Page 55: Lost And Found

Sunday. 11 AM. While lot of people still curled on their bed and probably think they should spend the rest of the day at home before come back to their routines on Monday, I took the same path I had the night before on that mall. I headed to the same room, where I report my loss; my wallet, money, and everything stuffed in it. I was facing the same faces I had the night before, with some addition. New faces questioned me, similar questions I had the night before. After that, we went to the “crime scene”, and yeah, CCTV wasn’t at the right angle to capture the face that took my wallet. My “abandoned” wallet. I thanked the officers, and left.

I feed myself a sandwich. I look around, and recognized some faces: those office boys.

The devil inside of me whispered, “It must be one of them that took your wallet.” Glad I still hear another voice came afterward, “but it could be anyone. And that ‘anyone’ probably needs that amount of money more than you do.” Well, it’s my fault anyway… Although I can’t deny that, o dear Chomsky, I need that worthy papers to pay some bills *ha-ha*. I shook my head, take a deep breath. I try to let everything go.

Back home at night, my family demands the story in chronological order. I felt like a broken tape, playing the same song with tired melody and a touch of humor. When tragedy hit right at your face, “bam!” what could be more relieving than pour a comedy on top of it, embrace and laughing about it, right? *grinning*

10 PM and I’ve planned to go to sleep earlier than I used to. I texted my best friend, “this is a tiresome and quite devastating month. I’ve lost hope on something, lost hope on someone, and now lost my money. But at least I still have my bed to rest my head :)”

I continue reading Bad Men by John Connolly. A book with scary and dark story, but possess shrewd and agile narration. God bless him.

I turn off the light; close my eyes, ready to go to wonderland…

…But there’s no wonderland. I’ve lost the key to open the door. Or I might forget which road that leads onto. I had nightmare instead. I was lost in hazy and dark forest, just like the one in Bad Men’s Cover. I lost all of my stuff. So I walked, tried to find the way out. And I succeeded. And I found him, my dear nothing, stood at the lakeside. He asked me to follow him to jump to the boat. But I failed, plunge myself into the water. Something drags me to the bottom. He couldn’t reach me. I couldn’t reach the surface. I was drowning. Start to suffocate.

And I woke up, back in my room. There’s no water around, only sweats on my forehead. I turn on the light and breathing as if I just had a marathon race. It was 3 AM, Monday, obviously. It must be the book, and my subconscious that caused the nightmare. My aunt once said to me that when we lost something, we’ll find something too. What goes around comes around. And I believe that. But after that terrifying dream, all I could think of about “lost and found” was some phrase in Chuck Palahniuk’s Fight Club, "I let go. Lost in oblivion. Dark and silent and complete. I found freedom. Losing all hope was freedom. "

Yeah, I’d taste what he meant by “freedom” for a while. Losing all hope. Ingenue. Somehow, It helped me to go back to sleep, with no nightmare. *I kept the light on, though :p *

Second woke up that morning, a thought filled my head, that all of those lost perhaps were just some kind of soft demolition so I can do introspection, see everything more clearly about myself. Found the stronger me. What doesn’t kill you make you stronger, eh, Nietzsche? And stronger means that you’re getting used to accepting pain…

And deal with it.

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Bruno Nicolai – Servizio Fotografico