An Ode to 2015

My dear December, I want to thank your brothers and sisters for the way they have treated me this year.
January, your days were too short, but it was eventful. I managed to gain some of your courage and performed admirably in your days. I can't believe it has been too long since I last breathed you in, it felt only like a series of coffee drinking ago.

February, you were the loveliest of them all. Everything seemed to happen all at once. Sorrows and joys presented themselves. Have they been hiding within you, February? You have always been my favourite. Maybe it's because of your juxtaposition. Or perhaps you mark the moment my atoms bonded together to form my physical being.

March, you were full of nostalgia and melancholy. We accumulated enough lone long walks, cafe hoppings, and sleepy days. Your days were made of all Bibio's songs. I tried so much to store terabyte's worth of memories, but you said you were overwhelmed by it all, so you passed me along to your sister.

April, you tried so hard to make everything seem stable again, and for that I am thankful. Every single emotion that your sister provided to me gradually stored away to their respective chambers. Thank you for letting me stay sane, even though it was hard going back to a life I left when I was young and naïve.

May, you were interesting. I forgot how it felt like when I was with you, but I remember so vividly and so incredibly the emotions that you have unleashed. Maybe you couldn't keep up what your sister did, so you let me deal with reality my own way: by letting me delved in deep into my own imaginations. Though, you let me in on one secret: I have always been able to pursue my passion in writing, it's only a matter of whether or not I choose to.

June, you let me breathe again. I thought I forgot how to compute with my inability to grasp what kind of reality I should hold on to at that moment, but thank you for allowing me to feel that the reality did not shift its perception at all, that everything stayed the same, even if it was only for a fracture of a second. Your last days were filled with anticipation as well, for your brother got something in store for me that I have longed since perhaps your five cycles ago.

July, you gave me hope. There was a glimpsed of my future hidden within you. For a tenth of you, I felt like I belonged, like everything was in place. The mementos of that hidden future are safely kept within my wallet and within the walls of my bedroom, so they could remind me that you once gave me hope for a better life.

August, you showed me a little truth I did not know about myself. An insatiable appetite for physical affection that would remain alive within me unless there was someone to feed this skinhunger. An age old longing that is shared with my ancestors and descendants––my soul asking its physical representation to find reassurances in the form of touch, cells calling out other cells. My dear August, you were such an eye opener.

September, oh September! You opened up a gate for new experiences and new souls. I always thought I could never be, but here I am, thanks to you. My gratitude to you for showing me everything I never imagined before. But, you have always been interesting, haven't you? There has always been a mixture of melancholy, nostalgia, and hope in your air, and you have always thrown me off guard. I can't wait to see what's in store for me in your next cycle.

October, my dearest. You let me be innocent again; you let me cry, brawl, laugh, and be giddy. You were full of life lessons, even though you gave a lot, but you took something from me too. It was one of life's inevitabilities, but you let me say adieu. I still don't know whether these brand new familiar and strange greetings worth one adieu.

November, you moved too fast, faster than your brother January who I thought ran itself crazy with event after event that I had to attend. But you digressed, you exhausted yourself by establishing so many things, uncovering so many hidden gems, and even bringing back what were once dead––I thought that was supposed to be your brother's job. For everything, I am grateful.

And December, what can I tell you? You blessed me with countable and visible gifts, and with immeasurable and invisible love. You are the year of blessings in disguise and silver linings.

Here is to you, my dears, for accompanying me greatly in this cycle, may the best of this cycle be the worst of the next foreseeable one.