A New Start

I woke up this morning with the same feeling, anxious. Mostly because the loud noises of my chinese neighbors congratulating each other for a happy new year. Not that I oppose with the celebration- and not that I am a racist person, but shouting at 6.30 in the morning, really? I deserve a longer sleep! Well, yeah it will never happen. I try to smack myself into the side of the bed, but the noise was getting louder, turns out the neighbors are invited into my house terrace by my mom, so they’re having the tea time of their life. With a pounding headache I get out from my room to snatch some chocolate croissant that I was intended to have as a breakfast, but my mom already sliced it to pieces. I was torned. “These are for them, you can have two”. The croissants was from a cafe called Le Petite which are located in the hotel where my sister having a staycation for the holiday. I shrugged, usually I will react because food is everything, I mean it really is, you spent a whole lot of money for having yourself feed a proper one, but I don’t have the energy to take a drama lesson and fight over a croissant, so I took two pieces and having a tea in my back terrace home. I did not know what to do. I mean, this is the first day in the year that I should be making a resolution, but bullshit with that, I can’t even made my mind right! So here I am, writing. I fil my space out, instead venting my anger with everyone in the house. My old long passion that was left behind. I was thinking too much about what I will write for months, months turn into years, so I read the article couple days ago, that you have to do something that you like yourself. The article stated that have a quality me-time, which explain something that you have to do something that you like yourself. Me-time is not accepting an invitation of hang-out with friends while you’re actually want to be alone, nor having a trip for your office holiday party, but is rather do what you like the most. And that question haunts me. It’s been years..yes years that I don’t enjoy myself. I came early morning to the office  (which in my case, hospital) and I succeed to convinced myself that I love doing it, came to office early morning, having things to do at work, keeping myself busy, but seriously..more to think that was because I don’t know what to do when I had a me-time, I ended wasting it up for things that I don’t really enjoy myself.. I forgot that I have wants and needs. So I asked myself a lot lately..December had been really nice for me, so I spent my last weekend of the year bought an english literature book, read it in a day, it was autobiography titled Over The Top, which came to first place in goodreads reader’s choice on their website for biography. Then I swim, I swim my heart out, I swim alone and enjoy being in the water- and out of the water, listening the sound of nothing while inside the water, and heard rumbling of everyone’s voice and gym song when you’re catching out your breath above the water, it’s soothing and theraupetizing.I spent the night bingewatching my new favourite show Fleabag, which easily became my new favourite tv show for the year ( sometimes I made an award by myself in my mind), so with that I had a solid perfect weekend. Then I feel not complete, there must be something that was missing..and it was this. Writing. I forgot how interesting it was. To write. To spell you heart out. To pick carefully the choice of the words, to made it into sentences, to made a story.

But I will do it for myself, not thinking about what the market want or about what people want, but I just want to do it as my relieving media for venting my own emotion, a written one, a poetic one. Then my life would mean something. Then if, just if people read my stories, they could relate it, that we’re just basically the same, tangled in our fucking mind creating by our own creative fucking mind. I took it from the book that I just read, that the best is writing my own story, a biography look alike, trust me- you don’t have to be a historian, or a founder, or anything really, because if you have a message your writing mean something. For months I was trying to choose whether it’s a fiction, or a mystery, or a murder mystery, or medical story, or a medical murder mystery, but that was just fiction. And in the midst of my busy working days, what I need most is a place for releasing this craziness. So I could put my own story into a a fiction- that was based on a true story. And I also take a good sidenote from watching my new favourite tv show, that have an approach to viewers or readers is a good way to enjoying life. I mean, if you’re describing your everyday life and your daily tasks, your mind will not wander, because your focus on doing entertaining the reader or viewer- which means that you’re focus on describing what you’re really doing at the moment instead thinking about what happens next or what had happened. And you need a balance, a chaotic and loud life as if you’re out of the water, and shooting yourself – as if you’re in the water. Writing is one of this effective therapy for calming myself down. I write with my music on, instead doing the dances with music that take for hours, it’s like another bad habit, it was fun, but after a while you regret it.

It is working, I know it. It is not a resolution, but one thing for sure, it calms my mind down. 

Happy new year!

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