I remember, the last day of me living in Jakarta, I woke up at 6, trying to sleep again, but I couldn’t. Something in my head didn’t let me pass my last day meaninglessly.

I need to do something, cause this is my last day.

First thing I do was going outside, sitting at the front garden, and looking at every single person who passed the street. At 6.30 he passed me, in the red vehicle with his daughter, who was wearing moslem uniform, sitting on him. He was taking off his daughter’s bag from her.

I smiled widely, and suddenly felt too afraid to leave all of these. Something in my heart was ready to explode, but it didn’t. And that was time for packing, I still thought that I should pour all these feelings no matter how. Then I brought my mobile and its headset. Hoped that way would be worked.

I started packing as the songs started playing.

It had been a long time since I involved at a huge cry like that.


What am I afraid most, of leaving my current place?

I’m too afraid something will have changed by the time I come back, even the smallest one.

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