Fiction Campus
PROSE: Finding Wangsit.

Wangsit was born as an invisible whole idea. We can look for it anywhere without any embarrassment. Even the speech of people can be the most memorable Wangsit. As suppose the words of an Mbah Dukun when komat-kamit, the movement of komat-kamit requires understanding.

The understanding that it is also an idea that comes from an identity. Butterflies also understand how to commute. Even if we don't see it, we can believe it's true. But on the other hand, we can also believe that it is also not entirely wrong.

The caterpillar while in its cocoon must be praying to its Lord with animal lips. That is the version of the caterpillar, so that God helps its preparation to the world of freedom. There are other things besides talking. Funnier, death. We are forced to say something that has not been thought of, has not been prepared, has not been able to understand the form of his arrival, and we just try to feel okay in submission.

To love him who cannot escape pity. He, whom we always call his name in the ritual of prayers on cold nights. He, who was present once trembled for a moment within the core of the heart. He, who although we know is not destiny, but we are always filled with hope to live together in the next life.

We miss that figure. Missing, longing, and so cannot not be missed. I want good rights like falling in love. Unfortunately, the emptiness of the heart and the complete memory of the mind can always collide. It is hard to determine the first step between career and love. We have difficulty penetrating the rooms of romance and the rooms of ideals.

All the worries about the future in the brain stem of the imagination, often lie to us and say that the world is a prison. Everything depends on the point of mind and the way our hearts look.

Today I even looked at someone named Millea. He lived as something of a void that I had to fill. I have to admit as a moon in the shajuh sky. The occasional one is still visible and still wants to need recognition from the layers of soil and the trees on Earth. When the moon is angry, the desire to be recognized is lost.

Faded following the part of his body that lost the solar light. It becomes red, nags up there, and blushes on the earth for longer than usual. The only chance for the moon to confide in the earth and become that beautiful ghost.

Millea was like that moon. I need to protect her emotional level. It must be healthy, firm, and straightforward. Just like the sincerity of the moon that always wants to open to the earth. Then Millea is my wangsit. You guys have different wangsit? A coffee? A walk? An adventure? Hot chat? Yeah, I understand that. You are me and I am not necessarily you. When I got sick, Millea became my inspiration to rise, work, play, and find other people.