Bye, Bajingan.

I am writing again.

Finally.

It has been a while since I last sat down and allowed myself to pour the deepest parts of my heart into words. Perhaps because I thought I no longer needed to. Life has been good. I have been moving forward. I have been building a life that I genuinely enjoy.

I thought I was okay.

But here I am again, returning to the one place where I have always been able to lay down the things I cannot seem to carry anywhere else.

Writing has always been that place for me, the place where I can pour out all the crazy shit that lives somewhere between my mind and my heart without having to make it sound graceful, reasonable, or healed.

Because healing, apparently, is not as simple as reaching a point where you believe you are finally over something.

Sometimes, it returns quietly.

Not necessarily in the form of pain. Sometimes, it comes back as a memory. An expectation. A fleeting glimpse of who someone once was to you, or perhaps, more painfully, who you once believed they could be.

And that is what unsettles me the most.

There was once a part of my heart that held someone so delicately. Someone I cared for deeply, made space for, and somehow intertwined with my hopes and expectations of the future.

And now, when those memories return, I feel almost disgusted.

Not because I want him back.

I don’t.

God knows I don’t.

But there is something deeply unsettling about realizing that someone you no longer want in your life still exists somewhere within your memories. That a version of you still remembers how deeply she once cared.

And perhaps that is what gives me the ick. JIJIK BANGET to remember!

Because I thought I had forgiven. I thought I had let go. I thought I had made peace with everything that happened.

But lately, I don’t know if what I feel is forgiveness anymore.

It feels more like disgust.

An instinctive rejection of everything that once had a place in my heart.

And I hate that.

Trust me. Sebenci itu.

I hate that there is still enough emotion left for me to feel this way. I hate that anger and resentment can still surface when I thought I had already given myself enough space to heal.

I finished my therapy sessions last year. I processed. I reflected. I gave myself permission to grieve, to understand, to forgive myself and eventually, to forgive him too.

Or at least, I thought I did.

So when these feelings return, I find myself wondering:

How long does healing take?

How many times do you have to forgive the same thing before it finally stops coming back?

How long will my body remember something my mind has already decided to leave behind?

Because honestly, I am tired.

Capek banget woy.

I am tired of revisiting a place I have spent so much time trying to leave.

And perhaps what frustrates me the most is this:

I have what I once prayed for now.

I am happy.

I genuinely love where I am today.

There are new people, new dreams, new opportunities, and a new chapter of my life unfolding before me. For once, I am not trying to escape my life.

I want to live it.

I want to be here.

So why does the past still find its way back to me sometimes?

I don’t want disgust or anger to be the last thread connecting me to something that no longer deserves a place in my life.

I want peace.

The kind of peace that does not require me to erase what happened, but allows me to remember without being pulled back.

The kind of forgiveness that does not excuse anything, but finally releases me from carrying it.

Because perhaps forgiveness is not about giving someone else another chance to occupy your heart.

Perhaps it is about taking your heart back.

And I want mine back.

And then, just when I thought I had successfully forgave him, my friend texted me.

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Apparently, she had saved his TikTok name as “Bajingan.”

And honestly? I immediately remembered exactly who and what kind of bajingan we were talking about.

I told her, “Honestly, that name suits him very well.”

Well, well, well.

Of all the ways to be reminded of someone. Knowing that I’m still thrilled to mock him.

But despite everything, and despite how perfectly the name seems to fit him, I genuinely hope he doesn’t remain a bajingan for the rest of his life.

I mean, people can change.

Right?

For his own sake.

And everyone else’s, too, at least to his freaking family.

But that’s not my responsibility anymore.

Whether he changes or stays the same. Whether he regrets what happened or never thinks about it again.

That is no longer my story to carry.

I have my own story now.

And honestly?

It’s a beautiful one.

God, please.

I am happy where I am today.

I want to open my heart to this new chapter — to the people I have yet to meet, the dreams I have yet to pursue, the love I am about to experience, and the life You have already placed in front of me.

So I am writing again.

Maybe this is what I need to do when my heart becomes too crowded.

To return here.

To let the words carry what I no longer want to carry alone.

To pour out all the crazy shit (the anger, the disgust, the confusion, the exhaustion, and the embarrassment, all about him was shit I have to admit).

Maybe I do not need to have everything figured out tonight.

Maybe healing does not mean I have failed simply because something hurts again.

Maybe forgiveness is something I will have to choose more than once.

But I know this much:

I don’t want to carry you into a life that you are no longer part of.

I have already walked away.

I have already chosen to move forward.

Now, I am simply waiting for my heart to understand that it is safe to follow.

And maybe that is my prayer tonight.

God, please let my heart catch up to the life I have already moved into.

Let forgiveness return — not because he deserves anything from me, but because I deserve peace.

I am here now.

I am happy.

I am grateful.

I am ready.

And to the person who once held such a delicate place in my heart —

I hope you heal.

I hope you grow.

I hope you become a better person.

I genuinely do.

But I hope even more that I finally stop carrying the weight of who you were.

So this time, maybe I don’t need another dramatic goodbye.

Maybe I just need something simple.

Something honest.

Something that finally feels like me.

Well, well, well.

Bye, bajingan.