Today, I was walking down the lit streets of my cousin’s home and realized that the sky looked a bit different. Rather than its usual orange streaking through the dulling blue, it was a fluttering purple mixing into a blue that seemed to brighten with every step I took. Perhaps it was my eyes playing tricks at me, or perhaps the sky had become a mirror that reflected the several tiny lights, small suns made by hands that pushed it to brighten. I hunted for the moon, and there it was; a constant, shining deeply into the colour. It was barely seen, yet my eyes could spot its growing light in an instant. Around me, the world started to flutter awake for the last eve of a year; the pizza shops burst open with yellow light, people best dressed began to move around. My friends posted about parties on their Instagram stories, the world rose to welcome it. And I, I just kept making wishes.
2021 was more of a Murakami book than any other year was: it felt like a billion questions barraging me all at once, to which I had no answer apart from “wait a minute”. I waited- as I gave my practicals and studies began to burn me- for a better universe to scoop me away to its terrain. Which could have been kind. Which could have been gentle. Which could have been me. The globe felt like a shore I could never cross, a never-ending ocean of storms that refused to recede no matter what I did, as I grasped at the oars that looked like they would splinter. Nevertheless, I raged on and reached the shore. I remember the night of my board results being announced: I remember the soft feeling of skin shedding down my legs. I felt like a new person. I felt like I’d become someone far from childhood, close to adulthood.
An adult-child, my brain whispers and I shove it down. I’ll deal with that.
I started my Medium, my first ever blog. It arose from desperation, a need to share my thoughts, my ideas to the world. A world that seemed as big as our sun, where I was an inconsequential speck of belief. Looking back, 2015 me- the me who had started to write- would have been very overwhelmed. But me, this myself; I placed a blind faith on this universe. On the desk of its domain, I settled my writings, words, and thoughts and told it to keep it for itself. I don’t care, keep it. Remember my footprint, my palms on your floor, rubbing you. Remember this girl of seventeen, because I will be bigger perhaps. From my first article on Giovanni’s Room by James Baldwin to listening to the inner voices of Agust D’s “The Last and even the English singles of BTS: I felt like I’ve grown a mile within myself. I’ve really grown.
There’s Twitter: a space I share with very dear friends, where I consider everyone to be someone I know closely. I’ve grown from having few to gaining a lot of friends I cherish. It can get very stressful at times, but to me it’s been a place I go to every day to talk to people: to get to know their lives, to discover things that we love together. It’s on there that I’ve found my writing grow into something that people appreciate. As a person who’s lived their entire life feeling like an outsider for being able to feel words this closely, watching my friends over there feel my words resonating with them and loving them brings me so much happiness and love. And I’m eternally grateful for the friends I have, and for the friends I had. There are days where I think about some of the friends I’d let go of over here, over my own heart feeling a bit uncomfortable with them. I’m sorry, because there are days where I think of you. Even if these words don’t reach you, I am thinking about you. And I’m keeping my best wishes for you. To everyone who reads my words, my gratitude.
As this year ends, I can only think of the dawn. I wonder whether when I look at the clock turning twelve, I’d be able to see the rising sun, pulling itself out of the hug of the night. I wonder whether the sun knows that we’re looking at its dawn with eager hope. I think it might. This year’s sun might have set already, but please remember there’s another sun on the side, waiting for you. 2021 was indeed a hard year for many of us, but as Namjoon said once, everything goes. And I believe that everything does indeed go, because the dawn is different from the dark. You can see your reflection in the light, and you’ll realize that your body is hoping, like it does every time it looks into the rays. This year, I hope 2022 is the dawn you’ve been waiting for. I hope the dawn brings into your life hope, kindness, and most of all, happiness. I want you all to be happy, even if there’s nothing professional. Happiness is a sufficient goal.
I’ll see you on the side of the dawn. Why, you ask?
“Because the dawn right before the sun rises is the darkest.”
Thank you for being here, dear readers. Thank you. Please stay happy and healthy. Happy New Year.
this letter made me smile, thank you. may 2022 be a year with either less waiting or more patience to wait!!!
happy new year, thank you for your words. <333