This is the official blog of Winna Efendi, author of several bestselling Indonesian novels.

Sabtu, 30 Mei 2009


30 May 2009
6:19 p.m.

On the back seat of my car is a wedding dress. I’m picking it out for last minute alteration; the sleeve was slightly too tight for me. But as I drive back to my old apartment for one, last night, I cannot help but think of you.

I’m playing Andrea Bocelli on the tape. Do you remember how much we loved singing out of tune to ‘Time to Say Goodbye’? They were some of the happiest days of my life. Yet here I am, composing a letter for you in my mind, driving in the eerie silence of the night, anxious to get home? I’m not even thinking of tomorrow morning – my wedding day, for God’s sake. I’m intent on sipping dark coffee, looming in the darkness of the home I’ve spent so many years living in.

I miss you.

Don’t you wish that sometimes you could rewind time, and then hit the pause button? I wish I can. I wish that I can rewind my years and go back to the ancient time, when we, in our naivette, still belonged to each other.

You know, it’s funny that I still remember which side of the bed you used to sleep on. On my left, with one arm always hanging on my waist, spreading your palm on the surface of my stomach. How it felt, somewhat ticklish, but I also got that pleasant tingling feeling when you touched me there.

Do you remember how infatuated I was with you? I do. Peter was always saying that maybe, maybe there was no such thing as love. Maybe it was obsession, maybe it was just a crush, or lust, disguised as love. He was right. It was more than just love for me; I was obsessed. I was lustful. I had a big crush. I was in love. With you.

Sometimes I think you never did realize it. How I would stare at you with such longing, as you talked and laughed. Peter noticed. Even I noticed myself. In the height of his anger, Peter once said that I was a pathetic little girl, wanting something I couldn’t have. I had you, once. I just didn’t have you forever.

Pause. Rewind. Pause. To the years of college. To the first day I met you. I was furiously punching the buttons of the vending machine with my thumb. You passed by, gave the thing a strong shake, and swooped down to pick up a can of soda. That smile. I couldn’t remember whether I smiled back.

I miss you.

I miss walking along the banks of the river, hand in hand. I miss late nights, sipping on latte, sneaking to the corners of the dark library, cuddling. I miss sitting on the rooftops, smelling what Peter and Lisa were cooking for dinner, cold beers in hand. I miss talking, about dreams and wants and needs. I never realized once those dreams came true, you would be slipping away from me as well.

I used to know your sorrows, even though you hid your tears from me. I wasn’t that introverted about myself. I cried, I yelled. I think maybe they were the things you couldn’t stand. You just wanted to be sucked into your silence, without anyone, as much as a shadow, waiting in the distance. You could not stand having your fears known. You could not have yourself exposed.

But what if? What if I didn’t walk away from you that day? What if I never chose to go in the first place, looked back, turned around and came back? What if you had not let me go? What if you begged me to stay?

None of us did any of the above. But what if? Tomorrow could be our wedding day. I could be the mother of your children, the one to love you for always.

No. That wouldn’t work. You never wanted that, did you?

The track stops. Our song just ended. It brings me back to reality, the harsh light of the streetlights, the quiet screech of my car, the echo of loneliness. I’m here. Without you.

Tomorrow I’m going to marry Peter. I thought you would not come, but I wanted to send you an invitation.

In the end I changed my mind and never mailed the card. I hope you understand. Somewhere out there, you’re doing what you like best, you’re on an adventure, you’re discovering the new world, you’re breaking hearts, you’re falling in love. I think I’ll do the same, in my own small globe of space.

After all, nothing can be fixed if there were no mistakes, right? No more what-ifs.

I love you. I will always do.


inspired by a blog entry by Angela, and the movie Evening.

Senin, 18 Mei 2009

Rule of Thumb

Writing rule # 1..
write only what you like. what you want. what you love.

Minggu, 03 Mei 2009

on risks

Well, you don't get ahead if you don't take risks
-Heidi Klum-
from Project Runway's season 4, episode 11, on Rami's draped Aphrodite dress.

I think that applies to writing, too. I need to stop playing on the safe side, and take risks to do something else entirely different.