Have you ever felt lonely in a crowded place? Like you do not belong, yet somehow you are still there? That is what I am feeling while sitting in this café.
As I wait for my order, I look around. My eyes wander from one table to another. Couples chatting. Students are rushing to finish their assignments. Baristas move quickly behind the counter, preparing orders one after another, like a ritual of the day.
The thing is, I do not know any of them.
Perhaps I have seen this lady before. Maybe she remembers my face, too. She smiled and nodded at me earlier, the kind of polite Singapore smile that says, “I know you exist, but let us not disturb each other.” People here seem comfortable staying inside their own world.
My order arrives, a cold coffee for the afternoon. Then my mind wanders elsewhere.
Did I make the right decision? Was it right to leave home and start a new life in this city? What about my friends and family back in Indonesia? Can I really make it here?
I just lost two friends last month to cardiac arrest, and I could not go back to Jakarta to say my final goodbye. I wonder if I traded too much just to build a life in this city.
The cold air from the café aircon brushes softly against my face. “Every Breath You Take” is playing in the background. Yet somehow, everything still feels quiet.
This city attracts people from everywhere. They arrive carrying dreams inside their luggage. Some come for study. Some come for work. Some come to survive. Some come because they simply want a different life.
No matter how long they stay, most arrive with hope. A better salary. A safer future. A new beginning.
And maybe that is the strange thing about big cities. People come to take what they need, then they leave once they find it. Sometimes, without truly knowing the city itself.
Sitting here, reflecting on myself, I realize I am probably no different.
I lost count of how many times I have gone to cafés. Yet I never asked the baristas for their names. I always sit in the corner with my laptop open, like saying, “Please leave me alone.”
Maybe the loneliness was not created by the city. Maybe I built it myself.
The café has always been open. Warm lights. Friendly greetings. Soft music in the background. An invitation to belong, even for a moment. Like an unofficial congregation of tired afternoon coffee drinkers trying to survive life one cup at a time.
But my heart was closed.
I only came here to finish my business. Drink coffee. Open the laptop. Go home. And perhaps I missed the whole point.
I stood up. I walked to the counter to take some sugar syrup. I looked at the barista and said, “Hello, thank you for the coffee. What is your name?”
Maybe that is where healing begins. A small step to start a connection.
And maybe, as Allah reminds me again, humans were never created to live alone. We need a connection. We need kindness. We need to be seen.
Even in a strange city like this one.
