It been three month I invaded Jakarta. every night I spend half of hour to think and write down every sense that i’ve sensed that day. Named Jurnal Jakarta, handwriting, lay next to my Frank Sinatra cassette. And every single night I wrote “I miss home” on the bottom of it.
I do, its kinda lonely to live in a strange place, barely without friends or family so I rarely in touch with others. But the saddest part is, I have no place called home. I feel insecure, cold, and.. lonely :’) maybe I have to re-think about this dream. Yes, I’m the one who refuse to stay at a small place named Sampit. Yes, I’m, the one who insist to share my dream with this monstrous city.
But still, I hate this homeless thingy. The traffic, the poisonous air, the sun that bright too damn hot, the weather that impersonating old-just-had-men-o-pouse-lady, the language that sounds like anger in every words, it takes three month for me to hate Jakarta, yet I’m not entirely see this city.
There, saya akhirnya mengeluh juga terhadap Jakarta 😀