I’m gonna need for no boys to touch me ever.
The more I get to know my cousins on my mom’s side of the family (of which there are a lot - she’s the 2nd youngest of 6 siblings) the more desperately I regret leaving Indonesia at such a young age (6)
I’m so blown away and so fucking humbled by the kindness they’ve shown to me, someone who’s basically been MIA for 5 years??? I missed weddings, birthdays, the birth of my first and only niece—all events that my mom told me about in passing, but never really dwelled on. I didn’t even get to see all of them the last time I was here. This one cousin, who has been exceedingly hospitable, I haven’t seen in 8 years. He is so so so good to me and it’s incredible that this is all simply because we’re family.
I spent a day volunteer-teaching English at a boarding school with a bunch of other Indonesians who are studying or living abroad. The majority of them left Indonesia for university, but have otherwise lived here their whole lives. I really really REALLY wish that had been the way my life worked out. I wish I left later. I wish I knew my language better. I wish I was able to read about Indonesian politics from Kompas instead of the World Politics section of, idk, The New York Times. I wish I was able to eat more Indonesian food more often (so good. So cheap). And above all I wish I’d been able to be more a part of my family’s lives. It’s just my parents and my little brother in Canada. I’m just now really understanding what I missed out on and I am so bitter and regretful it fucking sucks
In sum: my cousins are so nice, too nice, and I’m having a good cry about it
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