[Memoir] Childhood, Friendship.

Fitrianty Nur Toharja

HATED

Eight years ago, I found myself chaotic; convoluted, confused, panic, nervous, fearful, anxious, worried, trembling and lonely.

Eight years ago was the day I was waiting for. Being a new student in a new school, my first junior high school in a new town. Previously, when I was in elementary school, I used to move to one city to another, enrolled a different school about once a years. I didn’t know why but living not with my own parents feels pathetic. I didn’t know how being in kindergarten feels like, my first day of school was elementary school. Five years old of me created the first day of school not with my mom, she was my aunty. I feel tragic not having childhood memory with my own parents but then, eight years ago, I did it.

Eight years ago was the day of my happiness, my little family were together, in our own house. I can’t describe how I felt then, I just couldn’t stop smiling, I could finally see their face, every day, every night, every time. I could finally hear their sounds not only through the phone again. I could finally feeling like in a real home. I could finally say a word mom, and dad, like other children did.

Eight years ago was the day of my junior high school time, my father gave me a new mobile phone to me because I got the 3rd place last year in my elementary school, even though the phone wasn’t costs too much, I was glade that my father gave me that because what I have done. Therefore, I tried my best to do everything, my parents were my aim in my life, and I do everything for them.

Eight years ago I made a friend with a female student in my class, she named Leni. She is Sudanese and a quiet person. Unlike me, she was like sitting in her chair, writing what the teacher have written in a white board, read a language books, and certainly being quiet. The reason why I like her because she always listened every single story what I told, she responded them well, answered all the questions that I asked. I like her, I like her more than I like my favorite color.

Eight years ago I became closer with Leni. She started tell me about herself a bit more instead of I keep started our conversation. She told me about her family, father, mother, her little sister and her close friends. Day by day she always told me too about her closest friend I thought, because every time she told me about her friendship life, she used to talk about one friend, she was a girl, she is Ida. The girl in the same neighborhood, the girl in the same elementary school with her, the girl in the same Taekwondo course with her, the girl that I wanted to be friend with too.

Eight years ago Leni introduced Ida to me, it was my very first time when I came to Leni’s house after school done. The time I was in Leni’s room, her closest friend, Ida was came up to Leni’s house to informed Leni something about Taekwondo course. For the first time, I was introduced to Ida by Leni. She is pretty, having a long black hair just like Leni and like her bright brown eyes. Because it was a very first day of our meet, we didn’t talk much about each other, Furthermore, she was leaving Leni’s house earlier, she didn’t take a sip of the water tough, and I thought she was in a hurry.

Eight years ago I became closer too with Ida, Leni gave me her number, we used to texting to each other. Whenever Ida and Leni had a fight and didn’t talk to each other, I helped them to make it up, talked to Leni and Texting Ida. We lived separately, I was the one who lived far away from them so I could only contact Ida in texting and seeing Leni in the school. Actually I wanted to see Ida more often and played with her but distance was a bariier between us. Yet, the idea came to our friendship, I forgot who suggested first, but we started to send a letter to each other, Ida and Me. I thought it would be fun enough instead of texting, I didn’t know how I agreed the idea and started writing the letter.

Eight years ago Leni was the person who sent us -Ida and me- a letter. The letter told us about everything and anything, we told each other about foods, movies, songs, cartoons, feelings, homework, school, even if about the worst and the best teacher or the students in our schools. It was fun, I used to write her a letter every night before tomorrow school I sent it through Leni.

Eight years ago Leni brought me a letter from Ida, it was about her school. I was curious, because we enrolled the different school, the day before I sent her a letter and asked her to write about her school. The letter told me that her school didn’t big enough just like mine, placed in a village, her school was more narrow than other school, the building was old and had some cracks in every corner of the structure. I felt bad and sorry for her, I wrote her and asked her to tell her school before. I replied her –letter with – full of joke- letter. I wrote her a –funny- letter, I was make the schools as a joke, and I fooled around about my school and her’s. I told her why my school could bigger than her, why her school was small just like a room, and how can the building cracked around just like old house in the movie. I was joking around in the letter, I wanted her don’t feel bad and sad, I wanted her to smile if she read my letter.

Eight years ago I came to the school. I walked to the class with my brightest smile, knowing that how happy Ida would be because of what I have written to her. Leni sat in her chair reading some materials for that day’s subject, she was quite like always. I came to her and asked a letter from Ida, but she just told me that Ida didn’t sent me a letter. It was a little bit sad but, it didn’t matter, my letter just sent to her yesterday though. The morning class was like usual, religion class started the subjects of that day. The teacher was teach the class about some prophets hadists, we should wrote them in our paper and memorized it. The class was a bit noisy, some students learn the hadists by said aloud them repeatedly, furthermore some students were memorized them by a help from a gesture movement, their hands were raise up, their fingers were pointed out, or even some of them squeezed their own hand forced every single hadist in their brain. In the noisy air, a teacher came to the class, he was student ministry teacher in our school. He was also a sport teacher, muscles all around his body, his face expression were make us sit still.

Eight years ago I thought my death would come in that day. Eight years ago I felt I would never back to my house from the school. Eight years ago I was fool. Eight years ago I wanted to kill myself in the first year of junior high school. Eight years ago I wanted to cry all night long knowing how stupid I was. Eight years ago I first time was called by the most frightful teacher in the school. Eight years ago I did my biggest mistake.

Eight years ago I am having my biggest problem. I was told by the teacher that my letter was in counselor room’s Ida’s school. The first information, one sentence from a bad news. I thought about it and realized that the letter was from me for Ida and the worst was my letter told about our schools. My teacher said I had to go to Ida’s school to apologize. My teacher said it was my fault. My teacher said he was not able to believe in me anymore. My teacher said how can I be a rush student. My teacher said I must to go to her school immediately. My teacher said I should go to her school to explain about the letter. My teacher said it was my fault, I should go there, explained it and clear the problem alone.

Eight years ago I was confused. Eight years ago I didn’t know how to fix it. Eight years ago I almost gave up. Eight years ago I didn’t want have anyone to talk to. Eight years ago I was afraid. Eight years ago I trembled. Eight years ago I cried alone. Eight years ago I couldn’t feel hunger. Eight years ago I didn’t know how to do anything. Eight years ago I felt anxious all the time. Eight years ago I couldn’t stop pondering. Eight years ago I hide everything. Eight years ago I didn’t tell my parents anything. Eight years ago I lied to my parents. Eight years ago I had to decide something big in my life.

Eight years ago I feel ashamed from other friends. They talked bad about me, they talked it around me, and they talked about everything that I have done. They have known it, the news was rapidly spread from one student to another, ear to ear, and mouth to mouth.

Eight years ago I was confused, angry, and afraid of everything. I am a thoughtful person. How came my letter was being a mistake, it was just a joke, how would my letter changed my school live, it was just a paper, how could my letter being a serious problem with school didn’t Ida told her teacher? That day, the day Ida received my letter she read it and place my letter in her bag, she wanted to reply it during her school tomorrow. Unfortunately, the next day was the investigation day in her school. Her school found out the other male students were smoking cigarettes in the cafeteria, so they went to investigation to all of students if they brought any cigarettes in the school. Not like expected, my letter in Ida’s bag was being saved by them.

Eight years ago I came to the school which I had problem with. My fear accompanied me then. It was a shiny day on Friday, but I didn’t feel it, I felt like I walked along a storm day. I purposely absent for my class and came to Ida’s school. I came there by Ojek. I came to her school, it looked like what Ida said in the letter. I came in and find out where the counselor’s room. Before I found by myself, I met the female teacher in yoga dressed, her name tag named Ani. She asked me, where would I come to, I asked about counselor room and she walked show me a way. In front of the room she asked me what my name is, and I replied with my full name. I hoped it wasn’t her, I hoped I couldn’t meet a counselor teacher to apologize. I just hoped and prayed. Fortunately, it was her. She was the teacher that have read my letter, the letter which ‘discrediting’ her school, she was in front of the writer of the letter.

Eight years ago I first time came to the counselor’s room of other school, I felt like I am a bad student. Sitting in the chair of other school’s counselor room made me feel like I am the one who did a bad thing such as fighting other students until they died or being in a brawl in the uniform with rocks and knife in my hand. I didn’t know if my parent have known this problem, I couldn’t imagine how ashamed them having me as their daughter. I ashamed for real.

Eight years ago I first time signed a letter. The different letter that I usually wrote or received from Ida. Signed an admission letter. The admission letter that I would never be in the bad case again, never criticized other school again, and being a better student in the next next day. Eight years ago I first time being advised by other teacher because of a bad attitude of me. Facing the other teacher from the other school.

Eight years ago I couldn’t thinking about them, Leni or Ida. I hated them. After the day I have come to her school I found myself was the one who have fault in that problem. I was the one who sent Ida a discrediting her school letter. I was the one who had to give apologize to them, the teacher, and the school. I couldn’t find Ida’s letter about her feelings and about her school, I couldn’t find it for being my evidence. My mom have thrown away it. She told me that it didn’t matter if I keep for a long time. I was dazed, puzzled, panicked.

Eight years ago Ida didn’t sent me a letter or even a text. Leni didn’t much closer to me like before. There was a brief between us. Other friends were keep saying a bad things to each other about me. I felt like I was in a wrong side for them. I felt like I was abandoned by them. I was sick.

Since then I hated them. Since then I hated my friends. Since then I hated my teachers. Since then I hated school. Since then I hated Friendship and I hated writing.

References:

https://www.creativenonfiction.org/online-reading/age-formative

https://www.creativenonfiction.org/online-reading/same-story

Words count: 2313

Leave a Comment

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 )

Twitter picture

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

Facebook photo

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

Google+ photo

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

Connecting to %s