The Art of Coexisting in Jakarta

I’ve lived in Jakarta long enough to have a say about it. I’ve had my love-and-hate relationship with the city and its people.

Maybe it’s the middle child in me. I’m not talking about centering myself or being self-centered — or even a ‘centrist’. (Whatever the hell that means.) Well, how do I put this exactly?

Hmm, maybe it’s been my fate all along. I mean, I’m in the middle — between my older sister and younger brother. I’ve sort of been expected to keep the peace — to be “the good, quiet girl” who doesn’t ask a lot. (It’s even better if I don’t ask for anything at all.)

If I start asking just for a little bit of attention from them, it usually feels more like chaos against order. No, that’s not “normal”. I’m not supposed to be like that. I’m supposed to be able to take almost anything they might throw at me — whether they intend to hurt me with it or not. Don’t complain. Shut up. I make too much noise.

I’ve started developing the art of coexisting since then. Maybe, that’s also why I’ve never liked being in the same schools as my sister did. They didn’t know (or perhaps they didn’t care) the damage they’d caused in my relationship with my sister. I mean, wouldn’t you feel sick to death already if people kept telling you how your sister was always prettier/smarter than you and that you had to be exactly just like her — to be admired? It doesn’t matter if she’s nice or mean to you.

Ms. Hyper-Independent?

I’ve lived alone for a few good years after Dad’s funeral. Recently, I’ve moved back to be with my family, due to financial issues. I don’t feel necessary to spill the details here, though.

Honestly, I’m still processing these quite radical changes. I know this isn’t the world’s greatest problem. Still, it isn’t easy for me.

I’ve been accused of being arrogant and acting as if I don’t need anybody else in my life. I’m not going to mention who, because it doesn’t matter anymore. When people have already made up their minds about me and have no emotional capacity nor willingness to listen to my side of story, then I won’t even bother.

Let them all believe what they like about me.

Honestly, I’m glad I’ve tried living alone — even for quite some time. I know what works for me and not. I know how not to rely on other people all the time. Because of this, I’ve learned not to take people and everything for granted. Why? I’ve already experienced the real-life simulation. I’m preparing myself, just in case my own family is too busy for me next time (or worse, they die too — like Dad), just in case all my good friends or anyone can’t always be there for me, and just in case I have to rely on the kindness of strangers …

… or what’s left of me …

I’ve just wanted to avoid too much disappointment from expecting too much from other people. Is that arrogance? Like, seriously?

Bibi