A Letter for the Future

Dear my children..

Honestly, this is pretty cringey. Forgive me, I don’t even know when will I meet you, or can I have you.

First, thank you for being born. I might not be what you want to claim about best mom, but I’m trying my best for you. We cannot be the richest or happiest family, but we can be comfortable with each other. I want you to feel like home when you are home, not just a place where you have to go back after school.

How old are you guys now? Fifteen? Seventeen? Or nearly my age when I type this letter?

I apologize if I’m being protective, while my own parents, or your grandparents, were never being protective over me and your uncle. I’m a wrench inside, I’m scarred of losing people that I love. It makes sense that I always try to push people around me. I do not want to be attached. I did feel hurt, once, and I never want to feel it again. It was annoying and depressing. I was like a hindrance for everyone around me that time; my family, my classmates, my middle school friends. Pretty embarrassing to remember that but it taught me a lot of things.

You, darling, you will feel it too. You will find someone that make your existence meaningful, you’ll see the world brighter. You will smile a lot, being everybody’s best friends. You’re going to greet each of your friends good morning when you wake up and bid them good night when you’re on bed. You’re talking to people, to the world, to the universe with your sparkling eyes and mouth that keep humming love songs. You’ll smell like flowers. You create your own highlighter and blush that will make every make up company envy you because you are effortlessly beautiful. You’ll chant their name, his name, her name, every god damn time, every breathe, like they are your spell, your magic to live.

You’ll see them differently, like they’re the one who save you from the last apocalypse. I may be upset with you, because you are keep daydreaming on dinner and grinning at your phone screen. You won’t be home on Saturday night and you’ll make any excuse to see your loved one. It’s okay, I won’t forbid you. You’re allowed to be with the one you like, you love, you treasure.

But then, the storm come. At first, you don’t notice it. You’ll attend school as usual. You’re still smiling, laughing and joking. You still text your friends and hang out with them. You  still mention his name, her name. Yet one day you come home with puffy eyes then lock yourself behind your door. You come out just for meal. Even I have to force you to eat your meals. You stop watching television with me. You cut your ties with your middle school friends. When I thought you are alright, you burst out in school, in front of your classmates, who surprised about your sudden tears. You can’t keep with the lessons, starring at the wall like it would talk to you, like it would tell you that everything will be alright. No, you hate it when people tell you that. You push them away because they keep telling you things you already know. You just want him, her, back to your life like what they used to. You want things like what already were.You go to his school, wanting some explanation but you did thing you hate the most. Crying in front of him, showing him that you are vulnerable to destroy, exposing him that he already step on your pride. Then you see his face, you meet your eyes with his and you know. Everything changed.

Dear, I’m not telling you my story but I know one day you’ll face it. When you did, please remember you still have me. You can talk to me. I won’t judge you. I will let you cry, depressed, curse his name in your sleep. Then I will pull you to life. Tell you that you can’t let him see your wrecking side. You have to go up. Life is harder that breaking up. It’s tough. But with your first heartache, you will understand. You know the pain and life is much more rougher than that. You will get up, you will study harder. You’ll make me proud.

I can give you freedom as much as you like. I’ll give you privacy like what you deserve. You can ask me money anytime,  no matter how big the amount. I will give you, under one circumstance. You have to study and the money goes for your education. Remember, only education that matter when you died, beside prayer and good deeds. It’s good if you have band that you like or hobby or passion. But my dear, I’m sorry to say that you have to work your ass off to afford band’s concert ticket or a figurine.I won’t give you any money beside your allowance. Your hardwork wont fail you. Don’t be like me when I type this letter, please. You have to be better than me.

Please tell me when you read this, did I really do what I want to do for you? Did you go to pray for your own needs, not because I told you to pray or because you want luxury afterlife in Heaven? Dear, if you did so, please punish me. I don’t want you to be me, or some people, who pray just because it is a must, not because they need it. I’m learning it now. I want you to know your God, to interact with Him, because you need it. Not because you want some reward or Heaven. Let’s think it as a bonus.

Do you remember the thing that I always tell you since you’re little? Be good to anybody. To universe. You’ll be happy for that. Be someone who’ll give good influence to people around you. Do what you think it’s good for you and don’t forget the people in your surrounding. Don’t even think about reward. Their happiness is your only reward. Live with that motto, kid.

So, here. I’m going to finish this letter. So awkward. Yes. Your mom is the most awkward thing on earth. Am I still like that? I hope not.


Your 20-going-21 years old mom who still figuring herself

June 13, 2016. 00:06 GMT +7


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s