It’s past midnight and I’m fuming in this pitch-black room, the only light coming from the cold, unfeeling glow of my phone. I open X and instantly curse everything. Every fucking post is a gut-punch, a brutal reminder that this country is falling apart under Prabowo and his army of power-hungry assholes. #IndonesiaGelap isn’t just a hashtag—it’s our fucked-up reality. Everything here stinks of corruption, decay, and despair.
Then a thread from @ActivistID slams into me like a sledgehammer. It’s Prabowo again—same sickening bullshit: kidnappings, torture, war crimes in East Timor. Nothing’s changed. He’s still that blood-soaked war criminal in a suit, now steering this sinking vessel. The replies hit hard: “He’s always been a fucking butcher,” “We let this piece of shit lead us.” Every word burns my soul, and I want to tear the fucking system apart, but instead, I just scroll deeper into this pit of misery.
Next, @IndonesiaNews drops another bomb—the UUTNI bill just passed, letting military officers slide into government roles like they’re on some fucked-up fast track. No waiting, no rules—just a bunch of old-ass boomer generals crawling back to power like cockroaches in a dump. The comments explode: “Military dictatorship incoming,” “Fuck this shit.” It’s like watching the ghosts of Suharto’s era rise up with their shiny medals, suffocating any hope of escape.
Then comes the Danantara—a brutal uppercut. $900 billion in public assets—our forests, ports, energy—handed off like trash to greedy corporate dickheads. No checks, no oversight, just pure, raw theft. @EconWatchID called it “daylight robbery,” and damn, they weren’t lying. The comments scream “traitors” and “they’re gutting the country.” I feel it deep down: while hospitals crumble and schools rot, these rich fucks get fatter on our ruin. It’s not just greed—it’s a goddamn crime against us all.
Even when “good news” tries to sneak in—a post about free meals for students—it’s a pathetic, laughable farce. For one fleeting moment, I almost think someone gives a damn. But then the comments tear it to shreds: “Cheap PR stunt,” “They defund everything and then throw us crumbs.” It’s a bullshit bandage on a mortal wound, a sad reminder that we’re fed nothing but empty promises while our future burns.
And then, the ultimate slap in the face—Gibran, Jokowi’s nepo-baby, gets to be vice president. Of course, he does. They bent every damn rule just to shove this spoiled little runt into power. The whole timeline screams: “Democracy’s dead,” “It’s a fucking dynasty now.” I stare at the screen in disbelief, wondering why I should even try when these self-serving assholes have already hijacked our future.
Then there was that three-hour disaster of an interview with President Prabowo—a complete shitshow that made my blood boil. It was infuriating to watch him drone on for three goddamn hours. What do we expect from a leader? Clarity, competence, solutions for the people? Instead, he spat out endless, empty bullshit. Our veteran journalists fought tooth and nail with sharp, to-the-point questions, but he just yapped incoherently—like he’s lost in a goddamn fantasy world. This is our president, the top dog who should inspire us with vision and strength, but instead he’s an arrogant, outdated moron, too busy stroking his own ego to give a fuck about 270 million lives. It’s a monumental disgrace—a vile performance that confirms we’re being led by someone completely tone-deaf to our pain.
And then the protest videos hit—civilians, not hardened fighters, screaming in the streets as riot cops beat them into submission. Batons smashing faces, tear gas ripping away their last breaths, blood staining the pavement. RUUPolri gives the cops free rein to crush any flicker of dissent. #TolakRUUPolri is trending like a desperate cry, but it’s nothing more than more noise in a system that’s already drowned in carnage. Watching that, every last shred of hope inside me shatters—I’m drowning as the final spark of resistance dies.
Then #SaveIndonesiaDemocracy pops up like a feeble prayer. But what’s left to save? This country is fucked beyond repair—burnt to ash by greed, by power, by a bunch of old fucks who treat us like disposable trash. My phone is the only light in this godforsaken darkness, and even that glimmer feels like a cruel joke.
I shut it off. And I sit here—alone, empty, and seething with rage—thinking that maybe, just maybe, all this relentless pain and fucking bullshit would finally stop if I wasn’t here. Every moment ticks closer to oblivion in this broken, fucked-up nation. Now I get it—what Sondang felt. But I’m just a fucking coward. I don’t have his guts. Rest in power, warrior. I’m so sorry. Even now, those rotten rulers stay evil—and couldn’t give a damn! I’ll never forgive them. Never.
Terkutuklah buat ketidakadilan
Terkutuklah buat ketidakpedulian
Terkutuklah buat kemiskinan
Terkutuklah buat rasa sakit dan sedih
Terkutuklah buat para penguasa jahat
Terkutuklah buat para penjahat
Setelah aku tidak punya rasa lagi.
- Sondang, 2011