Pain In Distance

Until this afternoon, when I reopened my old diary to examine the past traces of your presence, a paper flew down. The color is dull, tangled, almost torn, and there is handwriting on one page.

I took the paper. I just remember this paper I found first in the campus mosque ...

Where you used to sit when you meet me for the last time, before leaving as a graduate.

Is it possible?

It was not mine, and it contained a short poem about impossibility.

And the last time, you asked me what to do if you missed someone when you were on the oceans. I answer by choosing a night star in a single eye for you to look at when it's longing to roar.

I do not know if you did it, but that's how I was when the shadow of your face haunted my nightdream. I also hope that you look at the same star as me.



At a glance, my head seemed to spin fast, as if to marathon looking for proof I accidentally missed.

What is this? Is it possible ... This poem is your handwriting ... And the impossibility here is about you, who must forget your intention just to express the feeling ... To me?

"Now is the time,
Today, an end forms a dead end
When I get an answer to all my questions
The reason why my tongue is always out,
Or these eyes always skip you in passing
Me and you ... Maybe it's not there for one. "

Instantly, my memory of you is recorded in my head. I remember…

You're so gracious to welcome me as a new employee.
You always appear whenever I think of you, or when I'm confused about my job.
Your offer for dinner in a café together was so promising, though I finally refused because I suspect it was suspicious.
The way you walk with your umbrella on your way home is really captivating, and your smile when we split up is very bewitching.
You're so innocent when I ask permission to copy your uniform with a T-shirt, when we were alone and stuck together in the phone box because of the rain.
Your greeting every time we meet on the street is warm and friendly, and your clapping in my head, when I feel alienated.
All those memories are warm in your mind, lulled with the fact that you have expressed your feelings to me.

But you in the past?
Your nanar eyes staring at me from behind the library bookcase, after I give you the book you're looking for through a book slit,
My strange feeling that always haunted the presence of a hidden figure watching me,
Your last question about my longing and my answer about the stars,
A glimpse of the shadows I saw in the auditorium and behind the mosque's hijab in tears,
And the smile and soft eyes I saw when I accidentally turned around when the veil was drawn in the middle of our conversation ...
At that time, you asked me about my life, also asked maybe you got into my life too.
Then this poem ...

I understand now.

And somehow my legs wanted to run. I ran, darted out the door, and quickly drove down the street you used to go home. No matter the white uniform littered with blood spots and the drug is still attached to the body, I keep running through the distance between us.

Not just the distance between kosku and your rental house. But, also the distance that is excavated because of our closeness and ignorance in reading the hearts of each other. And I'll keep running until I get your tall, brown figure standing a meter in front of my nose.

In front of you, I examine the fire you mean through the cornea of ​​your cornea. I smiled that soft smile on your lips to kill all my doubts, no matter the fitnah slander pierced my heart because of it. And in front of your eyes, with love that has been rooted in the heart and fragrant fragrant, I torn the paper in my hand and then I throw it into the air. I told you that I love you, and I prove that what you are writing is wrong.

Yes. No more weakness and fear.
I have closed the distance between us.

And with tears in my eyes, and tightness in my chest, I managed to create the smile. However, I never thought if your smile exceeds the beautiful arc of the monk that adorns the heavenly horizon. More beautiful than I imagined, and so warm when you then hold my hand tight and whisper softly,

"I will pick you up. Certainly. Because I'm sure ... My destiny is you. "
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