This idea struck me as I stood in the train station as the couple next to me cheering up on presumably their baby. I stumbled upon this concept of feeling concerned and worried of somebody else's incapability to prepare for the world, or being super proud of their achievement. 

I think I grew up selfish. Or maybe in my defense, I don't think those feelings are relevant to me. I don't have children whose future I should worry about. However, this thought almost gets me sobbing. 

There are many things that I am uncertain about. But I firmly believe that my parents are among those who walked through these emotions. The kind of people who are in the most pain when their kids suffers from the slighthest headache, or the people who celebrate the longest for every new trophy, like, staring at it as if it was the first time it was brought home. 

I remembered vougely when I was in high school, I told my mother the things that I couldn't cope with. We were in the kitchen table. She stayed silent, couldn't think of the come out as if my incapabilities are her fault. From that moment, I am all capable for her. No more whining. 

Another thing I notice is the excitement she showed whenever I called, switching from laying in front of the TV, to straight up sitting with the phone right in front of her nose. 

I remember when she told me that she used to be a smart student but the economic situation made her not continue to school. This story always encouraged me to always try in my academic matters, if I think about it now, she is indeed very smart for a junior high school graduate only . She’s practically a multitalent.

She rejected to put up with what she wants to achieve. Ever since her first daughter born (and that its me ) to this world, she extended her milestones to these kiddos of her. So now whenever I failed, I am not the only one that's crushed, she comes along with me. When this happen, will there be way for me to give up without shreding her too? 

I know for sure this should not be an add- on weight to me, nor does she ever mention about it. But with all the hope, fear, courages, love, sympathy and care that she extends to me, I'm afraid of failing in this world because it feels like I will disappoint her the most.

i am sorry Mom, for the things i have’nt been able to give you.

I sat down on a park bench, basking in the glow of the most stunning sunset I had seen in a while. It was one of those moments when the world just seems to pause, and everything around you comes alive with color. As I sat there, a woman who could have been around my age, suddenly appeared nearby. She didnt say a word but stood there, captivated by the same breathtaking view. For an instant,I couldnt help but wonder what was going through her mind. Was she contemplating, just like I do in these serene moments? Then, as if reading my thoughts, she reached into her bag with determination and pulled out her cellphone. In a swift move, she snapped a photo, immortalizing the scene in front of us. I couldnt help but smile at the thought that she might not stumble upon that picture for another year

I fear forgetting. Its why I take pictures. I cherish them all as tangible extensions of my fragile memories. And I am almost sure that Im not alone in this sentiment. Its poetic, I think, the way we humans cling to mementos like they are lifelines to the past. And if you ever call me a nonsensical sentimental hoarder, I wont even bat an eyelash. It is the course of nature. Even our body keeps the score. Like the scar on my knee from my first-ever bike accident or the scar on my forehead when i fell after the morning assembly ceremony. There are traces of happiness and sorrow that we outburst on our faces, permanently curving the corners of our mouths; visible lines. They are part of a life lived, and I wouldnt have it any other way

since i worked in this company i’ve experience commuting to work everyday by various ways : by car, by bus , by foot , by motorcycle. 

speaking of which, i’ve covered the 6 kms two round trips between home-office and office-home by driving, walking , and sitting on the back of a motorcycle. 

i actually just tried to use Transjakarta in the mid 2022. so far, its the best option among others as its the cheapest by costing me under IDR 10k/ day, the healthiest by encouraging me  to walk at least 2 kms daily to reach the nearest bus stop ; and the most convinient if ( by luck ) i get the seat so i wont feeling sore when breaking through the traffic jams.

The cons, thought : the post-rain traffic on the way home is so insane that we will possibly takes 2 hours for the distance you’d normally cover in 1 hours max. but i guess the street photos ive collected ever since being Tj regular becomes one of my favorite keepsakes.

here some of it :

2022 taught me that chaos and order are two sides of the same medal . It taught me that sadness and love go hand in hand, and that life is easy and complicated at the same time. It taught me that many wishes actually come true, but never in the way we expect, and most often with a catch. It taught me that sun and rain follow each other, even though we might have to wait for years, months and days for rain to stop falling sometimes. It taught me that human are beings lazy and energetic, good and bad, young and old, honest and dishonest, happy and sad, all at the same time, together and lonely.

It taught me that we are forever longing for what we do not have, until we get what we long for. Then we start longing for what we lost when our dreams came true. 

This 2022 screams absurdities to me, and dragged me in like no other. I recognise some relation wherever I go, it follows me like a shadow. 

Months passed by, what started as an escape slowly creeped in and said ‘’lets see what we can do next ? ‘’ everything is tiring, but one must do,no ? Later, the tossing waves calm down. what I thought was a skipwreck turned out to be just crack . The pain wouldnt be for evermore.