I started to walk when I was about 8 months old and I ran when I was 9 months. I fell down and I cried. And every time I fell, I learned something. It hurt when you fell down and it was okay to cry.
Twenty years later here I am. Standing on my academic regalia (or in bahasa it called “toga”) and there was Gaudeamus Igitur sung in the hall. All the ceremonial things being prepared well and all the seats has been arranged, but guess what, I don't need all of them. I need more than just things. I need someone. I need my parents seeing me using my toga. Seeing me sung Gaudeamus Igitur. Saw me and just smiled proudly. But indeed, I learned something. Being mature was an option and I choose to be and act like one.
It's the end of a new beginning. I am not a 9-months-old-spoiled-lil'-boy anymore. I am a 20-years-old-post-graduated-man. Thus, I have a new journal to write on.
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