2020; quicksand

 It's the time of the year again. I'm not sure if I have the ability to review the year, it's been thoroughly painful. 

But the main thought that brought me to writing this post was "It's this time of the year again, and I still really, really, really don't want next year to come". I don't want to hear all that 'next year is gonna be a better year' bullshit. Yes, this year was bad. Very bad. Very, very bad. But believe me, I know that next year will be worse. I believe that from the depths of my very broken heart. 

So, no. I still don't want next year to come. Who the fck said 2020 was going to be the year. Well, it was the year - the worst year. But don't fret folks, the worse is actually yet to come. 

Anyway, please know that when I write these things, it refers to me, not the actual folks in the world. It's a good time to leave the world. God has screwed me over so many times this year. But maybe, the real thing is that I screwed up so many times this year. If God was the one opening doors, I was the one slamming them in my own face. 

Yup, perpetually screwed. It is in my intention to keep this post less.. vivid. Nobody should hear the things that goes on in my head. Not even you. 

The year started with me barely hanging onto a job that I potentially despised, I didn't understand it and I can't do it and I can't do it with those people. Then, it started on a grueling 3 months self-redemption. I tried. God, I tried. My cognitive functions were so far gone, it was merely a dot in a very, very dark black space. I couldn't think, I couldn't speak, I couldn't write, I couldn't read, I couldn't remember, I couldn't function. With the additional stress I had at work in the form of a person who seemingly loved me but was out there to ruin my life if he could help it, I really tried. 

Fast forward to March. Oh god, March. Not gonna lie, while it was heartbreaking to see all my efforts go down the drain, but the relief I felt for having that burden lifted off my shoulders was much bigger. And that was that. I lost a job from heartbreak. 

Now here comes the fun part. Pandemic happened, lockdown and deaths rising across the world. Yes, people were dying. But while they were, I was the living dead. I know its insensitive to say this, but at that point, I'd rather be dead dead. Still do. Just not from the coronavirus. But now, I don't think I care at all how I die. 

Those painful months of being in my own head and the voices were so loud I barely slept and when I did, I didn't wake. I wish I didn't wake. I fully let myself feel that pain, that loneliness, that abandonment, my entire world crushed. There was no concept of night and day or sleep or well, any resemblance of normalcy really. And all I did was watch a lot of kpop videos and binge watch so many k-dramas, I finished 2 different dramas over the course of 48 hours. I think I almost hated all of the dramas I watched during that time. But I still did it. I've always had these little signs of psychopathy. And then I lie there, when the voices get too loud, I cry. And they were loud everyday. I was living through my worst fears every fcking day. You won't remember me, you won't remember me and I won't exist anymore. 

Just like that. Two months. I celebrated my birthday in isolation (eternally grateful to the people who showed up). Hate birthdays, still do. Glimmers of hope, I was hanging on a very thin thread. I did it? I think I did? I managed to make my brain believe that it was never going to happen. Now I have to figure out other ways to continue to exist. Whatever way, whatever the fck it takes. The hell continues. 

June. Started a new job, blessed with a lovely boss, blessed with working from home (its a blessing in disguise) because now I had my own times, but I am also very shit at handling my own hours. So no, eventually still became hell. I make my own hell every time, huh? 

Then, I tried. I fcking tried. Somebody please pat me on the back and tell me that I did try. If only you know what it took for me to get there. It was a strange journey. But in that entire process of getting to know someone else, I found out more about myself. It was like an interrogation all the time, I was always on best behaviour and I learnt more about the skeletons in my closet - and oh god, there were so many. I know now that nobody will accept those. 

But everything came crushing. Sure, I screwed up somewhere along the way. I did, but we got there, didn’t we? Why does the past keep haunting us? Why do you keep letting it? Why can’t you see that the present is going to be much more than the shitty cowards we were? Why are you still scared? I’ll choose you everyday, every fcking day, believe me. I made good on my word, and I’m going to keep doing it. I’m not that person anymore, won’t you change with me? We’ve moved past that. Is this a battle I will never win? Am I always going to lose? 

In between all these, there were some good moments, it was the way you reach out for my hand when we walk, that brief slow dance, that long walk over the bridge, and the little chase we had. There was a lot of honesty, and it was that realization that came too late. I believed you in that instance, even though it's not really true. This is a lie I'll try to find comfort in. 

But this year, I got a dog in my home. Blossom is lovely and she’s a handful and she’s expensive but she’s in? lovely. She’s the darling of my heart and she deserves to be happy. I don’t want to make her sad. 

Now it's December and my life is effectively over. I'm just waiting, just waiting for the cue. That conversation, that push, that sign, that word. I'm ready. 

"I won't make it this time."

So next year. No goals. No stupid hope and no dumb wishes. Nothing. I'm done. 
I can't wait to go.