Baggage.

One of the hardest feeling during farewell is realizing that once a person gone, sometimes it's not only their presence which goes away, but the habit we brought up with them, and them only, as well. And isn't it heartbreangly heartbreaking?

***

I am a memory keeper. I freeze moments, I keep feelings, I remember dates and I do them all unintentionally, unconciously, It just happens and I am grateful for it, like I need no particular notes to write important dates down cause it's locked already in my brain. But sometimes, it does kill me.

The first days after parting ways, I am usually a total wreck and crying too much over the simplest things. Funny how much I realize, the strong Bethari I have always wanted everyone to see me as, is now crying over tiny bity stuffs, for example: a boy. But I was. What kept me, obviously, was my photographic memory. The world itself became an utter melancholy at sudden. Everywhere I go, they left the traces. Everything I do, the last time was with them. Things got worse because I got used to whatsoever things we did together and not anymore but life had to go on, regardless. I got healed but never forget. Yet somehow, it's wonderful tho to have something left behind.

I used to watch How I Met Your Mother, which turned out myself liking it, because someone introduced it to me and it became part of our topics to talk about. Then I stopped at Season 6 since we broke up and I thought why on earth I kept watching it nobody would pop out to my face talking about it anyway. Then I used to spare 3-4 hours every night since we both love stars, with jackets on cause we would probably just go strolling around the city and I was still the girl who lost the battle against the cold midnight weather. And not anymore because he left.
When I was in junior high I used to steal my sister's novels, read them in a rush, and put them back on the shelf secretly. Then my sis went to college out of town and I stopped doing that. I also have a thing with bear dolls, have one in my house call it 'Cemong'. It's my younger sis' actually but I love it just as much. We played almost every night and by playing I mean I talked to Cemong like it's alive and it could reply me (even it was actually me making silly voices). Then I went to Bandung and no more talking to Cemong (or basically any dolls) again ever since.


I mean, isn't it sad when you kinda 'generate' a signature thing with whatever stuff you're doing with your life then one day you just kinda....stop and pack everything up just because it is no longer like it used to be?