I have lived six days back in my old home, Jakarta, Indonesia, and am already craving for coffee. For a steady internet connection. For a mosquito-less environment. But guess what? I’m home.
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This story is a sequel to One day. And it’s a story about hope. But most of all, it’s always been a story about love.
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9.51am. She was on her way, but she was restless.
Nervous. Her hands sweating, her heart pounding. She checked the time, 10.01am. Don’t worry, she said to herself, you’ll get there on time.
She closed her eyes and tried to sleep, but couldn’t. She looked out of the window, but her mind was racing.
Soon, she said to herself. Soon.
She felt like it was the longest bus ride she had ever been.
The girl began to look at her phone, and stared at the background photo. Her smiling happily while resting her head on a guy’s shoulder, and the guy who is kissing her head while wrapping his right arm around her.
Hers.
Soon, she mumbled. Soon.
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Life is full of choices and surprises, and sometimes, you just have to make one, and go with it. There are easy and hard choices, but the key is knowing which is the right one. Each choice has its own baggage and once you decide, there’s no turning back.
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IT’S easy to be lured into copying what successful people have done to succeed. But sometimes their paths are not yours to take.
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You know, there is a bar for every expectation. You submit an assignment, hoping for a B and then you get an A+. You go to your local cafe one morning for brunch but they serve awful food. And perhaps, to be happy, or deemed successful, you need to exceed the expectation.
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Being a writer is a choice. It’s my choice. But once in a while there will be one-of-those-people who deems writing as a not-good-enough dream.
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This is a short story about hope. But most of all, it’s a story about love.
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After three years, you have finally graduated. You get to wear the university’s regalia, complete with fancy certificates in hand. You have graduated, and this is, the ceremony commemorating your journey. But what if no one’s there?
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Among the three exhibitions I have ever been: The Titanic, Harry Potter, and Narnia, well, frankly speaking, this one’s not worth going.
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Can you believe it? I’ve watched the last Twilight and still alive (and not become a vampire, dracula, or werewolf)! Woo-hoo! Okay, just so you know, I’ll give it a six out of courtesy…
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