Few years ago, when the boy I once loved moved to the States, I realized how terrible it felt to be left and to be the one who stayed. One thing led to another, I, too decided to leave Jakarta. I moved to England with all the excitement packed in my luggage, sleeves - everywhere, somehow I thought by moving, I was also leaving the awful feeling of being left. I forgot in every meeting, there will always goodbye at some point. I was not aware, when I built my life in England, I built new relationships that do not meant to last - not in the way it is cheap and weak, but more like there is an expiry date depending on the length of the course. We are all travelers here, alongside with the purpose of studying. This is not home, we are all bound to leave - again, although few may be decided to reclaim England as home - but most of them are not.
Two of my favorite people had to move on with their lives a couple days ago while my chapter here has not finished just yet. I do still have other great friends that keep me from falling, but these two were also part of my days, of the life I have built. Then, the feeling I tried to avoid - the hollowness, the void, the weight of something's missing - is back. I am feeling horrible. Of course I tried to run away. To anything, anyone that is possible. But every time, the waves always keep dragging me back to the sea. This feeling affects the way I see the world gleams, it is not as bright, appealing and exciting as before, in addition with the English wet, gloomy weather. The idea of not having them one phone call away is terrifying. Weekend plans now are just wishes. It's funny how aware I am of this, but I am still letting myself sulking in this terrible, terrible feeling.
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