That’s must be my dad’s car. His 90’s Kijang was likely approaching our small house. The familiar sound of his car machine and the sound of loud music from his car, I can bid with anyone. That’s him. It’s already 8 pm and I was going out from my house to trash something. I opened the door. I brought tissues to be trashed in the trash bin near my house’s terrace. Then, suddenly, I saw my dad. He looked so terrible. He looked so tired and exhausted. He didn’t smile, as he usually do. He brought his working bag and a plastic bag at the time. I looked so silly with the tissues on my hand while he was walking to the door and said salam. He must have had a long day.

When I have been in the house. I asked him, and why he looked so tired.

“capek ki’, pak?” I asked

“iyah,” he answered and took long breath.

“habis keliling makassar,” he added. I didn’t ask anymore question that will bother him. I concluded that maybe he had many things to do and have to drive around the city. Some minutes later he shouted inside of his room. “sial…dapat macet, sampe malam.”

My dad, was not the only person that complaining about how long the day is. My mother also just arrived in house one hour ago. And she said that she was really tired. I know from my phone conversation with her some hours ago, that she was in the school until evening to teach traditional dance to her students. “seharian ka disekolah!”. Yeah, she has gone to school where she works in early morning when I still do my hibernation and came home at almost 7 pm. And myself, I am not as tired as her. But, quite tired, because I haven’t slept and my body was having painfull because ‘unusual rugby’ games I played with my softball team 10 hours ago. Abrar, my younger brother, was complaining because my mom asked him to do too many things. It’s hard to explain, but trust me, it was so complicated and somehow I felt so terrible and badly, terrible.

I got out from the house. I was looking for fresh air outside the house and want to have a relax for a while. I sat in front of the house.Huff. Then I heard, sayup-sayup, sound of loud music from somewhere (sang by a group of music that usually known as orkes), the music that I for me always been the silly music. It became worse because they sang it dangdutly. The song of ST12, Charlie. Oh come on, don’t make me more terrible.

Trying not to listen to the music. I think, about things. My parents are busy, fighting to earn money, until they’re so exhausted, just to feed me, giving me anything I need and to pay my school and to prepare for my next school, college. But, what I do for them? Just ten hours ago I was just playing, some hours ago I didn’t do anything. I should have studied hard. But, I didn’t do them all. I am just playing and being quite lazy so that my stomach gets buncit. Everyday, I say, tomorrow I will be be more diligent and discipline to my life, but I am not. I don’t change. I failed. I am the same everyday. Study in short time, sleep in very long time. I feel more terrible.

“failure is always the best to learn…”

-failure, kings of convenience