My whole life is all about numbers, so that explains my hatred for numbers.

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Your Days are Numbered.”

Today is 9 November 2015, and if I were to wrote it in numbers, it would be 9-11-15, and if I were to delete all the dashes, it would be 91115. So, what do I have to say that would incorporate these numbers? These are not even my favourite numbers.

Most people I know spent 9 months in their mum’s womb, so that’s pretty much the standard of normalcy, right? I mean, we are taught since forever that women are pregnant for months, right? But, not I. Of course, I was taught that women carry their babies in their womb for 9 months, but I did not spent months in my mum’s womb; I spent 10 months. I was supposed to arrived in this earth in March, but my stubborn self decided that I was going to spend another extra month in my mum’s womb. I was born on 13 April 1988, on a Wednesday. Other than that, I remember that my mum told me I was her easiest delivery and also the biggest of all my siblings. I felt very special, knowing that there is only a few people that I know of that spent 10 months in their mum’s womb.

I turned 11 in 1999, it was the most memorable time for most people in my family, I guess. No, not because I turned 11, but it was a year after Indonesia had its first reformation (not that there were anymore of it, that I know of). Just a year before that, we depose our second president (of which had ruled our country for more than 30 years; his regime was called the New Order, pretty fancy name, eh?). 1999 was important because Indonesia had its first election after the downfall of the New Order, where 48 parties participated (the most we have ever had so far). It was chaotic, both in good and bad ways; everyone wants to take part in the long awaited election, and everyone was so energised by the prospect of having a say in the new government. I did not participate in the election, obviously, but I can still remember the festivities that ensues; everybody felt like the new Indonesia is about to come. I was proud to have been there when it happened.

15 is the shorten version of writing the year 2015 for me, and this year has been a roller coaster ride for me. I have managed to do the things that I thought I would not have been able to do. I learned a new language (although not fluently), I made new friends, I tried my hands on writing and maintaining a blog, I wrote a thesis, I read more books than I have ever read in a year, I traveled to new places, and I will come back home at the end of the year. Everything will come full circle by the closing of 2015. I don’t want to get dramatic, but this has been, both, good and bad year for me. For what it’s worth, I am glad I had the chance to be healthy and alive to live (hopefully) until the end of 2015 and see what’s next to come for my life.


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