Fobia dan Saya

Teman menulis saya, Neni Iryani, seringkali menulis puisi akhir-akhir ini. Dari semua puisi yang dibuatnya, saya lebih suka puisi-puisinya yang berbahasa Inggris karena lebih representatif. Tidak hanya membuat puisi, ia juga membuat cerita pendek (flash fiction). Dari semua cerita pendeknya, saya paling suka cerita yang akan saya bagikan di bawah ini.

Sebelum baca karyanya tentang perempuan yang rela mengatasi fobianya untuk mendapatkan orang terkasih, saya mau bercerita sebentar. Ceritanya berhubungan dengan cerita yang akan saya bagi, saya janji.

Kemarin, saya menonton film proses terjadinya Danau Kelimutu pada gunung berapi yang ada di Flores. Di film tersebut, diperlihatkan danau dengan tiga warna: hijau, merah hati, dan hitam. Salah satu danaunya yang berwarna hijau memiliki kedalaman 125 meter. Airnya sangat asam dan tidak boleh terkena kulit. Dindingnya sangat terjal dan mudah longsor.

Mendengar pernjelasan itu, saya membayangkan diri saya menginjak sisi dinding, lalu terperosok, lalu masuk ke dalam air asam yang dalam. Saya merinding, perut saya bergejolak, kepala saya pusing. Membayangkannya saja tidak mampu.

Ah, baca saja cerita di bawah. Kau akan tahu apa maksudnya.

My Phobia and You

Yes we know exactly that I'm phobia of heights. Acrophobia, they call it. So, it's not a secret that I will avoid doing anything which will trigger my phobia. I hate balcony. I avoid looking through the window glass from a room in a second floor, not to mention in a 13th floor and so on. There's no strange that I hate apartment. I prefer spending more hours trip by bus to travelling by airplane. That's why I've never gone that far, unlike you, the most adventurous man and passionate backpacker I've ever known. Maybe, this is one reason of why I fall in love with you. People say we tend to fall in love with ourselves that we see in others, but apart from that we tend also to fall in love with someone who will complete us as persons.

I don't know where you are right now. The last postcard I received from you telling me that you are somewhere in Asia. You said you fall in love to the beautiful scenery around you, the fresh air, the singing of birds you hear every morning, the tropical atmosphere, the local ladies, etc. You even wished that you could live there with me for the rest of your life. You also said that you can't wait to do climbing in the near mountain the next day. You showed me the track you will pass to that mountain; it is in the postcard picture. This bridge--I even couldn't believe people call this frail piece of wood and rope as a bridge--will lead your way to the mountain and find the climbing spot.

The last line you wrote was a joke saying that next time I should pass this frail bridge to get me you. Smile emoticon. Full stop. Your name.

It has been two months since I received your postcard. You've never made me this long waiting and wondering your story of where you are now, what you feel, where your next heading or plan, the local food and girls, what you do to get some money, how you get lost and find new adventure, how was the rock climbing, etc.

This postcard is the most read since one month ago, although I suffer from a headache and I always tremble every time I see the picture. And those symptoms are getting worse when I read your last line words.


I don't know what happen to me this morning. When I stared at the bridge, I felt like I will be able to pass this bridge for you. I felt no more headache, trembling or nausea. Yes, for the first time in my life: I want to pass this bridge, a frail bridge. This thought made my blood rushed faster. I will be able to go by plane. Maybe I need to meet psychiatrist first, but it's not a big problem. I've never this brave; I will try my best to pass it, if this bridge really could get me to you.

But, how could I know that you are there waiting?


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