The New Year

The first day of the new year for me was spent just chillin at home watching my favourite depressing but fascinating show, Criminal Minds.

The second day of the new year is being spent doing the same thing but also now reminiscing the past year, looking through pictures and trying to think what I was feeling at those moments. My phone has been abandoned far away so i don't get distracted by constantly checking it since i think i'm waiting in vain. I'm listening to The Riddle by Five for Fighting and it seems so apt for this moment, or time of the year. The year is having a new beginning but I think i already had one a few weeks back.

So i'm looking at my holiday pictures and i feel like the pictures make it seem as if i enjoyed myself a lot more than i actually did there in person. It's true. I feel so fulfilled looking at those pictures and I overlay them with a perceived feeling of joy, which is not so much the truth. Because i still remember that when i was there I wasn't so joyful everyday. But i guess it's better to feel as if everything had been fine and dandy because afterall it's already passed and there's really no use mulling over how bad it really was when my mind is already overwriting it with happy memories.

I think i've already begun changing before the new year itself and it definitely has made life easier to live and made a lot of things more acceptable to my narrow, inflexible and restricted mind. I've given way to my more liberal self and just let myself fall into whatever madness springs up from whatever road i've stumbled upon. And it's just been better this way. And i wish i realised it earlier but still, better late than never.

And now I just want to keep writing because the feeling of typing is enjoyable, the softness of my keyboard protector as i pitter patter on just makes me want to keep going. Even if there is no audience i always feel as if i'm releasing some part of myself for the sake of myself and that's good enough. Writing everything on paper is good too but my hand gets ever so tired ever so quickly that i never really get to write everything i want to before i'm forced to stop by the aching. And everything feels so much more automatic when i'm typing. Someway, somehow.

I guess my only hope for the year ahead is that there will be no heartbreaks and all will be well.