Story of stories.

When I was in Sarawak, I was oddly passionate to go to Kuching. It was fairly unbelievable that I would step my feet there for at least once a month.

 And this is only story out of stories I ever experienced.

It was early of the year and I cried over the phone telling my mom I won’t be home at that moment. Things got messed up and I stayed in my room clinching my knees on the bed, in tears. Life got hard. I could barely get myself together. Then I packed my necessary stuffs, requested Uber and went to Kuching unplanned. My mind was blank and kept buzzing with sad thoughts so I wanted to clear it off. It was time I stayed there for days and roamed around to see few places I’ve never reached beforehand. These memories are as crystal clear as my pair of glasses and more vivid than the memories with my friends at the same exact place last November.

Kuching is absolutely breath-taking, as far I can remember. Paying bucks just to get there was truly a thing and I didn’t mind to spend my money on the unnamed vacation. I don’t remember when the very first time I’ve been there was but I pretty am sure of one thing—I went there for numbers of time. The flowers blooming in the middle of the hustle bustle city and the humidity of the town were things I always wanted to comfort myself with. The people, least of all, are kind and helpful. They, who are unknown and strangers, lent hands and were being generous. Their generosity will forever be carved in my memories. I couldn’t thank more. The roads, rather than intimidating sometimes, were filled with passers-by who willingly answered inquiries and explained the road map to me.

That was time I explored the hidden gems I’ve never seen. My feet were in pain but my heart was in satisfaction. The hills that I climbed on were actually the peaks where the whole town can be seen. Every lane that I walked through was collections of journey of my life. All of it was worth my perspiration.

There is a lot more to tell. The memories were actually specific and detailed but I chose to keep it within myself. The names of people who helped me to go through my gloomy days, the places I went on occasion where I felt at home, the memories we shared and the sensations that left me noted that I truly belong there—all of it is in my little heart.

To be in Kuching, I learnt things myself. Alone. I profoundly knew on how hard life could ever be. Always bear in mind, someone somewhere is thrilled with her day as we do. Someone somewhere out there is clenching her teeth, waiting for the day of her death after losing all her hopes. We all live in different form of living but in the same, fatal world. The light we need in our tiny hearts—faith.

Ever since, I was comfortable to go there all alone. It was—and always is a place of my escapism.
It’s 2:00. I need to pen down and go to sleep. Buh-bye.