I went through my own day ... With a burlap sack in my left hand and a garbage pincer in my right hand.
For a moment I stopped, under the bridge I now occupy. I see around me, many of my peers are ngelem under the bridge. Want me to come, but my heart fight. For a moment I looked down and wondered how my mother could leave me alone, with my stooped grandmother who could only stay at home.
My tears collided, as if jumping away, who first landed. 'Mother', I hate to hear that word.
I stood up again with alacrity. I swung my legs, walking for sure though I did not know where to go. I went through all the streets of Jakarta, looked up, and begged. After that, I collect plastic garbage that I can sell. Looking for leftover food in every garbage can. To fill my stomach that has been keroncongan since last.
I want to cry, but I know, my cry will not bear anything. I always try to be strong in the midst of my sad life drama.
From time to time I searched the beach, I sat alone in the middle as everyone was cool looking. My tears dripped on my own, I wiped away with my shabby clothes, but fell again.
If I had never heard that a suicide would go to hell, I would have done it from afar. I always try not to despair. But how else? Until when am I like this? I asked silently.
I'm 17 years old, but no brother wants to send me to school because the economic situation is also minimal. However, I'm sure God has a wonderful plan for me. Although no mother in my every day, but I have a God extraordinary dasyat.
I stood up and followed my steps lightly on the sand. As if I live happily, I can still smile to see other people who are happy. Every now and then I look back and see everyone, and I realize, I'm not alone ...
I saw two pairs of footprints behind. I assured myself that the pair of footprints were my footprints. And another pair is God's footsteps that follow me ...
