A day before New Year’s Eve:
the most overwhelming year I have yet to endure, after a very painfully disheartening set of years, is about the end tomorrow. Let’s hope Zee can live through 2018 with all the people she loves, through all the things that will happen: events heavy in knowledge and experience, events exciting and hopeful, and events full of love and kindness.
2018, please be kind, but more importantly, be exciting and rich of knowledge.
This morning I woke up early and decided to sleep in. After what felt like minutes of wonderful dreams, I woke up, realised that it was almost 10a.m., then finally, gathered enough courage to shove my blanket away so that I could go on about with my day. It’s been a few days already since I turned down a hang out offer this week, or to put it in better words, slept through a hang out offer, and I’m feeling more accomplished than ever. Accomplished that I had decided to stay in my room to give my mind and body time to rest and unwind, just before the storm comes.
Now it’s the noon of Saturday the 13th and I wanted to write. Mainly because I have successfully convinced my dad to continue my domain’s annual subscription, but also because I have things to write about that I would like you to know. And one of them has to be the silly accident I got in while I was on my way to campus.
It was Tuesday, and our first Business Statistics auditorium session starts at 8:00, which was in favour for all of us SBM students because we always had lessons start at 7:00 back then. Anyhow, I was walking down the stairs when my ordered driver (Gojek) called me, telling me that he’s arrived to pick me up. When I walked outside of my boarding house, I saw two drivers waiting. I approached the one nearest to me and asked if he was picking up a “Zee”. He uttered a name that sounded muffled, but he nodded when I asked if it was for me, “Zee”, so I got on the seat and we were off.
Just after about two minutes of riding this Go-ride, I received a call from an anonymous number which I, out of habit, declined. But then I saw two texts from my supposed driver telling me that he’s arrived since forever and has been waiting for quiet some time now… When I read that, I had a mini panic shudder and told the driver I was with that he got the wrong customer. Upon hearing this, he immediately made a u-turn and rushed back to my place to fetch his actual customer.
I could already tell by the speed that he was driving in that he was anxious of being late to pick whoever-it-was up, and I felt like I was in the wrong for carelessly getting on his motorbike when it was “clearly” not my ride. You see, the road in my particular neighbourhood *cough* Dago Asri 3 *cough* is pretty much in ruins and so it was nervewrecking that this driver intensely drove through all that without much attention. Even when a speed bump emerged (well not literally, it’s been there all the time) right in front of us, he sped through that!
Consequently, we both jumped off our seats, but the driver was in safe hands because he had his weight back to the motorbike as he was holding onto it. I, on the other hand, didn’t. And so I was bounced off the seat, thrown into the air, and tossed onto the asphalt road where my body scraped the ground and my helmet was snapped away from my head. For a few seconds it took awhile for me to absorb what just happened, my sight was spinning beyond control. I looked at my bag that was now on the ground a few feet away from me and the first thing that I immediately worried about was my laptop inside.
Funnily enough, this happened just two/three houses away from my place, and there were several passerby staring at the incident. When the driver looked at what just happened, he dropped his motorbike and helped me stand up. I grabbed my bag, stroked my head, and thought of Bagas (my dearest friend who passed away from a motorbike accident more than a year ago).
This is the conversation that follows as he grabbed my arm, supporting me to stand up (shortened and translated):
Panicked Driver:“My goodness, I am terribly sorry. Are you okay miss?”
Lunatic who thinks she’s perfectly fine:“Yeah I’m fine haha, don’t worry.”
Worried Driver:“Are you sure? Let me bring you to a clinic right now to get that checked.”
Lunatic who still thinks she’s perfectly fine:“What? No, I’m fine.”
Puzzled Driver:“I can’t let you do that, I have to bring you to a clinic.”
Lunatic who still, even though the driver has pointed out the stain left on her jeans, thinks she’s perfectly fine:“I can’t go, I have a class to attend.”
And that was it. I was too stubborn to attend this class, so I assured the driver that it was fine, that I was left unharmed, and that I have to go.
When I was finally on my way to campus with my actual driver though, was when the pain started kicking in. I felt a sore wound on my left arm and on the lower part of my back, along with an incredibly throbbing set of headaches that forced me to endure it with a helmet on as I gritted my teeth. Apart from that, I worried about how I had looked. I honestly thought I looked great before the accident, but after being thrown like that, I was sure that I looked messed up to some degree. And I was probably right.
This is the part that somewhat broke my heart.
When the realisation of how much my body was in pain finally dawned on me, I arrived in campus wanting to hug someone and just cry because of how much it had hurt. But I can’t do that because there was a crowd by the auditorium and… I didn’t really have anyone I could hug. Besides, I didn’t want to make a fool out of myself so I rushed to the toilet to have a look at wounds instead.
Indeed, it was true. I had a bleeding, scratched, wound on my left arm by the elbow, some scratches that was also bleeding on the lower part of my back, and several bruises on my legs: one mighty on the centre of my left thigh. I frowned at them, and simply kept them hidden beneath my clothes because I didn’t know what else to do. I then walked into the auditorium and sat next to my classmates.
When I announced to my group of friends of what just happened through chat, they made it clear that my current condition was in no way that worrisome and that I should just go get myself checked right then and there. Of course, I didn’t want to go alone. I mean, I was still shaking and my heart was still pounding relentlessly from the accident. It doesn’t take a genius to understand that I needed someone to accompany me to go there. Naturally, I would expect at least one of them to volunteer to help. But none of that came even as the lecture passed by. They acted as if falling off a motorbike and getting wounds were the most natural thing for someone to do before going to campus. But, I’ll admit, it was partially my fault. I didn’t fall a little harder & I didn’t have wounds that were a little more visible. Maybe if I did, they would actually start to care. But that is a very childish way of thinking. The truth is I just have to deal with the reality that this is college here that I’m attending, that I cannot expect anything towards other people who essentially do not care about me. It’s a shame that things are like this but there’s nothing I could do about it.
So in the end, I had to ask a friend to assist me in finding my way to Bumi Medika Ganesha, which is a campus owned clinic. Along the way, I told her about this and she had conceded to me that it was true. What my dad told me after I informed him about this too, was that this incident showed me who amongst my friends were true to me in good nature. Although I was left feeling a slight disgust with the reality of what I experienced, and although it had an effect on me that I shall now be more careful with who I choose to entrust my vulnerabilities to, it encouraged me to appreciate my friends more and accompany them, and help them, when they are in need without having them ask me first (because I surely would have appreciated that). This is simply a way for me to see if they are right for me, that if I finally become a better friend, would they become a better friend too? And once I learn that they are not, I would at least then know who to leave.
It’s funny how I’m so outspoken about such an emotional tragedy. I suppose this could be justified by allowing you to understand that I rarely feel raw and strong emotions anymore that the moment that I do, I find them as intriguing materials to write about and give to you. Besides, writing like this in itself is a form of catharsis for me. So I hope you have found this mini journal entry to be profoundly worthwhile, the way I have, as I was writing it down for you.