Putting a Fire on Gasoline

(Picture taken from weheartit.com)

If she hadn’t understood her attempt would be fruitless, she wouldn’t do it. Love confession has always been an enigma for everyone who has experienced a rejection in their lives. The simple things of uttering the truth had become a concept that would tend to be avoided if it is possible as they would endure the excruciating feelings within them of lying to themselves because of their paranoia of being rejected. However, our character doesn’t share the same sentiment as the others as she had fathom that the possibilities of being accepted are none. She had been rejected once, and it was a doleful memory however it wasn’t an obstacle for her to establish her intention to vocalize her feelings, she had planned, she had arranged everything. She had asked him out for the last time before he disappears from her life as their paths don’t cross again. She had seen the way the person had seen them—she had suspected he had seen her as colleagues, a figure who’s passing through in his life as she hadn’t given an remarkable impression upon him but only constant misunderstandings as their interests don’t intertwined, however she had fond of him nonetheless. Even though she didn’t fathom his ambitions or interest, she would merrily listen to it as he tried to do the same to her. They tried, they both tried to make each other happy, even though it laced within their serene silence betwixt them but they were happy. At the beginning, she wouldn’t say those things to him that would change their friendship. She didn’t know how he would react to this hence their meeting for the last time was a fruitless yet alluring day as their hands would intertwined and their mouths move rather erratic because there’s so much to talk but nothing about the truth. Had she refused the idea of confessing to him when she had an opportunity to do so whilst fixated her glance upon his, she eventually regretted the decision she had made. She hadn’t seen him for couple of hours and she had regretted she hadn’t been able to be honest to him, or to herself. Thus she had acknowledged that she wouldn’t be able to utter it in the future as he would forget her so easily because she’s just an additional in his life. Afterwards, she pouring her feelings within a small device and sent it to him. She wanted to say those things in front of him however she was petrified by the reaction she would get; would he be startled? Would he let go of her hand and awkwardly excuse himself to bathroom and trembling in the corner because she knows, he had suffered from anxiety. It took several minutes for him to reply her erratic messages, and he replied it with calm. If only she could see his face, she was irrefutable his messages don’t speak louder than his visage. She had written she didn’t expect anything from her confession because she was fathom, she was aware her attempt was merely a confession, not necessarily expecting he would feel the same however part of her had expected she would say those things, if only. His reply was a long one but he infamously quoted, “I believe when you give your heart, it will be without hesitation. But you cannot give it to me.”

Where in the world did he get an idea to write such thing? As if he was able to justify that he’s not worthy of her love whilst she had given her heart a long time ago, however he had never noticed before. Silly, she hadn’t expected he would say those things therefore she couldn’t reply anything but; “Please don’t act differently now that you know that I like you.” Had she doubted he would act differently after all things they had been gone through, she hadn’t comprehend him completely because he, wouldn’t act differently because he had gone these things several times and he always reject everyone— because he always feels he’s unworthy of love. He wrote, “I should be thankful because you’ve spoken your feelings and understand your own feelings whilst I am dumb.” He had suggested that he didn’t understand his own feelings but she probably dismissed the idea as she was focused on those words, ‘I’m dumb.’ He wasn’t dumb but oblivious. She rebuked, “You are not!!” And he had sent her a meme for their unbearable conversation. And that was it; they’ve forgotten their boundaries as they were feeling comfortable with their honesties, albeit they could see each other no more.

Ald is a person stuck in a perpetual reality as he tried to endure the forlorn life through words and images. Most of his works were drabbles and not displayed in any websites but he’s trying to break that mundane.

You’re Going to be the World’s Best Icarus

(Picture taken from wikipedia.com)

The crows are wounded, but I have told myself that I wanted to kill them from my head. Everything was fucked up at the places that I thought was home. Maybe I am in love with the world for I have been a Valkyrie, in front of your eyes, in front of my heart. But maybe the world I live in is also what has thrown me away from the north to the sea. Nevertheless, I am happy that I have spread my wings strong as both an Icarus and a Valkyrie. I should throw away everything that screams here in my head  —   I should be overexposed. I don’t think that the world has always been headwind and chaotic. Humans are chaotic. But we need humans. You may think, “do people really have no heart?” “the voices in my head. I can’t make them shut up”. And maybe, everyone at home is sad knowing that you’d never come home. But worry not, maybe your home is somewhere else in a parallel universe. You have been wounded repeatedly, and your Freyja was not there to save you. Your wings were being torn  —  little do they know, that you are the best Icarus in the world. Maybe humans actually have no heart  —  have they ever thought, what if they were you? You had nowhere to run to, so you planted seeds, for you wanted to see small parts of your heart grow. The core seeds are an open wound, and you are buried deep in the sea. But your histories will be a legacy, and your seeds will be engraved in people’s paintings. You have always wanted to see the northern lights, but your heart itself shines northern lights. You are going to be the world’s best Icarus, I am sure. You are going to be the best in Midgard, or even in Westeros. And one day you will wake up glad that the world isn’t as cruel as you thought.

Kråkene er skadet, men jeg har fortalt meg selv at jeg ville å drepe de fra hodet mitt. Alt er føkt opp på stedene som jeg trodde var hjem. Kanskje jeg er forelsket i verden for jeg har vært en Valkyrje, foran øynene dine, foran hjertet mitt. Men kanskje verden jeg bor i er også det som har kastet meg bort fra nord, til havet. Likevel er jeg lykkelig at jeg har spredt vingene mine sterke som begge en Icarus og en Valkyrje. Jeg skal kaste alle som skriker her i hodet mitt  —  jeg skal bli overeksponert. Jeg synes ikke at verden har alltid vært motvind og kaotisk. Mennesker er kaotisk. Men vi trenger mennesker. Du kanskje tror, “Har mennesker faktisk ingen hjerter?” “De lydene i hodet mitt, jeg kan ikke lag de hold kjeft”. Og kanskje, alle hjemme er trist å vite det du ville aldri komme hjem. Men fortvil ikke, kanskje er ditt hjem et annet sted i et parallelt univers. Du har blitt skadet gjentatte ganger, og din Frøya var ikke der til å redde deg. Vingene dine ble revet, lite vet de, at du er den beste Icarus i verden. Kanskje mennesker har faktisk ingen hjerter  —  har de noensinne tenkt, hva hvis de var deg? Du hadde ingen steder å løpe til, så du plantet frø, fordi du ønsket å se små deler av hjertet ditt vokse. Kjernefrøet er et åpent sår, og du er begravd dypt i sjøen. Men historiene dine vil være en arv, og frøene dine vil bli gravert på folks malerier. Du har alltid ønsket å se nordlyset, men hjertet ditt selv skinner nordlys. Du kommer til å være verdens beste Icarus, jeg er sikkert. Du kommer til å være den beste i Midgård, eller til og med i Westeros. Og en dag vil du våkne opp lykkelig for at verden ikke er så grusom som du trodde.

Ralka Skjerseth is a 1998-born German Studies undergraduate based in Jakarta (and sometimes Depok) who works as a freelance columnist and music journalist and has been doing it on-and-off since the age of 17. She has previously gotten her
works featured on several media such as Magdalene.co, Women’s Republic, Pure Grain Audio, Warning Magazine, and L’Éphémère Review. She believes in nothing else but the revolutionary kind of good and the god within herself. Often found crying over Title Fight songs under the influence of booze when not revolting.

What I Need

(Picture was taken from weheartit.com)
‘What I Need’ was previously published June 2018 on:

Waking up to the smell of burnt toast
Always having English Breakfast in the morning
That’s what I want
Not what I need

Wearing Adidas shoes that make me feel so cool
Luxury watch on my right hand
That’s what I want
Not what I need

Being around my cheerful friends
Laughing out loud without worrying anything
That’s what I want
Not what I need

Being a princess so I could get a prince
Living in the castle so I could always sing
That’s what I want
Not what I need

Never feel unhappy
Get myself rich without leaving the couch
Pampering myself anytime I want
Being a person that have no flaws

That’s exactly what I want
But not what I need

All I need just …

Anything that can make me grateful
Anything I could learn
Anything that could make my eyes and heart wide open
Anything to make myself see this world way more different than I was

Yeah, that’s exactly …
what I need.

esfladys, not always feels happy but always feels lucky. An enthusiastic author that writes poems, stories, songs, haikus … simply because she is a logophile.

Warm on a Cold Night

(picture taken from weheartit.com)

tw // suicide

“Can I pick you up?”

I didn’t know what could be happening in his head, but I know him: he could do anything out of his own senses when he’s not himself. And he was not himself that night. I could barely hear him through the phone because he was choking through his tears. I have friends who have struggled with suicidal thoughts, and with his emotions controlling his mind at that moment, I could not help to be extremely worried. Jesus, I hope he doesn’t have a noose in his hand. Or sleeping pills. Or a knife.
A few minutes later, he pulled up in my driveway. He went out and gave me a hug. Then, he looked at me in the eyes. “It’s over.”

We cruised the part of the I-5 south of Seattle while he told me all about the breakup. They only made it for less than a month when his boyfriend decided that it’s time for them to take a break. He was devastated. He had been in love with him for so long, and once the chance came for them to be together, it was over so fast. That was how he ended up calling me.

Driving has always been his consolation. For him, nothing feels more cathartic than to hit the steering wheel and go some place far away. He would spend hours looking at nothing but the quiet highway, passing through random cars and into the dusk. He does not care about destinations as much as he does with journeys; not in a ​Homer’s Odyssey ​ -like way, but because of the fact that he could be alone with his thoughts.
So, there were we, two people cruising on a quiet road, exchanging nothing, not even words, deafened by the silent sound of his emotions. “I don’t know… I just love him so much,” he said, between the silence, pushing back tears. We continued up the I-5 in the absence of interactions.

After a good few minutes, he handed me his AUX cord. “Can you help me play Honne’s ​Warm on a Cold Night?” I searched and pushed play. The radio intro and the deep synths engulfed the prior silence. The song itself evokes an image of driving on a highway at night, but I’ve never experienced the song quite like this; the emotional weight of the whole circumstance made the song feel heavier. I saw his tears falling down his cheek as the song reached its first verse. At that moment, all he felt was the constant, overbearing sadness, and I could not help but to feel it too. The careful melodies and the joy expressed in the lyrics felt different inside this car. Listening to a person talking about the abundance of love while being at the absence of it truly enhanced the human nature of jealousy — in this case, the loss of love — yet, at that moment, jealousy felt less like a sin, but more like a natural response. It dug a deeper trench — one that’s comfortable enough to dwell in for ages.

Newton declared that an object at rest remains in rest and an object in motion remains in motion, unless acted upon by a force. Being in that car at night with that song playing reflected that Newton, too, could be a psychologist. In that liminal state, feelings acted as objects: staying at rest. And there was an absence of force that caused it to remain at rest: at rest in heartbreak, at rest in sadness, at rest in jealousy.

As the song reached its end, he dropped me off to my house. He just needed someone to talk to. I prayed that night for him not to do anything stupid. And now, whenever I listen to the sound of a radio presenter declaring that it’s 3:17 AM — the intro of ​Warm on a Cold Night ​ — I will always be taken back to that liminal state of the absence of feelings, and I will always wonder about the motion of his soul, wherever he is.


Patricia Kusumaningtyasis an undergraduate computer science student (with a deep interest in computational linguistics) currently studying at Columbia University after transferring from a community college in the United States. When she’s not solving problem sets or analyzing The Iliad, you can find her enjoying obscure movies or conquering pop culture trivia. You can contact her through her email address at patricia.adiyoso@gmail.com.


(picture taken from weheartit.com)

i guess, i know it hurts.

seeing you today with a smile plastered on your face after a long time, actually hurts.
it’s absurd, but i know the whole reason. you like someone, don’t you? i always see you with her, after class, you wanting to take her home, and her genuine smile saying “no, i’m fine. really! just go home, be safe!” and you’ll grin like no other while hopping happily back to your car.

i know the songs that you sing and perform on stage are about heartbreak, but are you entitled to feel it too? it’s unfair, i guess. people see you as a heartbroken band member who expresses how he feels through the strum of his guitar and every note he sang. while in reality, he’s as in love as others, as silly as others, as happy as others.

i can’t judge.

my feelings differ. i feel, kind of, empty? hence i’m so deeply in love but i don’t, i can’t do anything to omit it nor to express it. avoiding your songs and listening to old songs by the script was the agenda for today. then i’ll switch to kodaline, then coldplay, then maybe i’ll remember that you’ve covered some of them. then maybe i’ll sleep. i’ll try to forget.
i tried looking up today – at the sky – after looking down for so long trying to hide what i was feeling. weird thing was i didn’t know what i felt at all. was it disappointment? or was it heartbreak? i can’t differentiate.. i’ve never fallen so deep that i had to experience those at the same time.

i saw the stars, amazing that it was shining so brightly. i have always been fond of them. do you believe what people say about them, the stars? they say that when you see one shining so brightly, it means that someone is happy. i recall seeing one today, and i believe that you were the one happy. i was the only person who held the proof that you were happy that night, made me feel some kind of special. even though i won’t feel as special as the one being the reason. nevertheless, i hope the stars keep on shining. i hope you’re at least, smiling. i hope one day, i can be too. for now, only you will be enough.
it will be.

ivy is a being who is lost in the erratic world of fiction, carrying so much indescribable feelings at heart. she finds comfort in acoustics, car rides, loving and dreaming about people she will never encounter.