Hirobenhito

[I’ve just made a shocking revelation that I’m a true yapper. I have a lot of writings that are scattered everywhere. “Transferred” posts mean that it originates from another place. I retrieved this one in my “Jurnal IdupMati” that I saved on google drive with gdocs format of a 2 columns journal, idk why i am the way that i am]

Minggu, 13 Desember 2020 – 14:47

I’m writing this in accompanion of Beethoven’s Archduke played by The Million Dollar Trio, a piece of music I just found from Haruki Murakami’s novel, Kafka on The Shore. It took me three years to finally get the spirit to finish that book. Yes, I’ve already bought that novel a while back, when I was in second grade of junior high if I am not mistaken. Interestingly I think I’ve already read ⅘ of the book, but at that time, I don’t know why, I decided to stop reading the book. Maybe because I wasn’t the world’s toughest fifteen-year-old as the boy named crow always says. I can get why the fifteen-year-old me didn’t finish the book, because the story is so bizarre if you can’t connect the dots  and it would be merely a novel about lust and sex, and of course the past me is too ‘saint’ for that kind of reading, and My brain has yet to be capable of discerning these kind of things.

It’s kinda a blessing that I didn’t finish reading the book when I was fifteen, because if I did, then chances are I will never read the book ever again. So I wouldn’t have had this kind of understanding and appreciation for the story. In the last pages of the book, there are some lines that made my eyes teary and I did shed a tear or two. The line is what Miss Saeki said to Kafka

“If you remember me, then i don’t care if everyone else forgets”

I don’t know why, but this line brought tears to my eyes. Maybe because It sounded so sincere, even though I can’t hear Miss Saeki say it directly in front of me, when you know, then you know it. I don’t know whether Miss Saeki loves Kafka as her son or her lover but whichever it is, she loves him and that’s what matters. How her whole being and presence in this world have to come down into one person’s memory, it is as if nothing mattered until I met you kinda thing. It’s also the case for Kafka, He’s been searching for the mother figure just to ask why she abandoned him and that’s what really matters to him, the reason, whether her mother loves him or not, It is the thing that makes him continue to continue his journey or being stuck on the ‘shore’.

I love how this novel is making me sad, well I’m now currently in a sad state in reality, but how this story can make me forget about my sadness and then makes me sad in a different kind of way, sadness that isn’t real, sadness that I never experienced before. I am longing for something but I don’t know what it is that I long for,  as if my life also stopped at twenty like Miss Saeki, I feel something has been taken from me and all I could do is just wait for death to pick me up.

Aside from all the sadness, I also feel this weird spirit to fight for life. It’s like I know something is worth the fight but again I don’t know what it is to be fought for. But if I were about to take it very personal, I also think this story depicts how a mother’s love is an undeniable and unavoidable type of love, how can Miss Saeki, someone who already stopped living at the age of twenty could still develop this enormous love for his son Kafka. Although she left Kafka when he was four but still, the reason she left is in spite of love.

When she ‘died’ at the age of twenty, she kept on living (as her present self and also her fifteen-year-old self) and that’s what’s wrong, and many other people have to take responsibility for it. How can your dream demand such responsibilities, how your presence and also your absence can hurt someone so deeply.  Whatever it is, I can only draw a conclusion for this novel. It is that you can’t make up what’s lost from you, can’t fill the hole, can’t unsee the hole. The hole is just there, lying around and nothing you can do about it, you can’t run around searching things to mend that hole, cause it is just the illusion of the past, haunting you, and also hurting you. All we can do is choose whether we want to live or to die, and knowing thoroughly that whichever decision you take will always have consequences, for you, for other people. The hole? it will always be there, it will always make you question your decision, but one thing certain is, you can’t, undoubtedly fight your fate and your fate also can’t betray you. [16:25]

[22:53] After reading Kafka on The Shore, I really want to have a japanese house with a library facing a garden, and there’s a patch of light coming from the skylight that shines through and hits the pages of the book I’m reading. With a cup of hot tea beside me and also some Beethovens, Bachs, or Mozarts pieces accompanying me, I’m sure it would be heaven to me. How happiness is simple yet so hard to get fascinates me. How many years would it take before I can pull off something like that? I’d be working my ass off for years before I can relax and sip tea in the afternoon. All of the other responsibilities I have, like taking care of my parents, my sister, paying the electric bills, the taxes, buying food for the next month will always catch up to me. Sometimes I wonder, can I reach that level where I don’t even need to think about those stuff? You know, because of the abundance of money that I have. Should I just marry a rich man? Are there any rich men that want to take an ugly girl like me? Well I surely don’t care about love, never been a believer, I believe in lust and that’s about it. I’m not even sure of my sexual orientation, whether I like men or women, whether I like humans or hate them with burning passion. But I know for sure that love isn’t my priority, I’ve been living 18 years without anything getting close to my heart and I’m kinda fine with it. I find happiness occasionally, through youtube, twitter, books, and small interaction with people. I get sad sometimes when it is near the start of my period, cry some tears and go back to normal. I can live with this loveless and boring life. As long as my needs are met I think I don’t need anything extraordinary and magical called love.

Loving is hard, it surely is.  You can love someone with all of your heart until you’re aching because of all of those love you have for that person, you are even ready to die for them, you want to prevent anything bad happening to them so you put up yourself as a shield. But as far as the reality goes, this person doesn’t know that you love him/her, cause as long as I can remember, you were so focused on your love that you forgot to prepare the best delivery for it. You are stuck in your fantasy of loving this person so hard that every sacrifice you made becomes your love language. The saddest part is love language differs from person to person, but because you spent the past few years acting like a hero in a battlefield, you forgot to ask and therefore you are fighting for nothing. You’re a hero in your own battlefield, but why do I have to care about your battlefield when I can make love to someone who is always there for me? Not that it is an option for me, so we both have been living a lonely life. In our story, loving means not being there, then I don’t want this love, I want you but it is too much to ask for, I’m fully aware of it and that’s what hurts me the most. [23:38]