I want to go home. But at this point, I don’t even know where home is.
Whether it’s Colorado Apartments, where I grew up or
Santa Barbara right here, in Indonesia, the place that I was born and the place I belong. But I’m not even sure I really belong. People sure don’t treat me like I belong. And now I’m crying and it’s stupid, I know. But I don’t know. I’ve never belonged anywhere really, have I? All my life I’ve moved from here to there and I feel like I don’t have any roots. Or at least, I do have roots, but I’ll never get to experience the growing roots. All I can do is wait for some years and then see what the seeds I’d grown up with have grown into. Of course, I’m using a lot of metaphors here…
I hear the adzan and I remember childhood in Indonesia, but those memories have nearly slipped from grasp. It’s hard to recall them. And I’m starting to observe, that during the moments-for example, in a movie-that a character has a flashback or loses someone is where I most want to cry(and often do). Because I think that experiencing something yourself makes you able to feel more empathy for other people experiencing it right then.
Sometimes when I’m with my friends, there is a tiny ache in my heart because I know that those friends will go; memories. Which is why I so want to take pictures, because I want something to remember them by. You know what else? My friends always treat me differently. I wish they didn’t. I’m just a normal girl, like any of them. They don’t have to give me any special attention. In fact, I’d rather they not be different with me. I’m just a person. It’s hard sometimes to be yourself and not to be quiet and to stand up. It’s hard and it won’t be easy, to watch people come and go, and leave others behind as I continue my journey, but I know deep in my heart, that this will all lead somewhere. I’m on a path, and I can’t see the end, since it’s so far off, but I can already see how bright it is. Insyaallah.
People say that home is where the heart is. But my heart, it’s everywhere.
I’m sad to say it-even if it is the truth-but Umi and my relatives aren’t really where my heart is. Yet. But I do love them and I care about them so much, but they’re not where my heart is. Papa, Mama, and Dede are where my heart is. But who are the friends I have my heart in? They’re gone. And that hurts. But one day, all of this too will be gone.