If I have given a chance to do time travel, I'll definitely go to my elementary school time. Back at the time, I was so much determined to reach everything I could possibly do. Even though I didn't go to Kindergarten like every other kid, I still managed to reach the top student beating every single one of them. In my head, I can clearly remember how my sisters encouraged me to be able to do simple math, like addition and subtraction. I was assigned to represent the school to compete, in Desa, up until kecamatan. Until one day, I got chosen the best in Sundanesse Speach in Kecamatan, and brought myself to compete at an advanced level in Kabupaten. In English probably called in Municipal, to what I remember. 

So, that was my first time achieving something honorable other than pocket money from every time I was sent to the competition in Desa or Kecamatan. I brought the trophy to school, and then I bragged to my family and the neighborhood. That was the golden time I had, and I really want to restart from since. 

My life, changed in a split of seconds after I brought the trophy home. I got money in my pocket, which I know was a quite amount of it at that time. I didn't share it with anyone, even my family, because that the day I was proud of myself holding so much money in my life for the first time. Can you guess how much it was? its IDR 20K, at that time. With that money, I could buy a bunch of popsicles, ice cream, and even one Tamiya to fulfill my desire.

The thing I realized during that time, I became superior and felt better more than the other. I felt pity for everyone else, belittling them because they didn't win any like I did. I arrogantly thought someone else was worse than me. I was invited to talk during the school weekly ceremony, being talked by the entire school, even one of the Tukang Bubur Kacang Ijo found me extremely awesome, he said. I was like a school prince who brought back the school honor that being buried thousands of years ago.

I got money, I got friends, and I underestimated everything since then. I skipped school just to swim over the river that if I could remember, the water nearly brown full of mud. The worst thing was, I started to smoke with my friends. It was during religious school break (Sekolah agama), in one of the toilets, occupied with three arguably religious students including me, took out from a tiny pocket, half-packed Djarum Coklat was there, and I started to feel dizzy after sucking the smoke into my lungs for the first time. I thought smoking gave myself to chill and relax, yet I only felt my head unstoppably spinning in the toilet.

Ever since then, I showed off to my friends, invited them to smoke together, even I know smoking somehow frustrated me in some way, but I could make friends so easily. Then, there was one time, I ran out of money, but felt the urge to smoke no matter what. I started to see smoking like meals that we couldn't skip no matter what. So, I had no idea how it started, but I once thought to take money out of my parent's purse without them knowing. I started to steal something because of the mere cigarette.

One time, two times, all were clear. My parents did not show any suspicion over me. But that didn't stay longer until one day, I was staying overnight in Kobong (the dormitory in Islamic School (Pesantren)), I heard someone waking me up and said my father was downstairs waiting for me to come out. It was quite sudden because my father had never involved in my thing as he was so much into a quiet person that doesn't bother by anything. I was half asleep trying to think of what was going on, then I realized, I was stealing something from my parents. I quickly checked the rest of the money I took and trying to hide it so I could deny every question my father wanted to ask. 

As I walked towards my father, there was one coin money of 500 rupiahs, fell accidentally out of my Sarung where I hid the rest of the money, It sounded like "Cringggg!". I was shouting inside but numb outside, it's like I got attacked by frostbite where I couldn't even lick my own saliva. 

"Where is the money you took from Mama's purse?" he said to me.

"I don't know what you're talking about" 

"Don't make me ask twice, or something will happen" he started to feel furious. 

" I said, I don't know". He lifted my outer shirt, took off my Sarung, and found some amount of money that he knew I couldn't have the ability to earn that amount of money. I was dragged home so hard and made me want to cry, and yes, I cried. I was hit, slapped, and dragged home rudely. After that happened, I ran from home, went to my friend's home that made me walk for a whole day. It was really far from home, and we didn't have money to get to public transportation. But honestly, his home was really far from reaching public transportation though, so its kinda useless. So we walked a whole day for such a long journey, trying to mind off everything about what had happened to me. 

I had no age gap with my friend, he was like the same age as me, an elementary student in grade 4 precisely. I wasn't sure, but looking from his physical, nothing much different from me. Yet, he didn't go to public school, instead he went directly to an Islamic school (pesantren). The difference was, his parents allowed him to smoke as he wishes to do, but my parents obviously against that culture. So, when I visited his neighborhood, so many kids around my age didn't feel bothered to smoke in public. 

Three days and two nights, I stayed at my friend's. I got to smoke freely, whenever I want, but still, I miss home. So I headed back to Pesantren, not straight to my home. I still didn't have the feeling to go home. Once we arrived, we visited one of our so-called grandma that opens her home near pesantren as a student base camp. 

I rolled a single cigarette-size paper (Pahpir) and filled it with pure tobacco that I brought from my friend's house. I smoked it so nicely, but then someone bangs the door. He was my older brother, and I was dumbfounded while my hand holding a hand-made cigarette. Again, I was dragged harshly and kicked like Bruce lee did it to his enemy. 

"What's your problem you fuck!" I shouted.

"Fuck off you little shit!" he hit me, slapped me hard. "Where the fuck have you been? hah!" "You think you look cool smoking hand made tobacco like that? hah?!!!"

one slap after one sentence, he always does it. 

"Go home now. your mother is sick thinking where you are. Try to run away from home again, trust me I won't ever let it slide for once". and he left. 

I felt really broken in everything. I felt the pain inside outside. while I know everyone watching me being hit and dragged down. I only had one choice, I went home. And yes, I found my mother sitting with tears around her eyes seeing me coming home. 

"Have you eaten yet?" she gently asked.

"I have"

"Why weren't you home for three days? I was really worried" she continued. "If you need money, tell me, if you want to smoke, here I give you a cigarette to smoke here."

and I cried, questioning myself, why was I doing what I was doing. She hugged me softly, and try to calm me over. 

I isolated myself in the house, trying to plan what I would do next. I eventually being moved away from the recent Pesantren and moved to the new one. My mother thought that would be the best decision since my sister was a favorite student and could look after me. 

Yes, it was the best. I didn't get a chance to meet my old friend to smoke, and yes I only listened to what my mother had to tell me. As she still worried sick about what would I become if I had not sent to Pesantren, I would become a useless funk with no future. After I graduated from the school, I was sent away from home just to move to another pesantren, this time, I could not like going home once a day like I used to, it was the real one. A lot of things happened also during my junior high, and I hope I can spare time to tell it here sometime later. 

However, the memory I had during this elementary school still one of the worse ones I have. I really wish to restart it if it is possible to do, but it will never be. Until one day, I started to realize, the path I took taught me to grow. I got that people's appreciation for my achievement doesn't suit me, rather it started to kill me. I felt enough at that time and didn't want to achieve more. That was I started to fall down and drowned in the deep well of self-centralization. It did affect me in the way I think and the way I act. Then, I read about Steve Jobs's autobiography that presents the quote of "Stay hungry, stay foolish". Being a fool doesn't always seem bad to me, because I got to try everything without worrying. 

I don't know what I wanted to write on this page, but to be exact, I intend to remind myself that looking back doesn't necessarily make you feel backward, rather it helps me to realize the thing I didn't have a chance to see. There are always things that become the silver lining for everything we've been through. And to wherever I step my feet and my mind into, I will see it as something to learn regardless of whatever the result is. 

What Chandra Liow quote has taught me, sometimes, we should take one step backward in order to move two steps forwards.