Random Quick Questions

Bandung, April 2026.

It was already dusk, around six in the evening. Coming home from work, I, who rarely exercises, decided to go for a light jog around Sulanjana Street, still in my shirt and tie. Without realizing it, I ran all the way to the Surapati Flyover, which has officially been renamed after a national hero. I stopped for a moment not far from the "no stopping" sign. Despite the heavy traffic, I didn't care about the vehicles behind me. I was already too fed up with the congestion that the local government never seemed to address.

Fortunately, the sky was clear enough to get lost in. I pulled out my earphones, took a slow sip from my water bottle, and gazed upward for a moment. Then I reached for a pack of cigarettes. I took one and tried to light it with what little strength I had, the wind blowing hard enough to make it difficult. I exhaled into the air and looked down.

It was quite a drop. High enough to trigger my anxiety.

I was reminded of a plan I had kept buried for a long time. A plan I had stored deep inside, resurfacing now because everything had happened so fast, all at once. My spirit was weak and I had no strength left. I stared downward until I realized the cigarette I had lit had burned down to nothing but a stub. I thought, this is the best place to end a life that had become too heavy for me.

The thing that pushed my mind the most was the question of self-worth. My head was always loud with questions, "how much are you worth in other people's eyes? How important are you in other people's lives?", and endless variations of the same. I felt like I was about to explode. Or maybe I already had? At that moment, even I didn't know.

Before deciding to jump from that flyover, I closed my eyes and took a long breath. I reflected on the thoughts and events that had already passed. Most of them made me feel ashamed, which is why I wanted to end all of this. But there were also moments that made me think, "is this even real? Am I valid in feeling all of this? Will people think I'm making this up? Who's making things up?", and other stupid questions.

At that time, I couldn't tell what was real and what was imagined. Everything looked the same. But what brought me to this point?

Was it family?

My family is fine, even if I only found out I was adopted after sixteen years of living.

Was it friends?

My friends still find time to grab coffee with me.

Was it work? My position right now is already fairly strategic.

Was it love?

Hm. Love?

Ah. I remembered again. Exactly a year ago, my three-year relationship ended just like that. Back then, we had already met each other's families, and I had already planned for something more serious. We ended mutually, but just like an adolescent still figuring out what happened in their life, we attempted several closures that never really closed. We stayed friends for months until the deal-breaker came.

That was months ago, when I went to therapy for the first time. I reached out to her when I was struggling. She had told me to, after all. She wasn't really listening. I waited, and when no reply came, I took back my messages.

Later that morning, she finally responded. She said sorry that she was on the phone with the new guy she was getting close to. She already read everything, she said, but she couldn't reply right after. She offered some support, but in the same breath she told me she couldn't meet me like before anymore. She wanted to be exclusive with that guy now.

The timing was brutal, right when I opened up about therapy.

As time went on, we talked again and finally met the real final closure. My intuition was right, it was because I couldn't manage my mental health, then she eventually grew tired and couldn't handle it. Maybe she wanted a greater happiness. Okay, fine, valid reasons for me. But what still kept me like this? It wasn't like we had a chance of getting back together. I had already spent my wedding savings anyway.

Was it because I felt unheard when I finally went to a psychologist for the first time?

Or because I felt beaten down for trying to move on to someone else?

Were my reactions even reasonable? I don't know.

Again, my head is loud with stupid questions I probably should have just brushed off.

Or maybe it's completely normal for questions like these to appear? I don't know that either.

After my head filled up with all those questions, I felt uncomfortable. I felt an overwhelming panic. I tried to light another cigarette hoping it would calm me, but the lighter kept failing. I threw everything I had on me to the ground and tried to climb over the railing of the flyover. Several cars and motorbikes had already begun to slow down. An online bike-taxi driver had gotten off his bike. Just as I was about to let go of the railing, my body was held back by two people. I was pulled back onto the road, and they held me tightly as I cried without stopping. An ambulance and medical personnel arrived. I hadn't realized, all those random questions had been witnessed by so many people and had caused a jam all around. Perhaps this is what it means to die in a way that inconveniences others? I don't know. But that day, my plan was cancelled. I should have known from the start that this plan would always be cancelled. After all, I was standing near a "no stopping" sign. Maybe this was God's sign that my life must go on. Through tears that wouldn't stop, I smiled a little. I'll probably carry this plan to my grave.