Across the ocean

The flicker of street lights. My gentle weep. That night I knew things would change, and I had no control over any of it.

It was the 5th grade, my father’s words echoed in my mind—the amount of anger, the amount of sadness. Emotion devoured us. I didn't get much sleep that night because that sentence was like a siren.

“We’re moving to Indonesia.”

We were going to move across the world. What was I supposed to do? I never moved schools, not even houses. How could I deal with moving across the ocean to my mother’s home country in Asia?

Things didn't come into play until years later. They said they'd wait until I graduated grade school. And I dreaded it. It felt like the worse idea in the world. Everything I had known, all my friends and my hometown. All those memories? They'd disappear.

Every thought felt like a bullet. It kept me up at night, and I spiraled. I had no say, I couldn't change anything, and my emotions didn't matter.

So I toughed it up, and I prepared myself for the months ahead. The countdown seeped in, but I braced myself.

Until things got postponed, my mother got into an accident and broke her leg a few months before moving. Her healing was slow, and our plans got pushed back. I was ready, but now I didn't know what was happening.

I felt as if my friends thought I was lying. Like I was saying things for attention. Nothing was happening, as I said, and it was embarrassing.

Then I started high school, but I didn’t try to keep friendships. “I’m moving, so why should I care? I’m leaving their lives anyways,”. That time was hard because everyone was so different. I felt like my mental health was declining, and I couldn’t handle it.

When the 2nd semester of grade 9 came along, the shipping containers appeared. And I said most of my goodbyes. And it was time.

We flew for hours, and my mind flew too.

What if I don’t get along with anyone? Will I be judged? Why does it have to be me? What if I can’t speak the language? Who will I become?

My heart ached. I felt as if the second I moved, I left behind who I was.

We traveled for a while, and we met new countries and new people. It was fun, and it didn’t seem that bad.

And then we arrived, and I realized that we were not on vacation. This was my life now.

I didn’t start school for a month. I avoided it, and my parents were settling in, so they couldn’t focus on what I was doing.

On the day of the interview, I met my principal, who, shockingly enough, was from the same small town as me. It is a small world. I toured around the school and met many people. Some of whom would be my classmates, others who would become my friends.

I already had plans that weekend with twins from America, they were friendly, and we watched a film at the mall. I was only friends with them for a few weeks, my classmates warned me about them being the ‘mean girls’ of the school, so I stayed away. Lucky for me, I avoided drama just in time.

As for school, it was awkward at first. I have always been a shy person, and I never really knew how to socialize. A lot of the class had their groups already, and I was just there.

On the first day of school, I was forced into the newspaper club, which was strange. Nothing became of it, but I did become friends with a lovely Danish girl. We had hung out a few times, and I met her guy friends.

They were friendly, but there was one boy that stuck out in particular. I found him mysterious like I wanted to know more. He was tall and handsome. He was also half Dutch; my ancestors would probably get mad at me.

I was too shy, so I just let it be.

That summer, the danish girl moved back to Denmark. It was sad because we had only just become friends and I wanted to know her better. Since then, we’ve grown apart, but her kindness is forever in my heart.

In the following years, I stuck around to this one girl who didn’t have many friends. I related to her, we were open to each other, and we didn’t need to overthink what we said. We were like two peas in a pod, most of the time.

I often told her about that tall, handsome boy. She didn’t mind that I talked about him, and she supported me. I was a hopeless romantic, I was too scared to speak to him, but I couldn’t move on.

2nd the semester of grade 10, a Malaysian girl moved into our class. For her first few weeks, she stuck with my other friend and me. It felt like heartbreak when she moved to another group in our class. I had gotten along with her well, but she left.

The Malaysian girl and I often had free time during school together. It felt awkward, but she was there for me. I could talk about my problems like wanting to move back home, family or friendship problems, and she would give the best advice. We often joked that she was my therapist. She could tell something was wrong with me before I even said anything.

One time she asked me, “What do you want to accomplish before you graduate?”.

I replied, “I want to be close to everyone in our class.” And she gave me the confidence that I could.

But I still felt hurt by what happened between us. I never hung out with her outside of school. But a few days after New Year in grade 11, she invited me out to a cafe. One on one. And we talked for hours, and we talked it out between us. And things felt so good.

With things getting better with my Malay friend, between my other friend and me got hard. We would fight all the time, and at this point, there were more problems than solutions. I would try to talk things out, and I thought things were fine after, but they weren’t.

And I was still hopeless for that tall guy. Three years and I couldn’t move on?

So I confessed.

And I got rejected. Kind of?

Despite the rejection, I was so happy that it was over. Months later, I hung out with my Malaysian friend and my classmates almost every day. Those moments were some of the best.

I also got into a relationship—a toxic one. I don’t recommend it—the worst three weeks of my life.

And I told myself: “enough love, time to focus on myself. I’m happy and don’t need a man”.

But then who texts me a week after my break up? Tall, handsome dutch boy.

A few months later, we started dating, and we’ve been together since.

Grade 12 went by quickly. I was at my highest. I had great friends, was making more, and I got with the boy I wanted most. Things were looking so good.

And then corona happened.

It was tough not seeing my friends, but I’ve had a lot of growth since. I graduated and decided to take a gap year.

During that time, I cut off that one friend. Even though she was there for me for years, things just got too hard, and it hurt, but it’s what needed to happen. Nothing good became of it as for me and that Malaysian girl, she’s like my best friend. We still talk every day despite her moving back home.

During the pandemic, I reflected a lot, thinking about how all of high school was. All of the ups and the downs. Initially, it was so hard, and I was friends with the wrong people, thinking they were right. I didn’t perform well in school, but I did get better over time. In grade 12, my grades were the highest.

I’m glad that things were exactly the way it was, I really wouldn’t change a thing. I thought that moving would be the worst thing that could happen to me. But I think it would be awful if I were still the person I was before I moved.

I’m proud of the progress I’ve made.

And it’s crazy because as I write this, I’m back in my hometown. I’ve been studying at the university. I hang out with my childhood friends all the time. They’re super sweet, and we get along fantastic. And I still talk to all my friends across the world.

I once thought, “What’s the point of keeping friendships if I’m going to move away?”. But the thing is, they still exist in the world. I can still see them again, even if it’s not in Indonesia. I have friendships all over the world now. And I am so grateful.