If I broke your heart last night
It's because I love you most of all
It's because I love you most of all
A couple days ago, I was devastated due to one or two reasons. First times always take its toll on me. Being away from home was immensely broken my spirit in to pieces, not saying I have still got it whole in one piece though because growing old somehow cost me a little part of my soul every there a bit. Once it gets difficult, it always going to get easier. It always is. I was never able to see that, the bigger picture, when the idea of something already gotten me down. If you are feeling low, try to step back just two small steps back, then try to see the bigger picture because maybe you are seeing it too close. Well, maybe after you are strong enough to think clear, then read what I have written above.
Reality had failed to meet my personal wants to come home for this Ied; Muslims annual tradition of celebrating the big day with family after one month-full fasting. In my nineteen years old life, I have never ever missed Ied with my family until this year. It hurts, man. Knowing seventeen hours flight away, all of your loved ones are together celebrating one of your most favorite days of the year. Babe, if you were able to spend Ied with your family the other day, you were lucky, my friend. Do not ever complain about that. The first few days after I figured out the tiny little hope I might have come home vanished, I cried for hours. I have never thought hope kills, everyone. I did not know I have signed up for this. As if I was expecting to have my own terms and condition list every time I made decision. Life-changing decision. Then, I could not see anything but darkness of being alone. The lights just gone.
But then I stopped caring. I noticed I give a shit too much. So, the second point, stop giving shit to everything. I was sort of, what the word, accept. I accept the fact that I could not come home. Then everything started to get easier. I was starting to enjoy what's the fact has offered me. I spent Ied with my fellow Indonesian friends whom are far from home and loved ones as well. The contents of yesterday's celebration were 75% eating three plates of any kind of food, 15% watching this new-born baby sleeping, and 10% watching my friends go crazy on karaoke. To be honest, I was not a big fan of babies. They seemed very fragile to me, I might break them. But yesterday, I noticed, baby was one of god's best blessing. They were just beautiful on its vulnerable way. Despite the details, it almost felt like I did not even celebrate Ied in England. Everything just sound ordinary; especially no local mosque's loud noise of takbiran. And I felt just fine.
It was funny how I was emotionally destroyed a couple days ago due to this Ied thing. I think, this was all part of the main thing about Ied. It was about forgiveness. On the last day of Ied, everyone suppose to apologize to those who they may have hurt because of one's intended actions or not and the other way around, to just simply forgive. I think I have forgive those who may have taken account on the mistake on my visa earlier this year, all the elements on this world that might have conspired all together to get on my way to come home this Ied, and him who had been messing with my head for quite a while (and a long list more). And most of all, I think I forgive myself. Nevertheless, I also plea for forgiveness upon those whom I may ever caused inconvenience. Frankly, the Ramadhan atmosphere here just does not get me enough to send text message to everyone, but you know what I want to say, so here it represent the text that never been sent.
Oh boy, this is a long post. Have a great summer, everyone. And Ied Mubarak to those who celebrate! x
