It’s just another new year’s eve.

I hate to burst someone else’s bubbles but I think I would not like to celebrate the New Year’s Eve. It feels that although we are complete, we are broken. Although we stand firm, we’re disabled. Although we keep smiling, our hearts were bleeding. Although we have faces to show people, I bet, that's not always the real us. If it was just me, there’s no reason to celebrate, at all.

People won’t understand where I am coming from and they wouldn't even take a step back. Never would I have experienced such atrocity in my heart before, painfully killing my soul and tearing it into pieces.

During these moments, I would rather be busy than being calm; rather be preoccupied than abandoned. It would be better to forget oneself than endure the chaos inside.

I am miserable and disoriented now. Everything plays randomly on my mind and I don’t know which to shut down and which to start. Mess, that’s what I am.

Sooner or later, I would forget about these things. Years from now, I would feel detachment from every painful memory. Things would never be better, things change, and all we could hope for is a good change. I wish I could forget bad memories, even if they taught me how to be strong, I wish I could forget them, and everything included in them. But that would be impossible. Teaching oneself to be strong is too courageous, because you can never do that, only the other could.

I am broken and no one can ever fix me, but me.

Again, it’s just another new year’s eve. The next year is bound to come, full of hopes and challenges…full of new sentiments and vows, and full of new people to learn from and live by.