As usual, I woke up jaded, dreadful, empty. In the past few days, probably since the first session of my therapy, I rarely got overstimulated by thoughts before bed or nightmares, but I still wake up in dissonance. I always feel like there’s something missing. In me, in what I do. Oftentimes, I try hard to close my eyes even when the sleepiness is no longer there, or cover my head with a blanket whenever the sun starts to rise just to spare more time staying in bed.
I know this doesn’t sound too bad, but every day I have a battle with myself not to expect anything from the day. Even harder is trying to triage everything that needs to fit into that day, when most of the time I feel like I don’t want to act or think about anything at all.
People would probably see this as burnout. A simple act of getting rid of boredom by taking a walk, going somewhere, meditating, or doing hobbies would “cure” it. I even wake up without speaking a single word until I decide to, and it’s mostly with colleagues at work around noon. This heavy but empty feeling has now turned numb, along with how many mornings I’ve spent like this, subconsciously.
It wasn’t until this morning.
I decided to order GrabFood from a “viral” place. I’d been trying to order it since the other day, but it kept getting canceled because, unlike what the menu showed, they were always out of stock. My mood this morning was already bad, and this kept happening. It was one of those moments when you simply want to get what you want, and you just couldn’t, even when you technically have all the resources to get it. That alone doubled the damage.
The merchant told me they couldn’t cancel, so I was asked to change the variant. Again, this sounded so simple because it’s just food, and what else would you expect from eating it? But I still said no, because the other variants weren’t what I wanted to eat. I don’t like the idea of eating something I didn’t plan to, just because it was their mistake. Why even show it as in stock when the item isn’t actually available?
Then something hit me. The first message from the driver was polite. I softened a bit, because he was just doing his job and didn’t deserve to receive my rant. Then I explained the situation to him and finally decided that he could take the food for himself or share it with other drivers or his family. Honestly, at first, I didn’t care what he did with it. I just didn’t want to eat it.
A few moments later, he sent a photo and then he said:
“Aku kasih ke Pasukan Gober di **** yaa. Terima kasih sudah baik kak hari ini, saya juga mau berbuat hal yang sama.”
I quoted exactly what he wrote in the chat, verbatim.
And finally, I crumbled. I cried hard. Not because of what he said, but because of how this indifferent and cold gesture from me affected someone so deeply.
He even closed his message by saying, “Inshaallah rezeki kakak dan saya dimudahkan dan dilancarkan.”
I honestly don’t deserve good people, not in this way.
Not with the mood I carried from the moment I woke up. Not with the disappointment that came from not being able to eat the food I wanted for the past few days. Not with all the piled-up life problems I still need to sort out. Not with the desire to let go of people and just walk alone in the dark.
To be honest, this wasn’t the first encounter with strangers that truly left a mark on me and taught me something. Some of them I still keep in my head and heart until today because of how deeply they affected me. They gave lessons I didn’t even ask for, and yet those lessons were priceless, and I feel privileged enough to receive them.
Yes, this doesn’t instantly change everything in me, but I suddenly felt a warmth in my chest. I think that’s enough. So, for the last time, I sent him a message:
“Makasih banyak Kak **** pengingatnya, supaya aku bisa lebih ikhlas dalam hal sekecil apapun. Hari ini mood lagi gak baik, malah diketemuin sama driver baik. Semoga lancar segala usaha dan doanya, hal-hal baik selalu datang buat Kak **** sekeluarga ya!”
Again, that’s what I wrote, verbatim.
I’m reminded again how encounters with strangers sometimes give us the clearest view of life. They act like mirrors without bias, offer kindness without obligation, and give honesty without the weight of history or emotional debt. They don’t carry expectations of who you should be, don’t hold your past against you, and don’t feel the need to manage your feelings. They speak simply because they have nothing to protect in you and nothing to lose from you. And somehow, that’s what makes it feel real: a small, sincere exchange between two people who may never meet again, yet still manage to leave something quietly meaningful behind.
