Bandung, I hope you drown in another sea of flames
Whoever said Bandung was a beautiful place was nowhere close to the reality of it - or at least my reality of it: hypocrites who boldly swear on the cross and Holy Bible, sloths with the most unrealistic envy and yet the most minimal concrete effort and an even more minimal concept of sportsmanship, the most shamelessly shameful men with nothing to prove but a shell of themselves that is barely even theirs, and mouths too big that even a scold's bridle of the medieval ages wouldn't have fit them.
I don't know what possessed the first person to say it saw in that godforsaken place, but they did themselves a favour of looking nothing beyond the people's friendliness as it is: a facade of hospitality to a mere thousand blades of insults and derogatories they wouldn't even dare speak of in your face. Or maybe I just didn't know how to get along well with the people there. Everyone who has given me bad memories are from there, and everyone I have met there have left me nothing but a bad impression.
I wish to have nothing to do with the place and the people there and to have to step no foot or face anyone there any longer. Truly, out of grudge that I shouldn't have. At first it was out of shame as I thought the fault laid with me, but I realized that over time, it was indeed something also wrong with everyone I had ever come across and that I had made the right decision to have no more associations with them.
Awful people will be everywhere but I seemed to have met most of them in that place more than anywhere else. I will be unfair to say that I curse everyone just because they come from a certain place, but I will stand so for my own sake, a personal defense mechanism. Over time I will get over it but as of now, I will hold a grudge. With that said, I wouldn't mind if the town burnt to ashes a second time, or a third one even.
What happened was the opposite of flames: water. The place was hailed by a was probably a tempest that would also take down trees and vehicles with it, and I couldn't help but be happy. I even wished that the people caught up in those storms and one of the many road accidents to be probably one of the many who have done me wrong. The thought that they wouldn't be able to navigate such conditions and enjoy their long weekend during the only time they have any luxury of leisure also made me all the more satisfied.
For a bit I couldn't help but think it was God's finally doing me justice, but the more I thought about it, the more I couldn't help but feel really disgustedly foreign towards myself. It's in no way right to wish on anyone's downfall or seek out some Schadenfreude, and I should feel some guilt towards myself for feeling so, but the fact that I don't and I instead feel this to be an act of divine judgement is truly disgusting of myself.