handphone and always waiting for the woman to just communicate. Yes, because that time, she was still in dayah. So only on Sunday nights they can communicate, even from their friends' phones. Not only that, but Nanda is always faithful in many ways, she proves that she can really keep her commitment. And until now, he can. I envy.
The rain stopped, but I do not know if the clouds still clung to the sky or not. Soon the Nanda connects the story, "yesterday he .. Bla-bla-bla, and I know that guy .. Bla-Bla-Bla, but the woman's father .. Bla-bla-bla .. But on the other hand, maybe I Must be self-conscious, learn sincerity, or maybe this is a reproach because I love his creatures too much more than his creator Bla-bla-bla. " Said Nanda while looking at me. Now I know, the clouds are still there though dark cover up.
Instantly all the pillars of a friend to be 'betrayed' by the mainset of matrealism or further we call hedonism. May I be wrong. But that's exactly what happened, even though I did not mean to antagonize her. "Well, I do not have to be sad, you know, I was left behind twice, even though yesterday in my poetry offerings I wrote special for him, but it ran aground!" Said Rizki who likes to 'berpuitis' with the word "selo." this. Abul started to laugh, as if he led me and everyone together to follow his nervous laughter.
"Poet, bitch, why are you?" They expect answers from people who might be wrong, they look at me. I can only say, "taking off is the loving peak." "How do we feel PeDe has, whereas we ourselves are not our own." Back I continue my sentence. "Love is a gift, not a compulsion, so let him fly as far as anything he wants, as long as we are trying to be the best, leave the ending with God." I laugh, because I feel wise. But then I no longer look like a kindergarten kid.
My answer was confirmed again by Rizki and Nanda But at least my answer is groundless. I continued my nagging, "You may see that now you are only a caterpillar trapped in a spider's web, fearing to help you, or 'disgusted' to approach you for something, and prefer to help a butterfly that is also trapped, Butterflies are originally also a caterpillar, and what people often forget is too busy helping a caterpillar or a butterfly, but never thinking that a spider has not eaten.
"Sat's really philosophical." Said Nanda who was visible while digesting my sentence. Suddenly Rizki disconnected, "simplenya, we as men should try to be a garden that presents beautiful butterflies." So he said. "If only come pests, and the long dry season how dong ki?" I asked a little inconsequently. "Shit." He said with a laugh. "ha ha ha ha."
Sentrahku sentence says. "That's the art of living." Or "never mind, that's part of the path of destiny." But sometimes I still wonder why when we are serious, he is not as serious as us? vice versa. I have no idea. But that's the lesson, even though it's forged from rough and heavy hands but it's actually reinforcing. We have been treated to choice, resentment or rise. If you choose to be upset, you only choose to enjoy your unrest without finding a solution. But you know, I prefer to be upset, because at least I can write poetry. Do not copy. Choose to rise up, and do not have to busy looking for fun, but create that pleasure.
Being abandoned and leaving is a problem for all humans. Either now or someday, we must be abandoned or abandon the people we love or who love us. Resolute, sincere, and submit to God who knows all things. We are never burdened beyond the limits of our power, just as God did not create human beings to fly,! because God knows man can make a flying ship. Strong, we must fall if we want to rise.