I'm Mature Too Late

When I walked from my lodge (Jl. Dewi Sartika) to Sam Poo Kong, I looked many things about society. Especially I was looking at the informal worker in the street. Man who take bamboo in his shoulder; man who sold newspaper in traffic jam without slipper on his foot (you know, here's Semarang, where many suns) and he was disability; a woman  with her daughter sold newspaper too along bridge (wherein under bridge there is river or one day it is sea, where Sam Poo Kong's ship sailed there). I think, whether life to be fair from them? How these bastard structures and systems made them like that? They're not lazy, nor rebel to the fucking capitalist who stole their added value.

You know that poverty is inheritance?  A kid, who born in a poor family will be poor for a long time? And they lose many good opportunities. And how this system makes poor mentality too. They lose their confidence, spirit to study and learn. How damn! Eternal poverty because of greedy.

And God, I'm sorry, this morning I knew that I'm mature too late than my age. I don't know what's good or bad in my life. I don't know how to work effectively to increase productivity. I don't know if the economy is a very base and fundamental things to survive. I don't know how to communicate my problem to others. I don't how to make this society more good than before--even in little circumstance my family. I'm too shy (like "woman" did), I lose my confidence from I was a child. With all ideality, you're a success when you have money, you have a masterpiece like the books, you have a big house, you have many education attributes, and so on, and so on.

God, this truth that every day the story and history are born, but still the same messages.

So, I just sing: I didn't know I cared. There was something special in the air. Dreams are my reality, the only kind of real fantasy. Illusions are a common thing. I try to live in dreams. It seems as if it's meant to be...

I really mean to learn. How deep is, how deep....