The Love of the Poet
Episode 7's
The Seventh Part
The Love of the Poet
The confirmation finally happened. I've been baptized the Editor-in-Chief of the Children's Tabloid
it was named Galaxies. I don't know what the meaning of the name is, which gives him Hamid
Utomo aka Beib the funder. With this confirmation, I automatically
had to leave the adult tabloid that had been where I netted
science and expressing what I feel and experience into writing.
In that adult tabloid, I was originally myself and the same as
what I aspired to since my teenage years, now I have to bury my happiness
and my identity.
Being the Editor-in-Chief of the Children's Tabloid, I was like I was on a long road that wasn't
culminate. Sometimes I feel dazed how to act, while I
I have no experience with children. As I have already kneeled, as,
if I refuse then many friends will lose their livelihood. By reason of
in the world of mass media, competition is fast and fierce. And with investors
on a children's tabloid, then she can be a helper if the tabloids are adult
regressing or falling down. According to Mas Heri, my Editor-in-Chief,
the market share for child tabloids is good and the targeted ones are not just child readers,
but also their parents, it means there must be an attachment between
parents, children in the tabloids I'm gonna lead. That means, inside
rubricasi later, there should be a learning method that helps the readers
children in learning. Thus, I must understand about
the curriculum of children aged first grade SD to sixth grade. Between upset, sad
and bearing the responsibility that was on my shoulders, I cried silently in the room
kostku. This time, I read my mother's letter, telling her that my sister was sick
schizophrenia now has to be treated twice a month to a mental hospital. My father
the old man, was tired if he had to go up and down the angkot to drive my sister.
Mom said, if I had more money, he I bought him a used motorcycle father so he wouldn't
tired of getting on and off the city transport. “Pardon Mom Son, because we have always been
incriminating you. We dare not ask your sister who is the lecturer, his new wife
birthed. The responsibility for his family is huge. Because you haven't
get married, then I ventured to ask you for help.” Said mother in
his letter.
Reading mom's letter, I was stunned. I wanted to tell him that I became a creature
the super efficient in this city. I rarely buy new clothes, shoes
the sole has started to tear and I often get cold if I don't wear socks
in office. I gave almost a third of my salary to Mom. The rest I am very
saves. Even in my kitchen cupboard, I'm always stuffed with instant noodles, so that
when I'm hungry and out of money, there's still food with that artificial pelezat
to fill my stomach. For me the important mother and Father and my sister
the pain of being able to eat and not starving, it has already divided my heart
deepest. Now, mom asked me to buy him a used motorcycle father so he wouldn't
walking when taking my sister to a mental hospital. That sadness
it's like scraping through the deepest space in my chest. I don't have any more money, even
my savings are zero. Along with the office situation that demanded me to
give brilliant ideas so that the oplag Tabloid Children this soar, soar,
the burden was like trying to push my body to a flat bottom.
It's all Beib aka Hamid Utomo, that fucking tycoon! My grunts are upset at
in heart. But what should I do? Everyone in my office, now
turn to me with a hopeful look. Competition with online media
no longer just HOAX competition, but this is real. One-to-one
mainstream media went out of business. And there is a lot of unemployment in journalism
did it happen where I work? Tanya makes a tear
slowly strolling on my cheeks. I feel quiet.
Dude, man,
If there is
the sorrow I want to convey
Should
that I told you?
I kept dozens of grievous from the situation at hand
All accumulate with counterattacks
which makes my chest hurt
But I am ashamed to share
Unwilling
this suffering I leave to anyone
Let.let him burden his shoulders.
And become
the silent story comes late.
I am really sad...
Me, me,
the friend you used to send poems to
Excuse me...
Unintentionally, I wrote my heart out in my Fb messenger. I'm sure the stars are
read it. Actually I'm embarrassed. But I feel I can't bear it
all this alone. Honestly, I don't have any friends to share. I
it feels like being alone in this world. I'm embarrassed to complain
to people I don't know, people whose figures I've never seen. But
for a long time, I assumed he had become my new best friend. Although
just a poem and a sentence or two that he said, I secretly started
noting that the Star is a sincere figure, he does not seem to be a male trapper
women who use Facebook as a field to make a profit. Hopefully
my assessment of him is not wrong.
“Hi, is there a dear?” tanyanya fast.
I'm thumping. “Ah no, I just want to make melancholic poems only. But I guess
this is not a poem, is it?” I replied while giving emoticons funny laugh pictures.
“Do not lie. I can look at you from here. I can see those tears
it flows down your cheek. Please honey, tell me, don't worry me. Well,
give me your WA number, I'll call you right away.” he said again. There's a picture of a hand
full of requests he showed.
I'm silent for a moment. His words show that he has known him for a long time
me and showed me that he and I seemed to have met, as if,
it made me feel more at my own feelings. I'm getting sad.
“Naina, please your WA number. I'm worried about you, really!” he wrote again in
messenger.
Tears are soaking my cheeks. I am strong, now really down. Although
my mind is still the way. I'm still vigilant, I don't want anyone
using my pain.
“Naina, don't think that's not about me. I'm not that loser
trapping young women like you. Really am. If I could be honest, I
have long followed your wall, what are your activities and everything that
little about you. I want to get into your life. You are strong and
strong, I always admire what you do. I know what's going on
at you. Come on Naina, give me your WA number, again, please.
I'm surprised. “you know about me, including my sister?” my many.
“Everything. I know about you. Trust me, I won't set you up!” (Connected)
