Two thousand fuckin nineteen.
What a joke! What a disgusting year this has been.
Yes it’s true, years are good and bad. It’s absolutely true. Some bear luck and prosperity and some are barren like an old witch.
I am angry at this year because it tricked me. It tricked me just like a man I loved. And only those who I love trick me.
It tricked me from the beginning, even though I started my new year in a foreign country, alone in a square full of strangers while it was snowing like a motherfucker.
And there I am, picture this, my face red from the biting cold, my eyes like 2 stars, looking at the sky and wishing the year will be good to me, and wishing that I’ll manage to be better, and get better, and do better.
Just picture a stupid face in a crowd, hoping for fairy tales. That’s how stupid I am because you know how I finished this fuckin year? Out of my damn fuckin mind.
I’m not even going to celebrate anything. I’m just gonna wait for this nightmare to be over and sleeping my way into 2020. I don’t even want to hear the fuckin countdown at midnight.
It was a deceiving year. You might think you had something good and yet it was showing you only a dark side. You have something that you care for and then boom! Makes you want to hate it.
Thank God for friends. This is all I have to say about 2019. Thank God for those who truly care about me and thank you for putting up with my instability. Thank you for continuous and unconditional support.
I lost some people too because they pushed too much. I have no tolerance for people who try to create something out of nothing. I’m done. Everybody is grown up and they should be able to deal with their own shit and not put the blame of fictional problems on others.
This year was the year I lost my mind for good. The year I decided to make major changes in my life and I panicked along the way to a point were I broke down.
The year I loved a ghost and a pretender.
The year I cried most of my tears. I cried. I cursed my life on and on. And my roots, and my fuckin destiny. And the sins I have to pay for generations. I read in the bible that the kids pay for their parents’ sins til the third generation. It makes fuckin sense.
It’s an existence of torment, of not enough or of too much, of imbalance and of bitter taste. It’s an existence where I can’t enjoy anything without paying the price.
It’s an existence where I rebel against myself sometimes just to end up punishing myself.
It’s an existence where I am good at everything and yet I’m totally useless. The confusion reached such a level that my brain sunk in an abyss that was so dark and deep that I couldn’t see shit anymore.
I needed a grasp of air, or light any fuckin thing that can get me out if it and you know what’s the saddest part?
To keep fuckin smiling like you have no worries in the world. When the soul inside you is turning to ashes and you feel like cursing the day you were born.
This year has been like fishing. And I am the fucking bait. This year has swiped the floor with me and reduced me to nothing.
And yet I keep on acting like nothing is wrong and I know that are some people who truly believe that I have no worries in my life. That I live and laugh and joke and that this is my life. Just because I don’t throw myself on the floor ripping my hair off, it doesn’t mean I’m fine. Fuck this shit! I still hear people saying “you’re a party girl”, or “you have no family so no responsibilities”, or that “everything is smooth and easy”.
I have nothing to say to you, than to open your damn narrow minds!
Or just come be in my head for one day. House of terrors is a fuckin joke.
If it was for me, I would’ve had a family and kids and a dog in the backyard. I would’ve cooked everyday and cleaned the house. I would’ve gone to work and then back to my kids and husband but that doesn’t happen to everybody and it doesn’t mean it always should.
I am just afraid of ruining somebody else’s life, that’s it. And obviously it’s a reason why it didn’t happen. Anyway this is not what bothers me the most. This is just the social pressure, so present after a certain age.
You know what else happened this year. I was afraid. Afraid of many things, I panicked. And people think I’m tough and I can handle things but I’m just broken glass. I often hear people say “I thought you were tough!” well guess what, I guess it’s all just an act. I guess we all have to do what we need to do to survive. Probably that’s why people hate me when I love them, because I’m not tough anymore, because I would do anything for them. Because I’m fucking weak for them.
This year I complained more and I’m usually the one who says things will work out. Apparently not to myself.
This year I’ve been ungrateful and selfish. And I don’t like myself like that and probably that’s why I started a war with myself.
This year even though it seems I was successful, I wasn’t.
Again, this year is a master of illusions.
I hated myself this year and I let myself go. And I hated life.
And to end up in glory my Godfather passed away on my niece’s birthday on December 20th. Isn’t life a bitch?
It’s just like you are not allowed to have problems or complain about anything anymore. It’s like your problems are not real problems and you become a stranger more and more and more. To yourself too.
It’s like I’ve been reduced to nothing. I didn’t even take myself seriously. I thought exactly what others think, that I have no real problems, that as long as you are not responsible for others you don’t count. Well I’m responsible of my own and if I can’t take care of others at least I can take care of myself. I failed to do that too. So much negative bullshit we are ready to feed ourselves in a blink of an eye.
I’m just a castaway, that’s how this year made me feel. More than ever.
I’m not wishing anything for next year. Just to keep this fuckin smile on my face. And if I’m too harsh and if I’m wrong about feeling this way I hope the new year will prove me different.
Happy new year!