It feels so peculiar typing the word April on this page.
It was only yesterday when my eyes glittered at the sight of fireworks on New Year’s Eve; only yesterday when we welcomed the zodiac year with towering wishes for good health and good fortune; only yesterday when I blew my candles away and embraced a brand new age of existence.
All of these months seem to have been vaporized in my head. I try to remember everything that ever happened during the first few months of the year but all I could think about are my memories of some other time, in a place far away from here.
It would be plain blasphemy to life to say that I am unhappy. No, I am beyond grateful for everything in my life now. I am beyond grateful to have a life support, to have a job that allows me to still be human, and to have the capacity to provide for myself what I was once deprived of as a child.
But in my lucid intervals and moments of clarity, I see sharply a life that I am missing: memories of youth that I can never recover; people I can no longer reconnect with because time has erased the context for such an event; places that I can no longer march on with my bare feet because I have lost that wild, wandering spirit in me.
If only there was a kind of thread to connect me to all that is fluid in my life. If only there was a way swim back into the past and meet up with my old self to tell her what kind of a fool I was for burying her, along with all of these shattered ideals.
But the water does not let itself be contained by the actions of those who do not belong in its element. I can try to resist this aging sadness in my soul but ultimately I am drawn to the bottom of the inevitable truth that everything is going to slip away from my fingers, some time, some day, like the flow of the raging river against the fingertips of those who are bold enough to plunge into the current.
I always think about the endless list of things I want to do, the people I want to be, the lives I want to live, and I imagine each one of them happy in a universe far from where I am.
I know I can always take the extra mile to transform myself and fulfill each of these ambitions, but soon enough I am slapped by the striking realization that everything I know is a distant ideal. So I simply content myself with this kind of life and try to come up of ways to convince myself somehow that there is always something noble about living in the present.
Maybe, just maybe, I shall carry on with this idea until such a time when I become brave enough to prove myself wrong. But until then, I remind myself the only truth that I know.
Dear self, stay happy and stay alive.