House isn't home

It’s been two weeks since I moved to Netherlands, and unlike many other people who always complain about leaving Indonesia for western country, I, to be honest, am enjoying my stay here. Hahaha. I’m sure it’s not because of the city - bearing in mind the lonely Sunday and the no-mall city, but I think it’s more because I am loving my study so much that I totally forgot that I’m living in here.

I’ve been really tied up with study, lately. Nonetheless, I’m learning so many new things every single day at the campus, and luckily I’m doing things that are still very much related to Economics. Something that at least I'm good at. Hahaha.

Talking about Netherlands, I can never feel at home in this country. I’m not sure why, but this city always feels foreign to me. Everything I see, passes by like a scene, moving from one frame to another, in a fast pace, representing the unknown, manifesting in a self-contradicting reality, unfamiliar, strange. Not home.

-

I don’t know what I’m writing here, and I don’t even think I can finish the previous paragraph.

I miss D.

Sometimes I cry in my dreams because I remember the idea of our warm hugs and kisses but I can’t remember how they feel like.

Sometimes I cry during our Skype dates because I feel so happy to see his face but also heartbroken cause he’s not really with me.

Sometimes I listen to my favorite songs and wish D could sit next to me and together sing our hearts out.

Sometimes I laugh remembering our stupid moments and wish D could be here and laugh with me too.

Sometimes I know how broken I am inside and wish I could tell him how unwell I am but then I start convincing myself that this is life, and life is suffering.

Sometimes I wish I could stop time so that neither pain nor happiness exist,

and I could just be in the moment, in nothingness.

Home is wherever I'm with you, D