It was a cold
early morning, in a historic small room there were women who were struggling to
give a birth for their beloved tiny baby to see the wide world, and my mother
was one of them. She could not lean her
body to anything. The contractions took her breath away. Until she could see
someone came closer, and it was the doctor who would help her to pass that hard
situation. The doctor told her to set her breathe, “You need to relax, breathe
like you are jogging.” He said, and the struggle began.
My
mother was struggling to face between a life and death to give her first lovely
daughter a birth. I might not be able to see her in pain, but still could feel
it. She screamed, sounds so painful, and it has shown me how painful it was. I
was crying for the first time after I hid in one tummy of million woman in the
universe, and it was my mother’s tummy. Then someone took me away from my
mother, and it was the doctor. He dressed me, and handed me back to my mother’s
arms. Then she looked at me, looked at her first daughter deeply. Her tears
just fell down in a second from those tired eyes, and smiled at the same time. She
was happy, I knew.
No
needed a long time someone came into the room, it was a man, and it was my
father. He hugged me as well as my mother. I thought it was the happiest and
touching moment in the year of 1999, Wednesday 7th April.
Time
passed year by year. It forever lasting in my mind. Every single part of my
childhood even though it was a piece of puzzle. I remembered how I passed
through day by day for years without a dad or even a mom, I did. At the age of
2, my parents decided to entrust me to my father’s parents which meant they
were my grandparents. Mostly, my childhood was spent with them. They took care
of me well, but sometimes there was something that has reminded me of my
parents.
I
was too young to be left by them. So when I was 2 to 6 years old, I lived in
Buleleng, but every once in a while I stayed in Denpasar with my parents. It
might be a month to 2 months with grandparents, and a week with my parents, but
not when I reached elementary school. I could only visit my parents once in 6
months as my semester break.
One
day, my parents came home and stayed for few days. I was really happy. I ran
into them and screamed “Daddy!!! Mommy!!!” I said. My father hugged me tight
and kissed every single part of my tiny face. Then raised me up to the air and
I just pretending like I was a superman who flying to save the world.
On
the night with the setting sun my mother and I went to bed, she sang me a
lullaby as usual when she was home. When I almost closed my eyes something just
crossed my thought, “Mom, does my name have a meaning?” I asked. Then she
started to tell me what Luh Putu Anggie Arsani means, and it was ‘a first soulful
daughter’. I love my name and it’s mean. I thought that my last name a little
bit similar with my father’s last name. And yes it is. As my father named Ketut
Sandiarsa and my mother named Ni Luh Gede Budiani, they combined their last
name for their first lovely daughter. So ‘Arsani’ is belong to me and my
parents.
We
spent those several gold days together, shared some stories. Finally the day
came, my parents had to go. This happened for many times. Everyone who come
will definitely leave, isn’t it? Even though I had experienced it repeatedly, that
was still one of a moment that I hated the most.
It
was hurt because I did not know the cause why we had to live in the other place.
Then I ran to hold them and start screaming “Can’t I follow everywhere you go?”
I said. Even though I said those all million words exist I could not made them
stay with it. It ended up with they left me, again.
I
was just wondering whether I might be was too young to understand or did not
want to understand why. All thing that I wanted was they stayed. Every time
they left, I cried for the whole day, for years. I was finally getting used to
face it without a tear, guessed my tears had dried up. But still, my throat
became dry from sorrow because of watching them leave. Just like a little doll
in the corner of the dark room, I was only staring through the window with
blurry eyes and wished them could stay a little bit longer. Because I had been
dreaming of a whole family who lived under the same roof together.
I
used to screaming inside of my heart cover with a smile and laugh in my face,
so no one could hear it. One thing that I hated the most was I really did not
like people saw me as a weak and sad person in their eyes. Then my scream
became a lullaby, sing me to sleep and forgot about all the pathetic misery for
a while. Then waking up at dawn without a sound and faced the world even though
the loneliness getting stronger day by day.
Instead
of my parents I lived with my grandparents in a beautiful small village in
Buleleng. It was a quiet and pleasant place. The villagers were friendly. They greeted
each other and had a close kinship. Just like the other villagers, my neighbor
and I were close enough. We treated each other like a family, visiting each
other’s house with no purpose. We just came then did a small talk while helping
each other to get things done.
I
spent my 24/7 there in a pleasant friendly village for almost 12 years in a medium
old white house with them. It was not a big house but the yard was spacious
enough. You could even playing football there. There were 4 bedrooms and 2
bathrooms outside. One of those 4 small rooms was mine. A small square room
where I spent my time the most.
When
I was just a child, I was being a Justin Bieber’s fan because of his type of
voice, and I wouldn’t lie he was handsome and cute as well. I watched his music
video then singing like a superstar in my lovely room almost every day after
school, with some Justin Bieber’s posters on the wall. I went crazy for him.
Could you imagine how my bedroom like? It was small pleasant room colored in
white wall. I did not have much thing to fill the room as everyone would not
feel comfortable in a full crowded room. My parents filled it with a small bed
in the corner, a big wardrobe as we keep our clothes there together, and a
small desk right beside my bed.
I
remember when I was elementary school, as my grandparents did not know how to
braid my hair and neither did I. So I decided to go to my neighbor and asked
them to help me to braid my long hair. Then it became daily until I reached
junior high school.
As my
neighbor has a daughter she had to braid her daughter’s hairs too. But I always
been the first one was braided. Sometimes her daughter Puspa complained. “Mom,
who is your actual daughter? Why I always be the second one?” she said. I knew
she was jealous and I just gave her a smirk. It was so funny to tease her. She
was not my best friend or even just a neighbor. She more like a little sister
as she was one year younger than me. I felt satisfied to have some special
people around me, treat me like their own family with no reason needed.
Meanwhile
far across the hills my parents were struggling to work as hard as they could
and survived on this bitter life. Let’s say I was selfish. They wouldn’t leave
me for nothing. They had the reason and they were forced to entrust me to my
grandparents.
I
was just did not want to understand the situation by blaming them and keep
asking why, even though I already knew the reason. I just thought about me,
myself, and I. Put myself as the only one victim of this hard situation. They
haven’t ever crossed my thought while my name all over their minds. I have
tried not to be selfish because I believed I was in control to rid of the
monster inside my head.
My
father was a quiet person among his 3 brothers and his younger sister. He is
third child of 5 siblings. In 1977 he was born in the widest part of Bali,
Buleleng. He has a proportional body as he was an athlete in his time. If
someone told me to describe how my father looked like, I would say that he looked
like Rio Dewanto but in imitation version. So charismatic, isn’t? I did not
even know much about his character. All that I knew, he could be the most
patient person in the universe but no one could handle when he lost control. I
guess I inherited my father’s personality.
On
the other hand, my mother was born in one of thousand historical places in
Bali. It was near king of Mengwi’s palace called Taman Ayun by now. If there
was the most talk active person who was born in 1977 it must be my mother.
Sometimes, I could not handle it and just pretended like I was listening. Even though
she was a talk active person don’t even try to make her mad. Because if she was
mad, then you will die. Do you prefer to face an angry people who are grumbling
at speed 120kms per hour or who are keep silent without any word? I choose the
first one because my mother was the second type one. She would not say any
single word to me if I made her mad. It was so scary. So, don’t even try for
once, I warn you. In the other side, she could be the wisest woman in the
world.
Just
like a history of historical places, there were millions of story behind the
history. There were a lot of story that you have been passed but you could not
remember each details of them. There were only a few that you could remember,
you might remember one of the detail or even just remember them as some pieces
of puzzle.
Then
so do I, there were a lot of story that I have been passed through with my
parents. There were millions memories in my memory. Sadness, happiness, madness,
and thousand feelings more. I have been feeling those kind of emotion with
them. We passed through the life just like we passed the corridor. We were
taking step by step, holding each other and faced every single thing that came
from those doors along the corridor. Have you ever hurt by your own past when those
stories just crossed your thought by sudden? Then so did I when the memory crossed my thought, I could feel how
it was hurt me a lot. There were too much stories, it could be a sweet yet a
bitter story.
Among
those millions stories passed, there was a thing I knew for sure. My parents
and I might be separated for a long time. But we keep struggling to live
together like the others from different place. They taught me how to stand on
my own feet. There were always a hidden meaning in every hard situation we
fight for.
Every
parent had their own way to educate their children. I saw there was a lot of
people who treated their children like a king or queen, and got whatever they
wanted, but not my parents. It doesn’t mean that they did not love their
children. Sometimes violence was needed in educating the character. It could
make them knew the limit of something that they should not do. Both of my
parents were strict but not even curb me for once, especially my father. When
you asking for a permit, if he said yes then yes, but if he said no then no one
could make it yes. No excuses.
When
I was 5 years old, my parents taught me how to write and read something. Mother
introduced the alphabet, told me how to pronounce it, until asked me to try to
write something easy.
One
day on the night when the sun setting, my father made a small whiteboard for
me. I was really happy, and keep writing something with a weird handwriting.
Then my father tested my ability. He wrote ‘Kopi’ and ‘Gula’ in sequence. I
started to spell it one by one and read it slowly when he pointed at the word,
and I was correct for several times. Until my father flipped the sequence, he
pointed at ‘Gula’ first and I read it as ‘Kopi’, then he pointed at ‘Kopi’ and
once again I made a mistake by read it as ‘Gula’. He might be got mad and hit
my head with a ruler in sudden. I ran into mother and cried.
One
more thing that I could not forget. It happened when I stayed with my parents
for few weeks. Both father and mother went to work every morning, but my father
would always came home at 12 o’clock as his break time. When he was home I had
to have my lunch with him. I felt not hungry and did not want to have a lunch.
So, I hid inside of the wardrobe. While my father was confused looking for me
and finally found me there. He was mad then hit me with a broom stick. I just
realized, it was not about a lunch, but I worried him.
In
the other case, my father and mother was so mad when I became a little thief by
stole their 1.000 rupiahs in the piggy bank, and went to buy some candies. I did
not mean to steal. Every time I took the money, I was always asking for it to
the piggy bank, and I assumed that the piggy bank said yes. Still, my parents
called it a theft no matter what. They punished me yet told me, it was
something that I should not do, that it was wrong. Then they asked to promise
to not do that again, and I promised them.
There
is no such thing as a perfect marriage because it was made of 2 imperfect
person. They had to unite their ego. I could still say that my parents had a
good marriage because they made it together, and still together. Although they
had to go through such a hard struggle.
Sometimes
they argued but ended up by nothing. My mother talked a lot while my father
preferred to go out, smoked, and pretending like he did not hear anything. Mostly
my mother argued when she told my father to seek a better job as he had work in
a woodshed for 14 years, “Why don’t you try to seek another job?” she shouted
with anger in it. “Where ever you work, it would be same. Tired.” He said. Then
my mother reached her limit, “Of course it would be same, but not the salary!”
and my father lost his word. He could not say anything.
No need a long time, my father worked in one
of decoration and event planner company as an office boy there. My mother then
had to saving money as father had to pass a training period for 3 months. As
one of my father’s boss trusted him to take care of the warehouse on the night,
he started to join some wedding organizer to decorate the venue. Then he
decided to resign, and made his own business as a decoration vendor. It was not
easy to decrease the economic problems. My parents struggled to build their
business.
One
day my father got cheated by his friend. He had to pay the debts at the bank by
his self while it ought to be paid together. He was so disappointed but he
tried to let it away. My parents worked day and night. They made a light from a
banana trunk, photo booth, and prepared many kind of flowers for the event. It
was not running for a long time. He started to focus to be a lighting vendor
only as florist did not earn enough money. Then his economic increased until he
had some permanent employees. They deserve it as they had passed through up and
down of life.
If
you earn more income, then so do the outcome. My parents spent more money
lately. It was not for fun, they organized their money well. Paid off their
debts, school fees, bought household needs, and to ran their business.
In
the other hand, I spent my -not the whole but almost- 12 years with my
grandparents. Grandmother used to work in the rice field with her farmhand
while grandfather worked at the land to take care of his plants. The land was
filled by many kind of plants such as cloves, cacaos, coffee, mangosteen,
palms, banana, until wani –Balinese
white mango-. I used to help my grandfather in the land.
One
day he climbed the clove to scythe. My hand bleed. I could not feel my body,
tried to understand what happened, and ended up crying. Grandfather jump down
immediately, carried me in his arms. He started to cover the injury with herbs,
then teared his shirt to tie my hand which injured. I saw him like a hero at
that time. Sometimes, I helped grandmother too to keep the rice from birds
while she was harvesting the onions. It was so fun, ran and shouted to the bird
until the sun getting low in the west.
When the sky was getting dark, the
night came. We used to sleep together. Then grandfather told me a bedtime story
called, I Crukcuk Kuning. He was a
great story teller as he changed the story’s setting so I could imagine that
easily.
Few years passed. It was a cloves
season, we did the harvest well. Then on the night the lights was off by
sudden. I scared to sleep alone and decided to light the candle. I put it on
the small wardrobe which made of plastics without a candle platter as my
stupidity. Few hours later I was dreaming that I lost in the middle of desert
and felt so hot like I was going to burn there. Then I heard someone told me to
run, but I could not find who it was.
I awoke by sudden, sweating, found
myself in the bed room with fire, and almost burned to death. Then I tried to
get my consciousness and screamed. It did not take a long time, my grandfather
took the plastic wardrobe out in a second. He came back and saw that the fire
already burned a little part of the wood wardrobe. He did not need to think
twice, he extinguished the fire with his bare hand. I cried, did not
realize that my left thigh was hit by fire, and left a little scar there. All
of my stuff inside the wardrobe were burned. Nothing left, and not even my
piggy bank.
Instead of him,
grandmother the one who taught me to handle a responsibility. Swept the house,
made Canang –daily Balinese
offerings-, and mebanten –pray in
Balinese- every day were my responsibility. Unfortunately, she was gone. She
passed away when I was senior high school.
It
was a bright morning at one of vocational high school in Badung. I received a
call from my father. He told me that grandmother was gone. I could not say any
words. I went to home, and passed the road from Badung to Buleleng in hurry. Still
could not cry until I saw her lying stiffly with a pale skin, tears just fell
down from my eyes. I could not handle it, it broke my heart into pieces when
they covered her body with ice.
Since
she was gone, she often came into my dream. Ask me to not cry anymore and I did
it. I was happy to see her again even though it was just through a dream. Sooner
or later every single alive thing will die. We just need to wait for it.
When
I was a child, spent a time to explore the village was a must. If you think
that I was girly then it’s totally wrong. Instead of a Barbie doll, I preferred
a cap gun, robot, car and truck as my toys. My friends mostly a boy. There were
only some girls among them. Actually, they were not my friends but more like a
family. We spent our time to have some fun. Played, laughed, and loved.
Peek
a boo, football, gala-gala, poker,
race were the games that we used to play. When we played poker, we called it as
‘41’. The loser have to drink a full glass of water. Some of us drank for many
times until they got pee for several times.
One
day, we raced with our own tricycle. 1 team consist of 2 people, one as the
rider and the other one needed to push the tricycle. I was as the rider at that
time. We did it at the rocky road. How dare we are, but we had so much fun. It
was not ended yet. When it was late afternoon, we went to the river to take a
bath. We did some action drama there and came home with a purple lips when the
sky was getting dark. Then my pet would welcome me. I named it Doggy because it
was a dog. His body was full covered by white smooth fur. He has a black mark
on the tip of his tongue.
I
studied in Buleleng as I stayed there. In the age of 6 I was elementary school.
It took place about 2kms far from home, and it was about 20 minutes by feet.
You would find a beautiful garden there, a small fishpond with a relaxing place
in the middle of it. Every time I remember how my elementary school was, I would
describe with a word, fun.
I
was always got the top 3 as a rank for 6 year. It was because my father
promised me a bicycle if I got the first rank. Then I finally got it in grade
3, but I could not get my bicycle because father did not have enough money. So
I needed to wait for 6 months with a term. I had to keep stay on the first
rank. I did it. Finally I got my new bicycle a present, and it was cool. Who
were not happy to have your first bicycle? No one I guessed. Took a ride around
the village was really fun. It was my best gift ever.
When
I reached junior high school. It was hard to get the top 3 as I got it for
twice only, and the rest was on top 5. Then football was a part of my life. I
joined the extra-curricular to improve my skill. Then joined a competition or
just watching the boys did a match. I got many friends there, but just one
person for sure, Putri Dian Indriyani. She was my best friend yet my rival in
the class. We were a chair mate. She was the one who helped me to be confident.
Every
time when the teacher gave us some question, and I knew the answer, she forced
me to answer loudly. If I refused, she would mock at me then told the teacher
that I knew the answer. I was so grateful to know her. Both Putri and I loved
English. We were really interested in it and always been the center in the
English class.
I did
not know since when, but I would always love everything about English. Mr. Made
Wahyudi was my English teacher. He was the best teacher that I ever met. The
way he taught was so cool. I could understand everything easily if the teacher
was him. He loved to give us motivations, and lead us well. I would never get
bored of his class. If most of teacher told us about theory, but not him. He
had his own way to teach.
One
day, he asked us to sing our favorite western song in front of the class. Of
course, I became the first one to raise my hand up. I sang Justin Bieber’s song
Down To Earth confidently with my weird voice. “And mommy you were always
somewhere, Daddy I live out the town. So tell me how could I ever be normal
somehow. You tell me this is for the best so tell me why am I in tears? So far
away and now I just need you here. So we fight through the hurt, and we cry and
cry and cry. And we live, and we learn, and we try and try and try. So it’s up
to you and it’s up to me. And we meet in the middle of our way back down to
earth. Down to earth” I sang. I did
not know why I loved that song that much. I just could feel the song and that
was what I feel. The song represented my feeling.
He
knew that I felt the song so he told me that I was good at singing, even though
I knew that I was bad at it. Then he told us his favorite song. The title was
Lemon Tree, but I could not remember who the singer was. He taught us to sing
it together, and the song was pretty cool.
Every
Sunday, I would sit and turned the TV on to watch my favorite cartoon, Dragon
ball for hours. I did remember that I loved the whole character, especially Son
Goku who fought to collect the 7 dragon ball with his cool Kamekameha. Then I started to imitate him to do a Kamekameha, even I also collected the
character’s miniature. I loved it that much. Actually, there were so many
character that I loved such as Ninja Hatori, Power Ranger, Ultraman, Astroboy,
Captain Tsubasa, Satria Baja Hitam, and Scooby Doo. I could not mention it one
by one.
Once
in 6 months, I visited my parents in Denpasar to spend my holiday there. That
was the thing that I had waiting for. Stayed with them for few weeks, it could
be 2, 3, or even 4 weeks. We used to go to the City Park, beach, and Timezone
of course. In the end of my holiday, we went to the department store. We bought
stationary, bags, and a new shoes for me. One thing I did not want to skip was
playing in the Timezone. It made me amazed and wanted to try everything there.
There was no card point at that time, so we need to use a coin that we could
buy there.
I
used to play a horse rides, then I pretended like I was a king that ready to
war. Until I got older, the staff interrupted me to play that horse. “Sir, I am
so sorry, but your daughter seems like too older play with this, how if she try
another vehicles?” she said to my father. I was so disappointed.
In
the other vacation, we went to the beach because it was the cheapest place that
we could visited. We just needed to pay the parking fees, 1.000 rupiahs only. I loved beach but not swimming in it. I had a
bitter memory about beach. It happened when I was about 4 years old. My parents
and I went to one of the beautiful beach in Bali. Everything went normal. My
father buried his whole feet with the sand while my mother and I were playing
in the water. Then I started to seek a shell around the shoreline until saw one
that attracted my attention. There was no wave I saw. So I went a little bit
closer to the shell, then ‘byurr!’ the
waves dragged me away from mother. I screamed as I saw my father ran into me. I
could not swim at all. My breath was out of control. Fortunately, The God
wanted me to still alive by sent someone to save me.
Was
it normal if what you wanted to be in the future kept changing? Because I was.
Commonly, the children wanted to be a teacher because they loved their teacher.
So did I. Dreamed to teach everyone and became as beautiful as my teacher. No
longer after that I changed my mind, and to be a doctor. I thought that it
would be cool to wear a white coat. Helped people to get well or even saved
them who were dying like a super hero. It was really cool I thought. Until the
day came. There was an immunization program at school, and I had to take a part
of it.
The
bell rang. The teacher led us to the class room. She told us to make a line up
neatly while the doctor prepared his equipment. It began. My teacher called our
name one by one then the doctor injected my classmate’s right arms quickly.
They cried. I was scared.
Then
it was my turn. I take a long breath and came closer to the doctor. I saw he
filled in the injection by injected a small glass bottle. I was staring at him
when he pressed it a little until the medicine was gushed, and gulped. Then
that syringe pierced my skin quickly. It felt like the syringe pierced your
bone. I could not say anything. It was hurt. Since that time, I was afraid of
syringe, and did not want to be a doctor with it. So, every time someone asked
me what was I want to be, I would always say that I want to make my family
happy. It was random, I knew.
I
felt everything keep changing as I grew up. Growing up in the past and today
was totally different. A different air, society, condition, mind, goals and
soul. I was always seeking for fun in the past, did not need to worry about
anything, but today I have to think about the future, think about how to pass
the life successfully. I have been thinking of what will I be. Still, I could
not decide yet. Every simple thing in the past had changed to be difficult.
It’s not as easy as I thought. Now, I have to start to arrange the future
because when I am getting older and older, it’s mean that the time decrease.
People’s
curiousness would increase sharply when they were being a teenager. They loved
challenge and tried something new. So did I. Everywhere my father went to work,
I followed. As he was a lighting vendor, he went to many aesthetic places in
hotel, villa, or restaurant. I used to watch him work, and helped something
easy. I had so much fun there. He ever took me to one famous resort in Bali,
Ayodya Resort which took a place in Nusa Dua. It was a beautiful huge place
with a strategic location and private beach. It was not a resort but more like
a palace I thought. Ayodya Resort adopted Ramayana story as their concept, and
I loved it.
Besides
that, I used to hang out with my friends. Instead of a club or something
related with it, we spent our weekend to explore some restaurant in a mall.
Then played in the Timezone. Mostly, we visited one of our friend’s house and
cooked together. Then we share some stories until did something stupid like
dancing weirdly. We could not stop to laugh if we were in the same place
because of our own joke and stupidity. We called it as hang out. As long as we
could laugh together and refreshed our mind, then it was a hang out.
Have
you ever feel that time was running fast when you did something that you loved?
We spent the time until the sun was getting low, then then was getting darker
with it. I supposed to be at home at 10 in the evening but I crossed the limit.
My
father called my phone for several times and I just remembered that I have to go
home before it was too late. I let the phone keep on ringing because I did not
brave enough to pick the phone up. I passed the road in hurry and arrived about
to midnight. Then I found my father stared at me in front of the door. I knew
he was angry I realized that I was in trouble. It was scary when he angry but
remained silent. He did not give me a punishment or told me something. I
assumed that they he stared at me was a warning.
Senior
high school left a thousand gold memories. It was a period of enjoying the
youth. I had passed the up and down of senior high school. I met new people,
became friends, and finally found my bestie. I still could call it as a gold
memory even though I had a little bad story on it. I had a group which consist
of 7 person. We were always together until one day, one of them tried to incite
the other to stay away from me. I was slandered by doing something that I did
not do. I did not even know what it was. I confused, no one told me what was
going on. Why did I? There were hundred questions popped up in my mind. They
stayed away for weeks and I still clueless about everything.
They
mocked at me. They looked at me like they were so disgusting of me. Excepted
for 1 person who decided to trust me, it was Diah. She told me what was going
on and how did it happened. I was shocked, could not say anything for a while.
Then I tried to defend myself by explained what was actually happened to them.
I went home crying. I was so disappointed.
Still
with my complete uniform, I prayed in tears. “Please help me. There was someone
who slandered me. Do your magic. Please, show them who was the right and the
wrong one. I couldn’t handle this anymore. Help me to stay patient. If they
were supposed to be my friends, then please don’t take them away from me. But
if they are not supposed to be my friends, then keep them away from me. Show me
how the Karma works please. I beg you.” I said.
A
day after, when it was the time to went home at school, I saw them gathered
besides the lobby. I tried to get all of my bravery, I took a deep breath, and
walked into them. I apologized for something I never done. It was not about
admitted that I was wrong, but it was about put the relationship above the ego.
I felt much better after that.
Then
I used to alone at school, and sometimes Diah was with me. Finally I saw how
the Karma worked. Someone who slandered me was in my old position. No one
wanted to talk with her. Every one stayed away from her. Then my old friends
back to me. They apologized for what they had done. I accepted them with an
open arms of course. There were so much thing that I had learned in senior high
school. That’s why I said that it left a thousand gold memories. I should thank
to Diah because she still trusted me when everyone did not. She was a great
best friend. She is a great best friend.
A
hello must be ended up by a goodbye, isn’t it? Then it was time to say goodbye
on the graduation day in one of hotel in Bali. We prepared it well. Balinese
blouse, high heels, and make up. We tried to show our best. The MC called the
graduation participants one by one to go up to stage. We received our
graduation medal there and took a photo. It was a happy yet touching moment in
senior high school.
After
this ‘goodbye’ we were going to start a new ‘hello’ in the other place. That
was not the ending but the start of a new journey in the different level. I
reflected it as a video game, especially one of the most happening game nowadays,
PUBG. Every time you passed the level, there will be a new higher level with a
new challenge. Then so did the life work, passed a level did not mean that it
was the ending. There were many higher levels more waiting.
I
did not really had a dream, but I told myself to keep on going. Undergo what
should have to happened and keep trying. If God allow, my plan, my dream would
become true as the time passed. I am preparing myself to go to Australia when I
graduated later as my cousin have been working there for several years.
Honestly,
I doubt whether I should go or stay here. I am worry about all bad
possibilities that probably could happen. I am scared, but I have to challenge
myself. I have to take all the opportunities because it would come for twice,
third, or even fourth.
I hope
that I could be a useful person for everyone.
