Maybe the feeling of lost is like being a brand new sock being put into a washing machine for the first time, and then trying to find its partner when it’s being separated beneath a jumbled pile of three week’s worth of clean laundry.
From a human’s perspective, while a mountain of laundry is somewhat a chore, nobody would think of it as a significant obstacle. Once we decided that we should stop procrastinating… We could probably finish ironing and folding them in a few hours, and everything would be neat again.
And yet I imagine… that the sock must have been feeling utterly lost. Because it’s being hauled away from its partner and the environment it’s used to (because it actually spent most of its live being folded together in the store). And even though this is actually for a good, and perhaps better purpose than being an unwashed and unwanted old sock in the store gathering dust… this might still be a considered pretty tough experience… for a sock.
I know this illustration is not exactly an elegant way of putting these thoughts into words. (This thought just occurred to me as I was doing my laundry).
But when I contemplate on the feeling of being stranded and lost as I try to adjust in a new environment here in Jakarta, I was struck with this funny realization: maybe I’m just like this sock right here.
Because really, in the bigger perspective… this is probably a very small thing to be worried about.
I feel that I have been stranded in this pile of laundry for about three months now. I miss Singapore. Not only the country per say, but everything within it. Even the smallest, most random memories became significant when you’re looking at it through a quiet, rose tinted glass.
I sometimes think of these memories as autumn’s falling leaves. Bright, beautiful, and yet so transient. And just before the wind blows away the last traces of warmth… I found myself grasping for memories to hold on to.
I know that I should have moved forward. But I still longed for them. It’s like the being trapped in feeling of homesickness, and yet knowing that the home I belonged to doesn’t exist anymore. Everyone I knew seems to go on with his or her own lives over there. And thinking about it this way, it’s tempting to feel as if I have been left behind.
For the past few weeks, I was trying to recalibrate myself. Like an old watch, suddenly forced to adapt into a different time zone.
But of course, I was nowhere as adaptable as my watch. I was still thankful. And I was still be able to smile. But for weeks, I felt like I was trying to figure out who I was, all over again. Trying to find the pace that I could adjust to, and figuring out my rightful place.
But I guess, now, I finally stopped feeling sorry for myself.
Yes, truthfully, I’m still being in the middle of that journey. I’m still adjusting my perspectives, little by little. But at least, I don’t feel so lost anymore. Unlike the sock, I now have the quiet assurance that in time, I would finally be able to truly click into this new world.
Because I suppose, autumn too, will pass away, to make way to winter, before a spring would appear and make new moments bloom again.
//Autumn Leaves, watercolor painting.