A Strange Child

I was child, man. I was 13 years old one year ago. I was alive in small village and lived with my friends well. I was a very naughty child as I heared from people around me. At elementary school, I always annoyed others and caused them cried then I my self cried. I made them so fed up then their parents and my parent reprimanded me. At basic school and junior high school, my teachers hunted me whenever they could. I played, slept and lost in the middle lesson. So fun. I hunted fun thing that I felt.

Foto: Arif Julianto/Okezone

Until at the time, I was adolescent. My hair  was not black again. I changed to be red, blue or others I liked. I spent the night in the screet, smoked even I used drug. As hard as my family commemorated me, I was persistant. I was fun with my self like this.

When my father was dead, I didn’t know what I felt. Not sad, unhappy. I stolen when my family was busy. And now, I was strange to the other place. The far place from where I birth. It cause police was chased me. I was still alive. I was still alive safe.