2013.

At the eve of something big, no matter the occasion, it always warrant a meaningful post or two. Due to this being typed while being bedridden with a persistent bug, which has so far overcame most medicine I threw at it, managing one is definitely too much for my plate. Planned to head off someplace to watch some fireworks, but couldn't risk turning my new year into a literal bang with blood and mangled flesh.

When you're sick, you've no choice but to think about stuff. Because you can barely do any other shit. You'd think about getting better; what would you do when you recover, the food you'd try, all the places you could have gone when you were down with whatever the fuck this is. You'd want to rest, in order to conquer this illness. Actually, you have to rest since there's not much you can do anyways because nobody likes you, that's why. 

Picture this though; people all dressed up, in a crowded enclosed area, cheering loudly on as they participated in exuberant merrymaking, anticipating for new year's day to come. For the old year to pass and to let all things run anew; letting bygones be bygones and all that forgiveness love-dovey stuff. Essentially, for the ball to drop. Then there's you, sitting in a dark enclosed room, illuminated by a bright monitor, typing in his blog about how he never get the new year eve that he wanted; how all his resolutions always go to hell. Basically, rants unfit for a public audience. Then, he'll keep telling himself that the new year will be better, not realizing that he's already doomed for eternity.

Hmm, this year. Lots of stuff happened, none quite memorable that they need special mention. And for the record, I have not grown any taller. That is actually the most mention-worthy item on my list; I do lead a stale routine daily. Oh and this blog. I started it this year. I tried writing stuff which could garner reasonable readers but ended up spiraling back into my usual pattern of alienating everyone who accidentally clicked on this unfortunate blogspace. Maybe it's time for another reboot? Or maybe I should just give it up? I know there's a difference between the two but I always end up with the wrong one. Only 50 posts this year, the entire 12 months of it too. So, I've got bloody uplifting statistics to boot.

Frankly, I can barely recall what happened in my life this very year much less that crappy subject filled with facts requiring nothing but dead memory power. I'm so fucked.

| Why do you cry at endings? There are no true ends. Each end bring about a new beginning and they are so much closer than you realize.

Fire.

Another year forced into perspective, right at the end. An evaluation of  yourself in the past year, in every single aspect. Unknowingly pressured into reflecting upon oneself, finding flaws and mistakes. Then, from a long lists of fuck ups and regrets, comes an even longer one filled with hopes and aspirations for the coming new year. But for one to really change, one needs to be focused and resolved. There can be not a single moment's respite; from henceforth there will only be perseverance, ignited by an inconspicuous spark. Sweeping over the entire world, engulfing everything in a fiery inferno, consuming all that is naught.

| Believe, is a beautiful fire, burning out your fears.

I'm the reason I can't have nice things.

That's probably the longest post title I ever came up with; at the advent of this blog, I tried giving longer titles to my posts; inevitably, I fell back to the habit of donning one word for each post, it does feel so much more mysterious and intriguing, no? At least, it does to me. Titles are important, they point out the main idea of your posts, they give a sense to your (non-existent) readers as to what to expect of the barrage of words they're about to dive into. My problem is that I lose track of my idea two sentences into the paragraph, just writing myself into oblivion when I'm talking about donuts at the start.

Alright so, donuts. I realized one of my many flaws mid-sentence, this very sentence, is that I tend to write out posts based entirely upon conversations and dialog the exact way I play them out in my head. That's gonna be bad, I think. Not to mention the fact that I don't really have any nice conversations in there either. No wonder I still can't write good readable stuff.

Reading back the previous incarnation of my blog, there's just so much nostalgia, just floating around, suffocating me. It has ten times the number of posts; many bitterness, some sweetness, a bittersweet collective of my high school years. With a couple press of a few buttons, I deleted that. Why? There's probably some heart breaking and gut wrenching back story here but I won't share, because I'm dark and cryptic that way. lol.

Just kidding, I don't know why either.

Why?

We wake up each day, and begin facing our problems anew, be it yesterday's burden or today's woe. Do you see yourself in the mirror when you head into the bathroom to brush up? Really see, not just look, the person with looking back at you; messy hair, puffy eyes and the generally groggy look on your face. You look and you'd try to straighten up, splashing cold water onto your face, to see clearly. Why? What is it that you expect to see, looking back at you?

But perhaps, you barely even have time to squeeze toothpaste for brushing, much less admire your reflection in the mirror; rushing to work, late for classes, and all the reasons in the world which gave us a sense of urgency when in reality, there is none at all. Ask yourself - are you really that excited to get to work/class or whatever routine that which occupies your everyday lives? We'd walk hurriedly all the time, spending a gross amount of time commuting, not sparing a glance at everyone else and just trying to reach where we want. There is little to no regard at all to any living person around us, its as if we're living in a post-apocalyptic world filled with nothing but zombies, dronebies if you will.

None of us realize that it is entrapment, meant to ensnare each and everyone of us for the rest of our lives. Much like the worker bee whose entire life cycle revolve around serving the colony and nothing more. In our case, we think that who we serve is ourselves, at least we like to think so. Make no mistake, we are all servants because as Loki says, we all yearn subjugation. We serve willingly, whether if we're aware of it or not; boss at work, teachers giving out assignments, etc. From the moment we start our lives, the brainwashing began, perpetual and it would seem to me now, highly effective; we have to work for a livelihood, otherwise we'd be living on the streets, eating off scraps and basically just being dirty.

I'm not saying that we should all stop studying and working because that would cause any semblance of a working society that we have today to collapse. And anything that collapses has to be a bad thing, unless you're playing Jenga or something. I'm merely posing the question of why?

Mortals.

Whether we'd like to admit or not, in the end, we're just mortals. Destined for greatness but designed to die.

I guess I still haven't reach that age when I truly begin to contemplate my own mortality; when, where, how, who and all the big questions. But these few days of cold solitude led me thinking - what if I just hit the end the road, right here and now? Take two fingers and pinch out the flame, in a way of saying.

Did I do what I really wanted? Did I achieve what I set out to do? Am I on the right track? All these questions left unanswered as I laid lifeless on bed, sweating my veins out, asking an unseen deity what have I done to deserve such suffering. Like sifting sands, they come and go as the wind blows and I clean forgot the answers, if any.

We're all going to die one day. How do we make it, before we checkout? I guess it just makes sense that nothing really matters, because in the end we all just return to the singularity, the point where we didn't existed in the first place, eventually forgotten by the ravages of time. Everything we work now is for naught then?

If it is so, then life is itself life's greatest joke but I refuse to see it so because we live in the present and that makes whatever we choose to do now matters the most to us. Of course there will always be the past to dwell on and the future to worry about but that's another post for another time of self reflecting and much more, so much more.