On unfriending an ex

(Cross-posted on Tumblr.)

Yesterday, I wrote about being in the painful, agonizing, heartbreaking position of the “breakee”, e.g. someone who’s on the receiving end of a breakup, and how I’ve been coping with the loss of a romantic relationship. That person and I had been “friends” on virtually all popular social media out there and we used to use a few of them on a regular basis to maintain communication.

Maybe it was naiveté, or maybe immaturity, that forced me to make a promise to that person of not unfriending (or whatever the equivalent of that is) that person on social media. I said to that person that we would remain friends, both in real life and social media, after the breakup. I said, innocently, of how it would have been “foolish of me to unfriend someone worth keeping as you are. I want us to stay friends on Facebook and everywhere else.” Yes, it was ugly. Yes, I wish I had not said those words. And so, with the intention of keeping the promise, we remained “friends” on social media after the breakup and it stayed that way for months.

But now, after weighing the options, I’ve made a decision of not keeping the status of “friends”, e.g. “unfriending” or whatever its equivalent is, that person on Facebook and on other social media, with the full knowledge that I’m breaking a promise.

This decision is based on two reasons.

  1. It’s the sane thing to do. Like most breakups, and especially for the “breakee”, the urge to check on how the ex is doing is unbearable. I’ve failed so many times in that, and each time I did check on the ex, the feeling of longing kept coming back. And when that feeling came back, it would take days, or even weeks, to go away again… only to find the urge reappearing. And by then the cycle of hurt started all over again. The same applies to suddenly seeing the status update of the ex on the timeline. I just can’t see how that doesn’t drive someone crazy. So unfriending the ex on social media is the only sane thing to do. It won’t completely stop the ex from suddenly appearing, of course (because social media), but at least by unfriending that person, the probability of such an event happening is greatly reduced. Not to mention the pain of seeing a status update that says that person is seeing someone new. Oh man, now that’s a scary thought.
  2. Neither of us attempted to maintain contact anyway. At this point, there’s no other reason to contact each other than for the sake of maintaining the relationship itself. But none of us made such contact, meaning that probably the relationship is no longer worth keeping.

Yes, it’s possible that by doing this I may be seen as naive and/or immature. Yes, the person in question may be jeering at me if that person thinks that it’s naive and/or immature. And that’s okay; that person, or anyone else for that matter, can react however they want. This decision is personal, solely for my own sake. Because I believe that in order for me to completely move on from the breakup, it’s a step that I have to make.

However, I won’t deny the possibility of re-adding that person in the future. If one day I were to meet again with that person and start a new relationship—which will most likely not be of a romantic sort—then, if necessary, I’d be more than happy to reestablish social media friendship.


Breakup breakdown

If you take this blog out of the context, it might seem like that I left for Mecca and never made it back home. I could have been missing in the Indian Ocean or kidnapped by terrorists. Thankfully nonathat happened. Home I was, safe and sound. (Along with more stuff that I had when I left.) The flight took about twelve hours from here to there and vice versa, and, coming from someone who takes airplanes as his means of transport only every once in a blue moon, flying was nice. It was soothing—almost meditative—to see the fluffy white clouds from fifteen-thousand feet (or something) above the open seas. It was interesting that from such a height the skies weren’t, well, “sky blue” in color; they were in fact blue of a darker shade, probably “midnight blue”. Seriously, from up there, the midnight blue skies look terrifying. A few more thousand feet up and the skies would’ve been pitch black, like in the movie Gravity, and there would no longer be “skies”. There would only be void. What could be more frightening than being surrounded by complete emptiness?

It might not be as frightening as being enclosed in void, but breakups are scary. Breakups? What?! Well, a few months after my home touchdown, my girlfriend kind of dumped me. Yeah, the same girl toward whom I openly express my deep admiration. Breaking up was something I always feared and even though I knew it would eventually happen, I kept brushing it off, pretending like it never ever would. It was supposed to be a mutual breakup. “Supposed to be” because when she told me, “It’s not working out for me,” she kind of gave me time to sort of approve of it so it did seem like it was mutual, although I never actually wanted it. It was funny, really. I was just delaying the inevitable. Like someone being given a death sentence and the executioner is like, “Yeah, I’ll give you a couple of days to think about it. You can say no, of course. But I’m still going to chop your head off anyway. But I’ll give you a couple of days…” And indeed eventually, just short of its second year, the relationship was over.

But it wasn’t over just like that. She and I were still hanging out for the following months. She and I had lunches together, went to the movies in the afternoons. Just the two of us. Not only that, the backseat of my scooter still “belonged” to her as I kept picking her up at her place to give her a ride. I kept accompanying her to places she wanted to go. It would’ve looked like as if were dating. But, no, we weren’t. Not anymore.

From her perspective, hanging out with me was like hanging out with a close friend. From my perspective, hanging out with her was hopelessly hoping that her heart would rekindle that old flame that used to burn with seemingly endless passion.

Alas, there was no flame. There was not even a hint of a spark. Soon after, the post-breakup hang outs stopped and neither she nor I made attempt to contact each other. Then, like most people who initiated a breakup, she moved on. She even had gotten herself a new crush, someone she routinely meets in her Sunday services. How the hell did I know about that, you ask? Well, I kind of stalked her Facebook the other day (definitely not something I was proud of doing) and found out that she had put up a blog in which she wrote poems of admiration to that guy. You know, the usual stuff: a girl has a crush on a boy but she doesn’t know whether or not the boy shares the feeling. (Funnily enough she used to do the same to me. I even still remember the address. I guess it’s just something that she does when she has a feeling towards someone.) She has a job now as well, out of town. I’m probably completely out of her mind by now.

What about me? Well, to be completely honest I haven’t gotten over her, not yet. The pain isn’t as bad as it used to be, but it’s still there, healing. I’m still secretly hoping (not so secret at this point) that out of the blue she would text me and then I would reply and then a lovey-dovey conversation that lasts until the night that she and I used to do when we were together would happen again. It’s an immature thought, really. But hey, here’s a guy who’s still picking up the remains of his broken heart and glueing them back together.

I should probably get a job.


In less than twelve hours from now I will be leaving Bandung for Mecca (via Jeddah, of course) with my mother and brother as well as a couple of relatives to perform the umrah.

I will, God willing, be back at the 19th.

To my good Geng Poker friends, I will not be able to participate in any gatherings and events you may have for next week. Please pray for the safety of me and my company. To even things out I will also pray for the safety (and prosperity) of you…

…if I remember.

Just kidding.

Peace out.

A street lesson learned

I learned a lesson the hard way today.

I crashed my motorcycle. (For the second time in history, but that’s another story.) Straight onto the iron bar of the rear bumper of a stopping angkot in the rush of the afternoon rain. Not only that, thanks to my sudden fall from my bike a lady behind me, also on a motorcycle, unable to anticipate the situation, ran onto my poor, wet, fallen bike and fell as well. Some nice people helped us with our bikes as the lady mumbled at me for not concentrating on my riding. The angkot innocently moved forward, not caring and disappearing from view. The lady was fine though. We shook hands afterwards, learning our lessons for the day.

Thinking back, it was a potentially dangerous situation for me. I did scratch my leg and kind of did ruin the front side of my motorcycle (the right blinker’s kind of sticking out), but bad as it was, anything worse could have happened at that moment. When I fell, I fell to my left, towards the empty sidewalk, not to the right, towards the moving traffic. For all I know a sixteen-wheeler carrying tons of freshly cut logs could have ran over my lying, dizzied head at sixty kilometers per hour, crushing it flat on the asphalt.

(Funny story: as I stopped a few meters ahead under the awnings of a row of stores to wait for the rain to subside, I googled for “perbaikan motor nabrak” on my phone to kill time. Instead of getting results on motorcycle repairs, surprise, surprise, the first page of the search was mostly news about a motorcyclist being ran over by a truck.)

Lesson learned: the potential danger of the traffic is no joke. Being arrogant on the streets by overtaking every single vehicle ahead of you is far from wise, regardless of the situation. It’s OK to move slowly and stick to the slow lane, letting impatient, horn-honking assholes overtake you as they throw expletives at you. There are more important things in life other than caring for such kind of people (like my final thesis that is due tomorrow. Argh!), so long as you, your vehicle, and whoever goes with you get to wherever you’re going intact.

College break(down)

My trusty MacBook had it’s battery swollen like a piece of bruised flesh and so I sent it for repair and they said that it would take 7-10 days for it to finish since they had to order the battery from somewhere. It was a week ago and I still haven’t received any news from them. I hope they didn’t break it or something.

(I’m typing this secretly from my brother’s *Windows* laptop.)

I’m on a (winter?) college break now which lasts for a month or so until early February. I say “break”, not “holiday”, or liburan, as people say because it isn’t really one. When you’re having a holiday, everybody is, too. But college kids as we are, we get this special privilege of staying at home for five weeks-ish with literally nothing productive to do, until our backs become stiff and our legs limp and our brain rotten due to this prolonged idleness.

Speaking of breaks, having one of those as a college student feels completely different than having one as a high schooler. It’s definitely, infinitely more fun having a break, and also holiday, as a kid. A school kid can totally call a holiday a holiday because he can enjoy himself with whatever he wants to do. He could spend all day playing video games at home, or doing whatever things he wants to do without having to worry about anything else…

Like life. That four-letter word that I only began to think about once I carry the number 2 as a prefix in my age. Holidays can’t be spent as freely as it could in my teenage years, both in terms of mentally and physically. I’m beginning to think about the, ugh, future, like marriage, career, money, etc. (thanks, society!) and everything else. It’s become a huge pressure on my shoulders, as if I haven’t got enough pressure already from finishing college. But I probably should be thankful for this model of the society because parents still provide a roof to cover my head and money for my college tuition fee. But then, again, probably that needs to change in the future in order to renew this lazy, spoiled excuse of a society.

I’m wondering if I could get the same mental and psychological freedom again as I had as a cutesy teenager. Probably not.


i’ve been hospitalized for dengue fever for a couple of days this week. my time at the hospital was probably the most relaxing, worry-free time i’ve ever had: just laying down on the bed, watching tv or reading books, the nurses coming every so often to feed me, people coming to visit. all i needed to think about was recovering, and that was all.

but ever since i got out of it i feel like i’m having a huge lump in my throat. my heart feels so heavy. i’m trying to write it down, what’s wrong with me. but the thing is, it’s making me depressed. and having friends around just doesn’t seem to cut it.

well firstly, there’s family problem. mom and dad. they make me so depressed. their disagreement over everything. their stubbornness over those disagreements. neither of them even listens anymore. to anybody. to each other, to me, to my brother. each insists on solving every problem their way, leading to fights and arguments, and then contempt. communication has no value. even when communication is open it just seems so. every so often my nieces try so hard to make everything seems alright even though it isn’t. nothing is. there is no love in this house. making money is all everybody cares about. that is, making money by running businesses. i mean, really, trying too hard to run a business and expect money to roll in immediately. it’s so depressing.

and speaking of which… my future. my mom and dad don’t care much about it. as long as i get a job, whatever that may be, they’ll be fine. i think they picture me working in a bank, “following their path”. i seriously think that they don’t have anything in their minds for me except for working behind a desk in a bank. this nation works for banks anyway, right? what else is there for me except for a bank. it’s so depressing. i thought the world is wide enough to accomodate other jobs other than banks. i always assure myself that i can speak english well. well, what’s that worth anyway. everybody can speak english well. plus other employable degree. when i graduate i’ll be having a degree that shows i can read well. yeah, that’s so employable.

and then there’s college. i’ve got assignments that i completely ignore when i was being hospitalized. i made it as if i’ve done everything. there’s this subject called research methods in linguistics that’s supposed to lead to my final thesis next semester. but i haven’t done anything with it. i’m supposed to read a lot of theories to support my argument. i’ve done the basic stuff, my argument and everything, but they’re just that. baseless as a debris in the outer space.

my girlfriend who’s so busy with her assignments that she hasn’t time for us to talk. but then with all these problems that i have i’ll be just a big burden for her.

and there’s also the rest of my family. i just want them to disappear, really. sometimes they just keep poking around in another’s life and won’t go away.

even writing all of this doesn’t make me feel better. not even a bit. i don’t know what can. i’m just rambling my worries away. just want to curl up on my bed and sleep and be happy all of a sudden with all my problems solved.



I’m feeling utterly helpless in the past few weeks. I feel empty. I find myself daydreaming on my ride home from campus.

I don’t know what causes it. I do know what triggers it, though. It is when somebody ignores me and do not give me what I expect them to. That really disappoints me and I really want to let my rage out to them. Why can’t you care more about me? I’ve been friendly towards you. I’ve done things for you. Why the fuck do you turn a blind eye to me? Do you hate me? Am I being too kind that I annoy you? I know you will talk about me behind my back, laughing about my kindness. Kindness means stupidity to you, right? You can easily use me because I am too kind. Just ask me to do something for you and I’ll do it for you. That’s right. I will. If not I would just be on my fit of rage and you will hate me forever because of it. By then you’d have your reason to avoid me for the rest of your life and that would make you happy. That’s right, isn’t it? Your life would be happier without me in your way. I’m just a big talker who acts kind to you, pretending to do shit for you with my whole heart, but behind it I just wanted to get on your good side. Guess what, you’re absolutely right. You get 100 points! Congratulations. I just want you to like me. That’s why I did all of that to you. I don’t want you to see me as a useless, socially crippled human being. But I did that to you because I can’t do shit to get myself noticed by you. By you and everyone else. I just want everyone to notice how kind I am, how nice I am, how I can do shit that nobody wouldn’t do just because I want all of you to fucking pat me on my head. To congratulate me. Tell me that I’m such a helpful individual. Oh yeah that would make me happy for sure. For sure. I can live my life happily ever after only if you notice what I’ve done. Otherwise I’d just go to my fit of rage so you guys can notice me.

What if I tell you that I’ve been living my whole life pretending to be someone that you’d like? Whoever this son of a bitch you know, this smile that he puts on his face, this polite gestures that he makes, they are all fake. This guy makes them all just to get you to like him which if you do he’d be very happy. Those writings he posted, those things he reblogs, just to get everybody to notice him. Yes, I do all of them just so you’d say, “Oh this guy has great taste in music!” “Oh, look this guy is so cool. Just look at these quote he reblogs!” And you know what I’m very, utterly happy if you say that because you noticed me at last. That’s all I care for all I know.

You may be thinking I’d got to be sick in the head. Guess what, you’re right again! 200 points! Congratulations for your judgment. I may be mad, or at least I may be someone on the verge of being mad. Oh, maybe I’ll be schizophrenic. Maybe in a year or two you’d find me on the streets, naked, with barely any piece of clothing on my filthy, mud covered body. You’d see my bare genitals hanging freely on my exposed crotch. Oh maybe that’d be better because I can then do my own fucking thing and you can laugh at me and neither of us have bad feelings. Maybe I’d fling that fucking penis at you when you saw me, I won’t even be ashamed of that because I wouldn’t even fucking care. I’m fucking mad. Crazy ass, schizophrenic hobo. Because that’s how everyone is supposed to treat mad people, people who are sick in the fucking head: by laughing your asses off at them. Yeah, you know what, maybe I deserve that. Go ahead laugh at me. Go ahead laugh at me behind my back.

I really don’t want to care anymore.

Ramblings on FIFA 13

Before I decide to buy myself a video game, there are at least two things that I need to consider, like

1. how fun is the game?
2. how long will the fun last?

I’d rather not purchase a hyped video games when its gameplay only lasts like a few hours and is of very low replay value, no matter how fun it is when I play it for the first time. That game has to have a sufficient and consistent gameplay fun-factor.

One of that kind game is FIFA 13. Since I bought it last year never for a day I feel like I’ve had enough of it. I just can’t get tired of FIFA 13, there are so many modes to play and each of them has their own replay value. The Ultimate Team mode, for example, offers both the regular football gameplay and a sort-of a “card-trading” game. It’s a really fun building my own team by buying and selling players in the form of cards with other players, getting virtual money in the process. Best part is when I play against other Ultimate Team players online. It actually feels great when my team beats a seemingly better team with skills.

Then there’s the Career more. There are two modes to choose from, to play as a Player or Manager. Both has their own unique gameplay value. As a Player, I can create my own player and customize his appearance and play as him in the team of my choosing (I’m playing as a fictional German striker Juno Heisemeyer, currently contracted to PSG). As a Manager, I can manage my favorite team (I’m managing Spurs and the Poland national football team). Emotions are involved, too. I am always eager to score more goals. I look forward to purchase a great football star or grow my own future talent. Buying and selling players is such a joy. (I recently bought Neymar in the summer transfer window for 30m Euros and sold it for twice the price in winter.)

There is also a Kick-Off mode for casual, pick-up game session with a partner. It’s always fun to play together with someone. I play it a lot with my brother and we have a lot of laughs while we’re playing.

The best thing is all of those game modes will get me experience points that will increase my FIFA playing level in EA Sports Football Club (EAS FC). It will also enables unlockable contents, and the higher my EAS FC level is, the more contents that I can unlock to enhance my gameplay.

With all those modes that I can play them over and over again, I just can never get enough with FIFA 13. I can play for hours and hours of it without getting bored (the only thing that stops me is exhaustion). It seems like its fun potential is endless… at least until the next line-up in FIFA series comes up.

So yeah, this isn’t a review post or anything. My point is that for me, FIFA 13 is a game that is really, really worth buying and playing. It’s a great investment for my entertainment needs.

I’m really looking forward to FIFA 14!

On reviewing a relationship

After a tiresome day of mid-terms yesterday, I decided to visit my girlfriend’s dorm to kick back and rest my thoughts.

By the time I got there she was cleaning her room and packing up to go home. I sat on the side of her bed, leaning my back against the bed frame as she did her thing.

Then, when she was finished, she sat down next to me. Then we had a chat and we reviewed our relationship. “Review” because I don’t know what the English word for it is, if there is any.

We occasionally do this, reviewing our relationship. We mainly share things we don’t and do like from each other, as well as what aspects of our relationship need repair. We also take turns to tell each other pretty much everything we need to say about the other. We hide nothing. Afterwards, we apologize to each other for things that we had done wrong and, well, we forgive each other, not because we have to but because we want to. It was a pleasant time together, my girlfriend and I.

I think relationship reviews like this, everybody who’s in a relationship—or perhaps married—should do it, too. As clichéd as it may sound, maintaining good communication is indeed key to a healthy relationship. And guess what, ours has been going on for nine months now (I know, it’s still a very short time) but rarely have we ever quarrel because of minor issues such as speculative suspicion against each other, let alone major ones.

Because what do we have to hide from each other?

Mom came into my room…

Mom came into my room (as always, without knocking first) while my brother and I were playing FIFA. Earlier in the day I installed a carpet for my room by myself. That included my getting sweaty due to carrying out of my room a desk, a chair, a nightstand, and a bed in the process and then putting it back where it belonged.

But my mom didn’t notice that. Instead of appreciating the work I did she complained about the layer bedding that lied untidily on my bed (even though I had planned on getting rid of it).

And then she took a photo-box photograph of my girlfriend and I and sat on my bed. I think I look nice in the photograph and my girlfriend looked really pretty in her purple outfit. And we looked cute together.

But my mom ignored that. The only comment she made was the crease on my shirt and that I should have had it tidied up.

It’s not that I’m being childish and always in the constant look for praise but don’t I at least deserve more encouraging comments than that for my life from my mother?