New year, holiday-cheers, and the contemplations of a sleep-deprived

If it weren’t for the lively techno music, the revving noises of motorcycle engines, and the holiday screams from the people outside, I would’ve slept through New Year’s Eve.

Everything took longer to sink in than I expected. My mind was hopeful, but my heart was screaming in skepticism.

Too many questions. Too many things to ponder. Too many memories to reminisce. Too many nightmares to forget. Too much rubbish to unclutter.

I was in a state of doubt, in denial of what’s about to come. Overthinking made it even worse. I am clouded by what seems to be my trauma of new beginnings.

What day is it? Am I obliged to jot down my list of resolutions for the coming year? What will become of me in the coming days — of us? Will I be still be loved? Will I love?

What happens to a calendar after you cross out the last day of December? Do you toss it straight to the bin or keep it tucked in a safe place until you’re ready to let go?

Wait. Letting go? Why do we need to let go? I suck at letting go.

How do you start anew?

If you think about it, isn’t New Year just a symbolic holiday where we pretend that we’ve changed, moved on, and forgotten about the past even if we didn’t?

Firecrackers.

Disco Music.

Media Noche.

Year-end family pictures.

These are the markers that tell us that we somehow made it through the year. We were all wounded but alive, floored but breathing, beaten up but twice stronger.

Ah yes. It’s another year to run the race better. To fight better. To train better. To overcome more. To love more. To grow more. To outdo your bests.

But it isn’t all about the positives.

It’s also another year to endure. To lose people. To break our knees — our hearts too. To cut ties with the ones that hurt us. To make ends meet so that we can make it through to the year again.

Now, as I write to close this contemplation, I am left with a question in mind.

How do I stay alive for next year’s lively techno music, revving noises of motorcycle engines, and the holiday screams?

I wonder.

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