Monthly Archives: September 2013

Valerie’s Letter From V for Vendetta

Bagian favorit saya di filmnya. A very must read love letter. Yang bikin saya penasaran, Scarlet Carsons itu beneran ada nggak sih? Bagus banget bunganya.

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I know there’s no way I can convince you this is not one of their tricks. But I don’t care. I am me.

My name is Valerie. I don’t think i’ll live much longer, and I wanted to tell someone about my life. This is the only autobiography that i’ll ever write, and – God – i’m writing it on toilet paper.

I was born in Nottingham in 1985. I don’t remember much of those early years. But I do remember the rain. My grandmother owned a farm in Tottlebrook, and she used to tell me that God was in the rain.

I passed my eleven plus, and went to a girl’s grammar. It was at school that I met my first girlfriend. Her name was Sarah. It was her wrists – they were beautiful. I thought we would love each other forever. I remember our teacher telling us that it was an adolescent phase that people outgrew.

Sarah did.

I didn’t.

In 2002 I fell in love with a girl named Christina. That year I came out to my parents. I couldn’t have done it without Chris holding my hand.

My father wouldn’t look at me. He told me to go and never come back. My mother said nothing.

I’d only told them the truth. Was that so selfish? Our integrity sells for so little, but it is all we really have.

It is the very last inch of us.

And within that inch, we are free.

I’d always known what i’d wanted to do with my life, and in 2015 I started my first film: The Salt Flats.

It was the most important role of my life. Not because of my career, but because that was how I met Ruth. The first time we kissed, I knew I never wanted to kiss any other lips but hers again.

We moved to a small flat in London together. She grew scarlet carsons for me in our window box. And our place always smelt of roses.

Those were the best years of my life.

But America’s war grew worse and worse, and eventually came to London.

After that there were no roses anymore. Not for anyone.

I remember how the meaning of words began to change. How unfamiliar words like “collateral” and “rendition” became frightening. When things like norsefire and the articles of allegiance became powerful. I remember how different became dangerous.

I still don’t understand it: why they hate us so much.

They took Ruth while she was out buying food. I’ve never cried so hard in my life. It wasn’t long until they came for me.

It seems strange that my life should end in such a terrible place.

But for three years I had roses – and apologised to no-one.

I shall die here. Every inch of me shall perish. Every inch.

But one.

An inch.

It is small and it is fragile, and it is the only thing in the world worth having. We must never lose it or give it away. We must never let them take it from us.

I hope that – whoever you are – you escape this place. I hope that the world turns, and that things get better.

But what I hope most of all is that you understand what I mean when I tell you that even though I do not know you, and even though I may not meet you, laugh with you, cry with you, or kiss you: I love you.

With all my heart.

I love you.

 

-Valerie.

 

link videonya:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=k2W0-z8EnaM

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Hari ini, saya belajar sesuatu: Semua orang bebas menentukan pilihan. Seperti kenapa kita tanpa alasan yang jelas memilih untuk suka pada seseorang dan bukan orang lain. Begitu juga kenapa seseorang itu mungkin malah memilih orang lain, dan bukannya kita. Semua orang berhak memilih :))

Time goes, people change

Beberapa hari yang lalu, saya lewat depan rumah seorang tetangga. Pekarangannya luas, tapi kelihatan nggak terurus. Rumahnya juga tampak nggak terlalu terawat.

Melihat rumah itu, tiba-tiba kenangan di kepala saya menyeruak kembali.

Dulu waktu masih kecil, rumah ini adalah tempat favorit saya dan teman-teman buat main. Pekarangannya yang luas membuat kami bisa melakukan banyak permainan. Kejar-kejaran biasanya. Yang tinggal di rumah saat itu ada 5 orang. Seorang kakek, istrinya, anak laki-laki-nya dan dua anak perempuan. Saya nggak terlalu ingat tentang kakek itu, yang jelas dia meninggal waktu saya masih SD. Dulu, setiap hari dia sering duduk-duduk saja di teras, melihat anak-anak yang main dan berlarian di pekarangannya.

Tapi itu dulu. Lama sekali.

Saya bahkan lupa kapan terakhir kali saya melihat rumah itu. Apalagi semenjak sudah kuliah, dan ngekos di Semarang.

Saat saya lihat lagi rumah itu kemarin, keadaanya udah sangat jauh berbeda. Penghuninya sekarang cuma ada dua orang. Si kakek udah meninggal. Dua anak perempuannya sudah menikah dan tinggal bersama keluarga mereka sendiri-sendiri.

Yang tersisa hanyalah sang ibu dan anak laki-lakinya. Anak laki-lakinya sudah tua, tapi belum menikah. Sedangkan ibunya, saya nggak tahu kenapa, tapi kayaknya menderita sedikit gangguan mental.

Ada perasaan kangen yang tiba-tiba muncul di kepala saya. Saya kangen ketika pekarangan ini ramai. Saya kangen teman-teman saya yang dulu sering main di sini. Yang sekarang ada yang udah kerja, pindah ke rumah mereka sendiri di kota lain, kuliah, atau yang lain.

Saya kangen mereka.

Saya kangen saat kejar-kejaran di halaman ini. Halaman yang menjadi tempat bermain saya sejak kecil. Saya ingat saya pernah dipukuli seorang anak di sini. Saya juga ingat saya juga pernah memukuli anak lain di sini. Saya ingat saat hari hujan saya berlarian di sini.

Waktu terus berjalan, dan orang-orang banyak berubah.

Saya juga nggak berharap semua bisa diulang. Bisa mengingat semua saja, sudah cukup bagi saya.