Dear Santa

Dear santa, if you do really exist, but do not worry, I am starting not to doubt the existence of a lot of things recently, do not feel excluded or anything. there is no offense implies here.

How are you, Santa? Hope you are doing well. My name is Fiya, has been 19 years old for approximately two weeks and two days. Assuming going through the phase of thirteen years old teenager all over again. I am new in this town, Bournemouth. Small town on the Southern part of England, the one with the lovely beach. Sixteen hours away from the first home. Busy making this town as the second. Getting there, I believe.

It is just this Christmas thing, Santa. This is my first year spending Christmas holiday where everyone actually celebrates. Both in a way the majority of people's beliefs and/or just an inherited culture. And this might be the first time I ever feel this lonely because most of the best people I know in this new town, are coming home. Home where the loved ones are, doing mostly what I have always looking forward during Ramadhan.

I have no rights to declare this is not fair, because this is a rather very sensitive situation as I am seeing everything through a subjective perspective, the natural selfish human being kind of way. Gah, I despise it because by only acknowledge it does not help AT ALL. If my life is a TV series, the other supporting characters that builds the story going, will soon to be leaving the scene for quite a long while. Nearly one month. Thus, the tendency to feel like going home increased 110%.

Daniel, the racist German, a walking general knowledge book, a prick and full time best friend, going to thy green Scotland meeting his lovely girlfriend. Hidetaro, the punk rock Japanese guy slash soon to be psychologist and a prick, going to Amsterdam and Poland to get basically shitfaced and collects the best of freedom along with the English Alex, who basically only worship single life freedom and being a prick as his part time occupation. Whilst Kim, the Korean prick who believe he was half black, already in London as we speak. And so on, and so on, this list might still on going contains nearly 98% of jealousy hence I'd better end here.

Here I am, on the floor, typing, with 1/4 cold crepes Dan bought at the Christmas market earlier, technically trying to let go the fact that I am not going to come back home in the next three weeks and pretty much have NO idea what am I going to do the next days forward. It has to be noted, not that I hate this town or country, it is simply because the undeniable tension to spend this kind of free days with the loved ones and familiarity of Jakarta won't leave me alone especially when it stays within my unconsiousness.

I might as well stays on this floor, in front of this laptop for the next three weeks. I might. Although unlikely to happen because I believe by then I might lose my mind, and I have moved to the mental hospital. Juuuuuuuust kidding. My family and friends especially Daniel and Hide would have kick my arse already. Which they already kind of did this past one week though the result seemingly not yet responding. YET.

I might just write a blog forever until the next term start and when I get back with actual things to do. Oh Santa, I just want to spend this festive holiday with my loved ones. Family and friends. Considering I have no boyfriend to mention. Quoting once the famous Britney Spears' song, my loneliness is killing me. Maybe Santa, just a little hopeful maybe, you might help me. Rumor has it, there is this Christmas miracle.

I have no chimney, I won't open my window cause baby, it's cold outside and I will lock the door for the sake of feeling safe, but Santa, I still hope for Christmas miracle. Not sure how you delivers the miracle package and in what kind of form, but you can tell the sun as the light creeping in through the window every morning where I always am in the most vulnerable state during the whole day, or through the cold winter air, slides in between the small gaps underneath the door, and everywhere.

Santa, I am not crying, I am not pouting and I have been a good girl according to my dictionary so please. I know you are coming to town, make sure you come to Bournemouth. Then prove me, okay? glühen wine on me if we meet. The talking goose on the German market really entertaining, I tell you. Oh, hope you do surf on the internet otherwise you can not read this lonely letter of mine.

Don't keep me waiting. You know we all hate that. Looking forward to hear from you. x x

Your curious yet desperados little fan,

Fiya.