"
Breathe, keep breathing. Don't lose your nerve" -
Radiohead



Page 329: Fuck you 2016

/ Saturday, December 17, 2016 /
The only thing that made the Hong Kong airport lounge stopped looking fuzzy and implode in a slow motion that noon was a pack of tissue that some old lady offered. I stopped sobbing for a second to thank her. Not just because of what she offered, but because she held my hand too. She had already sat next to me when I received many notifications the second I turned my phone on; whatsapp messages, missed calls, SMS. The messengers that delivered a news that I knew would break my heart. Even before I read them, I knew that my aunt has passed away. The woman who was like my second mom has gone because of the illness that attacked her a week before. And I couldn’t attend her funeral. No last kiss on her cheek, no farewell words were spoken.

After that, everything in my life seemed to crumbling down, one by one. My former employer decided not to renew my contract as a consultant. And then I didn’t get the scholarship I wanted. And my mom was sick. And my dad was on the verge of mild depression. And my heart was broken..again. 

They all happened in 2016. It’s not a good year. It’s a huge reminder that life has defeated me by throwing me the huge rocks called “misfortune”, over and over. I know I still have a decent place to stay and food to swallow, but it doesn’t mean that my problems weren’t real. This year I took the break. I allowed myself to cry when I felt like I need to. I allowed myself to curse the universe.

But 2016 helped me to realize who my real friends are, people I can’t count on even when I reveal the bitter queen in me. It helped me to know who’d say “take your time, let me know if you need anything”; or those who’d send me a cake all of a sudden just to cheer me up; or those who’d listen to me whining for the umpteenth time, and still hug me afterwards. That they will be my support system most of the time and I would do the same when they need me the most.

And I went to UK this year, a country that I wanted to visit from the age of 13. And I loved it. I loved the weather (that it rained a lot. Don’t you just love the smell of the earth after the rain?), the diversity, the tube, the old buildings, the houses, the park, and how I can be the real pedestrian and walked most of the time. I went to Tate Modern and saw Salvador Dali’s Metamorphosis of Narcissus, Rene Magritte’s The Annunciation and Jane Alexander’s African Adventure with my own eyes. I met my buddies again. And I remembered how happy I was.

Right now, I can say that the hurricane has gone. Well pretty much. I got a new job, I’m learning new things, I’m making plans for personal projects, and I smile every time I remember something about my aunt. My heart? Still beating somehow. Surviving. Reposing?

Reposing..yeah she needs it.

I hate you, 2016. And I’m sure many people feel the same. You’re a shitty year, you’re a rotten year. Thank you for torturing me, thank you for London and Scotland, thank you for giving me a new job. But I still hate you. I do. Fuck you 2016.


2 comments:

{ Liana Engie } on: December 20, 2016 at 7:05 AM said...

Hugs, my dear! I wish I could be there for you in person.

{ Dita } on: January 7, 2017 at 6:26 AM said...

Well I have to admit that in 2016 I swear a fucking lot.

 
Copyright © 2010 stickybunbook, All rights reserved
Design by DZignine. Powered by Blogger