Sometimes life is so beautiful like a bunch of fireworks but the sparks gone real quick. Sometimes life requires us to bend it and curve it to shine in the darkest times like a glow-stick. Life is not always fun like hugging tight a cute guy from behind on the ride. Life is not always exciting like a roller-coaster and makes your heart pounds so fast. Life is not always easy-go-go like a Ferris wheel either which slowly lifts you up, spins you down and repeat. And also life is not always complex like a green labyrinth where we could be completely lost. Maybe it’s just like Post Malone’s song; we’re just running in circles while seasons and things are changing around but we remain the same.

This year is all about letting go, forgetting and moving on. This phase is about leaving, changing and becoming. This year is a lesson, a blessing and a heavy metal. And I’m supposed to be creative, productive instead of being melancholic. This year is colorful but some colors so shy to play when all the blue take over the space. This summer is so dry yet it makes my eyes wet. The yellow leaves fall down dramatically every time the wind sings. The birds chirp from the cages and the cats bask in the sunshine even no one gives a toss. Imagine how precious to spot this married butterflies flirting like they’re in Neverland and a couple of flawless white bird enjoying near the fake fountain with real fish in it. And I was in awe when a cat instantly crawled up to my lap when I pussed her. She seemed needy for affection so I patted her. When I really needed to get up, she scratched my skirt wanting me to stay. I combed her hair when she got mad at me. Because kitty, we all have to leave when its time and being left is no special.

When it comes to flowers, I love to write as they’re my friends in real life. They all bloom so soft that makes me want to stop and adore. Those purple flowers in front of the place I stay remind me to get some rest by closing their petals at night. Because if there’s a time to work, there’s also a time to have a break. And Frangipanis could be seen everywhere here though. To be honest, I have some memories with this beauty. The reason I admire them so much is even after they fall and dry, they still try to be decent. Every time I have to pass by, I say “Hi” to them and give them my quick air-kisses. For me, they are the examples of unbothered queens just by existing.

I never knew how it feels to live alone in somewhere no one knows my name. I’ve never lived in a place that I don’t have to smile to people on the street because everyone is my new stranger. It’s weird being here where no one can call my name right and doesn’t know my favourite nickname. There’s no favorite snack bar of mine here. I need to use google-map to go when I want to buy some essential things. Language barrier makes me a nice and quiet girl who always smiles, nods along and shutting up my mouth.

However, I try to find a sprinkle of joy in every possible thing, in the morning sun, in the small yellow flowers mounting on the tall grasses, in the scattered dots of stars and the compliments from a woman whose food I buy to eat. While Sam Smith asking me howdoisleep, ‘𝐼’𝓂 𝒹𝑜𝓃𝑒 𝒽𝒶𝓉𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓂𝓎𝓈𝑒𝓁𝒻 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝒻𝑒𝑒𝓁𝒾𝓃𝑔. 𝐼’𝓂 𝒹𝑜𝓃𝑒 𝒸𝓇𝓎𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓂𝓎𝓈𝑒𝓁𝒻 𝒶𝓌𝒶𝓀𝑒. 𝐼’𝓋𝑒 𝑔𝑜𝓉𝓉𝒶 𝓁𝑒𝒶𝓋𝑒 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓈𝓉𝒶𝓇𝓉 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒽𝑒𝒶𝓁𝒾𝓃𝑔,’ I was trying to balance my catwalk steps on the platform of pavement at the same time. I feel you Sam except there’s no “but” for me after those lines. One late night, I was sitting in front of the library stretching out my legs. There’s a grass squared field facing the library which is neat and huge. Then I got an idea and ran straightly to it. I took off my shoes, held them each in my hands and I galloped like a pony; feeling the wet under my feet and also a bit afraid of stepping on the sharp rocks. I felt free and younger. The cold breeze wrapped me around and I felt loved by my jacket.

I don’t think they'd know I have panic attacks when I’m in the crowds and metal breakdowns before I go out. And I don’t think they need to know too. Maybe this is normal. Maybe this is a good thing. Maybe so many people out there could relate. Maybe it’s okay to feel this away. Definitely maybe. My new friends here tell me I’m brave and confident. I just hope they know that I have no choice to be choosy in order to survive.

I remember that night I went out to find a dark place to cry. Too bad, there’s none. So I sat on the bench crowned by vines of bougainvillea flowers. At a glance, there was this young lovebirds comforting each other. I pulled my knees close to hug them and rested my chin upon. My eyes and my emotions didn’t cooperate very well at that time. When I got back to my place, before I slept, I made myself cry my heart out with the help of sad music fuel.

The next very early morning, I was standing in the middle of a thousand new students. How bizarre it is that there’s an official angry committee to yell at us. I was THE only one who doesn’t speak their language so there’s no reason to give them a damn. I was quietly humming some songs and counting the apple-like-fruits on the tree near the building. Around the time of sun about to rose up and shone, I was watching another tree because it has leaves shaped like birds. Apparently, it was like birds were resting on the branches and the background was amazing. I’d say the view was pretty underrated.

I don’t really know how homesick is. I can’t explain how I’m feeling in the meantime, being away from my home and everything. Is it nostalgic or sentimental? I’ll be honest I feel like getting offended a tad when someone tells me that I’m getting homesick. I just shake my head. Whatever, they’re not entirely wrong and so am I. Because my heart breaks a little bit a lot every time I know I have to hang up my mom’s calls. My tears flow like river to listen the voice message of dad’s saying “papa loves you”. And I admit it’s so hard to read my aunt’s text “I really hope these 4 years will be gone ASAP.”

Honestly, I don’t usually miss people. I think of them of course. And it’s always a pleasure to talk with people I’m close with and who speaks the same language as me. Not only here, even in my town, I never feel like I’m someone of something. Sense of belonging is never my thing. JOMO (joy of missing out) slides into my life as a pal. The truth is my ‘home’ is me myself. I belong to myself. I’m the one who’s in charge to take care of myself. I’m the one who’s responsible to ask me how am I and take action. I guess I need to make myself home wherever I go. So I’d still feel homey in this different world just by being myself.

Things are hard because nothing is supposed to be easy. But I like to be here. I want to stay. Now, I’m turning pages to write new chapter of my life. At this juncture, most things will be phased in and I’ll be okay and stronger when the others are phased out.