Georgetterox

Today I’m 24. They said, this year I am supposed to grow up. Coz, my Mom, at this age, had already had me. My friends, Reth and Rayz, at this age, too, next week, are getting married. My other friend, Seth, who’s still 24, even had already carried his second child. Out of the wed-and-breed thing, Rhon, my friend who’s almost 24, is handling a big building project in Singapore. My other friend, Wie, also 24, has gone for umrah, twice. Niez, 24, nowadays is taking master degree in Bangkok. My cousin, Shan, at this age, had blazed her chocolate shop business in Malang. My other one, Queen, at this age, passed away of mumps.

I’m 24, husbandless, even childless. I haven’t passed my college, even worked, so I haven’t had enough salary to pay my own religious tour. I haven’t ever representated this country abroad, except if that piano show at the student audiences in Sydney is included. It’s true that sometimes I get sick, several times I come in and out of operation room for surgery, and I’ve ever tried for suicide, but I’m still alive.

So, what the hell is the different among this age 24 and last ages 23 or 22? It’s not much more, my new skills, except suturing the injury wound on my patient’s head and having my own website. But is that what they call “grow up”?

I wish that I had a new sweetheart, coz I’m tired with my old boyfriends who adores polygamy, childish, dishonest, and didn’t treat me good. When I swore to my self to forget my last baby that my Momma didn’t bless, I just regretted to date someone new coz he wasn’t as good as him, my last baby.

How much I wanna kick my own head, and accuse,

“Why did you let him go?

Didn’t he hug you warm and got mad at you when you didn’t behave like a good girl?

Wasn’t he a great reason why you woke up in the morning with a good mood and dressed up before you went to work?

Compare yourself between the past and the present, didn’t you become a better woman after you knew him, than when you were still a selfish bitch?

Didn’t he always make you laugh even at the moments when you really didn’t wanna smile up?

Didn’t you love him so much?

WHY DID YOU LEAVE HIM?”

A part of my heart replies all of those damn questions, “Coz of that difference between us, I can’t stand by him forever. There’s no future for us.”

What I’ve been scared at, now comes true. I’ve just already found out, that my ex-sweetheart, has already been in a relationship. He forgives himself, who seems didn’t take good care of our last relationship, and now he tried to make a brand new life with somebody new. It’s hard to call myself happy to hear it, coz: I shoulda done the same thing with another man, but how hard I’ve been trying with someone new, it’s really hard for me to forget my ex. I never let him go. Not even a second.

We both are 24 now. He’s grown up. And I haven’t grown up. And it really makes me sad.

Dock. Dock. Dock. I have just realized that the lane that I am fringing is rocky, and my heels make friction with the rocks on the ground that was not paved at all. It has been hours I have walked in and out the slums, knocking the doors of local Mr RWs, by asking them, whom of their neighbours, who probably have TBC, because I’m gonna pick them up to Puskesmas to cure them, uncharged. On foot, no driving, cause the lanes aren’t loaded by motorcycles, even cars.

I‘m afraid to see my soles, coz I’m scared that I’ll get faint coz I’m frightened to see them. They must’ve looked horrifying now, same like the bottom of a car which has hitted a lot. It’s OK, I’ve let it go. Far before they had me work in Puskesmas for a month, I’ve been told that I’m gonna be a doctor who gives door-to-door consultation for the citizens. Not preparing the material for consultation, I just shopped for new shoes. None, the stock of my shoes inside my wardrobe are too chic, it’s inappropriate if I wear them for walking in the lanes. Beside if my shoes are too beautiful, not a doctor they’ll call me, but they can misguess that I’m a cosmetic salesgirl.

“Vic, stop it!” my friend, Ruhn, 23, whimpers. She’s exhausted because we’ve been walking door to door all day long.

I look at her upset, by asking inside, why God can award me an high spirit and a good stamina for walking, while my friend is easily flabby after walking for hours.

“What, are you starving?” I asked. Maybe next time we have to carry some lunch box if we wanna work in slums.

“No, it’s hurt in my legs!” Then, as like she wanna faint, she nears the veranda of a local house, then she sits down.

I look at her legs, and I understand why we’re so totally different. Not because I was created with high spirit or a good stamina, but it’s just the matter of shoes. When I prefer low heels with fine angles, my friend just picks up sandals. High heels! And they’re pink! Oh my Gosh.

YOU CAN WEAR HIGH HEELS AT PARTIES. BUT NOT WHILE YOU’RE WORKING AT SLUMS.

Coz the condition of local nature stops us from looking sophisticated. On the contrary, the models of girls shoes aren’t created for working in slums. They’re easy to chafed, easy to rip off, absolutely not cool. Especially high heels, you really can’t wear them if you wanna walk by the causeways!

Yongky, Donatello, BeBop, help us girls. We wanna wear pretty shoes while we’re on duty entering slums, without have to worry that our shoes rip off easily. And we still wanna be guessed as a respectable profession, not just misguessed as salesgirl on high heels..

That day he stared at me in blue. He was so sad, much more sorrowful than the happy days that we spent together before. “I can’t do this, Vic,” that’s all that he said. Even he wasn’t that brave to tell me that we’re breaking up. He didn’t wanna lose me. But he’d gotta think of his own. He was trapped in difficult choices about whom that he had to sacrifice. And he preferred sacrificing me.

The day of sorrow returns to my memory, when I was called by a friend, who now has become my ex-future-brother-in-law _hayyah..!. He said my cousin dumped him. No announcement, no negotiation, no explanation. This ex is going mad. That before, he has asked my cousin to meet her parents on his hometown. That he has saved a deposit to buy a house for my cousin. If that’s not enough, that he has intimated with our family. Even last week he paid my aunt to fly from Surabaya to Jakarta. And now my cousin just leaves him.

“Why did you break up with him?” I asked my cousin. “D’you think four-years-relationship is not enough to make you marry him?”

She shakes her head. She can’t live with her boyfriend. Coz, her ex’s family is too..how can she call it? Traditional.

Oh, so this is about money. She can’t cook in her mother-in-law’s house by an oil stove.

And, that makes her more terrified, it seems that in her boyfriend’s hometown, a lot of local citizens eat pork.

It’s always religion that ruins our love. As like there’s no other accurate reason. Isn’t that enough to let your husband’s family eats pork, while we pretend to be a vegetarian?

“Maybe now it’s not a problem, Vic,” said my cousin. “But later? If there’s any crash? Who knows?”

I remember back my own ex. How big the love that I’ve built with my baby was, we still had to separate. We’re different kinda people. I don’t go to the chapel like him. Not like me who just stays cool when Vatican gets mad about Da Vinci Code, he probably gets upset to see his religion’s tradition gets tumbling down. And I love my baby, who’s formed by the religion that I don’t trust.

If love was a bird, then we wouldn’t have wings. If love was a sky, we’d be blue.

If love was a choir, you and I could never sing, cause love isn’t for me and you.

If love was an Oscar you and I could never win, cause we can never act out our parts.

If love is the Bible, then we are lost in sin, because it’s not in my heart.

Thank God we’re broken up now. Thank God our sister has broken up now. I don’t know what will be if we have already broken up when we’re married later. It’s gonna be a lot of things to sacrifice; how much the cost that we’ve spent, how many our family will get hurt, how often our children will cry beneath their blanket to avoid their parents being quiet each other.

Because love is not just a goodnight-call. Love is not just a kiss and hugs. Love is not just a sex. LOVE IS RESPONSIBILITY.

Tell our sweethearts:

Baby, I know we had some good times, it’s sad, but now we gotta say goodbye.

Baby, you know I love you, I can’t deny.

I can’t say we didn’t try to make it work for you and I.

I know it hurts so much, but it’s best for us.

Somewhere along this windy road, we lost the trust.

So I’ll walk away, so you don’t have to see me cry.

It’s killing me so, so why don’t you go your way and I’ll go mine?

Live your life, and I’ll live mine.

Baby, you’ll do well, and I’ll be fine, cause we’re better off, separated..