I came back to my hometown after several years hopping on and off the planes to another country I called home. To be honest, it doesn’t feel right at all.
And when I came back home, I thought to myself, ” Oh. I’m so done running and thinking. It’s time to settle down here and start a life.” I enrolled myself into an engineering school with the hopes of finally having a life in order of perfection.
My absolute wish is to
a) finish school
b) get a decent job. decent paycheck
c) buy myself a house
start a family.
e) other stuff that I haven’t think bout.
But despite having all the wishes and the so-called-vision of my life. I still think I’m lacking some spices in my life. And to be truth, I don’t even know what.
I’m tired of playing the perfect daughter of my parents. Having to smile all along to all the silly jokes they made. But in the end, with the darkness in my bedroom I realized I have nothing.
Sometimes, I feel I’m blessed with a good family. Supportive parents. Good friends. Nice place to study. Sisters that I can laugh and crack stupid jokes together. And so many things in between.
But most of the time. I feel lonely. I can’t seem to whisk off the loneliness.
True. I do have a good parents. Most of the people around me said that I’m lucky to have parents that is supportive enough to have my back in all situations but none really know that despite all the options that I have and given by parent, it is actually a thing to force me to do something they want to do all along. And to be truth. I don’t even have a choice. It seems like everything is perfect. Perfect school. Perfect grades. Perfect life. But truth is, scratch all the perfect and replace it with bullshit.
I have two elder sisters and we seem happy. We can talk,gossip, crack jokes and do other silly stuffs together. But little did people know how intimidating to have your elder sisters better than you. People don’t possibly know all the down-grading session I’ve had. It’s frustrating as everyone keeps on pointing out the flaws and mistakes of yours. Keeps on reminding you how you’ve wasted the time of your life and the money of your family. Yeap. It keeps going on forever. My sisters are perfect. Perfect grades. Perfect visual. Nothing is lacking.
As for the school. Enrolled half-heartedly. And because of that. Studying becomes a burden. Revising seems like killing. Tests and quizzes are like nightmares. And assignment? Don’t ask. It’s a perfect school. Only that I don’t know what I’m doing here. Passing every examinations, tests, quizzes and everything in between are already a blessing.
I’m not good in words. I’m definitely not good on being a storyteller. I want to write. Long and strong. But I can’t seem to put my story in words. This is the best I can do.
One day, I hope my mom and dad realized that I want to be someone else. I want to be me. I don’t want to be somebody that they shaped and carved. I don’t want to be somebody else. There are times when I did my rebel and I ended up crying. Because in the end. Mom and dad expect me to become someone mature enough to keep straight and look forward.
There are times. Like lots of time that I don’t want to do something and anything. But they don’t understands that. They said I’m being silly and selfish. I can’t talk to my parents bout my problems because in the end I’m the one to be blame. I said its natural to have a bit of a rebel session in my teenage life. But they said no. Growing up in a full boarding school,fly abroad right after school with my perfect result doesn’t make me a straight up person without flaws. I have my time too. I have times that I can’t seems to handle my problems.
I love to travel. I love to travel because I find ME in traveling. I find Him along the steps when I traveled. But my family doesn’t seems to know that. The thought I traveled for fun. To see places. To see people. To make wild new experiences. But they don’t know how I miss traveling because I miss ME and HIM. Mom said I’ve spent too much money on traveling, going places, have fun that I forgot how to live a life. Dear Ma, that is how I live my life. By seeing things, people, experiences something new. I’m being me. I’m living my life when I travel.
Sometimes. I have a wish. To disappear to somewhere secluded. And have my account hacked and read by everyone. Every single one of it. My twitter, Facebook, Penzu, Instagram, my gmails everything. But most of all. I want them to read my wordpress and my diary. Yes. That diary of mine. So that they know what I want. They know what I feel. And I have a glimpse of hope that they’ll finally able to understand the complicated me. Not much. But a bit is good enough.
If any of my family members read this. Do know. Things have been hard on me ever since I’m back here in this country. I’ve no friends to talk to. I’ve no place to go when I’m down. I’ve no interest to live on. I’ve been ask to cut all ties with all my friends back then and start to live a life. Because someone thought that my friend back then is good for nothing.
Back then. When I’m down. I always have a friend that I can always ask a hug from her. A real tight and sincere hug with the strokes in the hairs. I’ve a person that I can borrow her shoulder to lean on and cry. I’ve a lap to sit down and talk for hours and finally feel relieved.
Back then. I always have the ‘bahr’ to calm me down when I’m feeling super down and demotivated. I always be at the ‘bahr’ even if its cold and windy in the winter just to blankly stare into the ocean. I always have the Bibliotheca to cheer me up and lending me a place to have wild imaginations bout life and stuffs. I always have a
restaurant (more like a stall.) to sit and eat alone even when I’m not hungry. And most of all. I always have a place I’m comfortable enough to live in.
Back then, living everyday life is interesting. Always something new to be discovered. Always something new to learn. Some new place to get a much more better pizza that ‘Camp Ceaser’s Pizza’. Some new place to go sight-seeing. Some new recipes to try. And most of all. Some new experiences to be added inside the book of life.
No one to hug when I feel like crying. No shoulder to lean on when I’m feeling down. No lap to put myself when I needed time to rest my head. Easy words. No friends.
No place to go to calm myself. No place to direct when I needed place to stare blankly. No bahr no anything.
And here. No new experiences nor new places to be discovered. Or new routine to construct. Just the same old routine everyday every week. Like a robot I am.