My happiest moment didn't happen in Indonesia. My most memorable moment didn't occur there too. The most beautiful place I've seen wasn't in Indonesia. The warmest hug I didn't receive from Indonesians. The most beautiful sky can't be seen from Indonesia.
The love I feel for that country is forced, a result of years of indoctrination agenda by the desperate regime, trying to instill an impossible attraction to a country that has many potentials but no luck.
No luck, mind you, no freaking luck.Then, why the intense longing?
I often said to myself before I sleep.
I dream the happiest dreams in the imagination land far far away. The blue sky from heaven is making love to the turquoise sea. To feel the air and smell the sand in my feet. My hands are reaching to the faces I recognize, those who I care deeply. The people were all pretty and friendly. The laughters and heartfelt conversations follow me and I couldn't help but closing my eyes, smiles all around.
Then, as with the troubling nature of dreams that have to end, I wake up abruptly - to feel the stabbing pain in my chest as I struggle to catch a cold, cold air in the land that offers thousands of opportunities but no heartfelt warmth.
That land I called Indonesia never exist. My beautiful photoshopped postcard. I was never there, and probably never will.
a0z0ra @ 1:27 AM  |