08 January 2013.
At 12 midnight, my hand drifted towards my well-worn notepad and brimming pen stand on my right, and began to write.
It came as a bit of a bafflement to me that I have only counted down to 2013 at Steve & Ann's 7 days ago. It felt like weeks. I guess time flies when you're having fun, but drops dead from the sky when you're doing the entire opposite.
in 2012, I witnessed a few events. 2 of my closest friends getting engaged to be married in May and September this year, - Which reminds me, I have to start jogging tomorrow - the unification of surprising pairings and breakups of some of the greatest loves I have ever seen.
I have also experienced the excruciating pains of losing a dear friend, Mark, which made me deeply appreciate my family and friends. Well, at least for a week or 2 before I ultimately returned to wanting to strangle some of them to death or some sort. Some sort... Sort of.
I kid. I love em :)
Then came the homo sapiens of the X chromosome. In early 2012, I dabbled in a budding relationship for a couple of months after a span/self-imposed drought of 5 years. Naturally, it crashed and burned. I subsequently trampled the hearts of a few men attributed in part to my resolution of 2012- To do what makes me happy.
Not to worry though; while living the cliche of "good girls like bad boys", I got my retribution handed to me by falling in love with a good boy from the wrong timezone. I have then repaid my debts in full by tossing and turning in bed for months, tormented by false hopes, waiting on the sidelines like a famished vulture perched in wait for that malnurished coyote that just would.not.die.
That and the 8kgs I have gained since fracturing my ankle in June. So yes, my debts are paid in full.
In 2012, I have met a few bad men and a lot of good women, moved on from a job of 2 years which I'd both loved and hated, did a short stint at a friend's company, before returning to do what Jennifer Lim simply does best- Laze around the house trying to put to paper the inner ramblings of her mind, while immersing in the illusion that she is a starving wannabe writer. The weighing scale shattered that illusion to a million pieces.
Anyway. I've recently stumbled upon my dusty manuscript, 2 chapters worth of crumbling pages absconded in a makeup trunk. Blowing the dust off, I sneezed as I reached with the other hand for my first and only fanfiction, 4 pages worth of uncompleted storyline hidden behind a couple of James Marsters busts.
As I stared at them, I began to realised that, my life, such as these papers in my hand, could be very easily summarised- Incomplete, unsuccessful.
On more than a few occasions, I have been showered with praises in regards to my "talent" with languages, whether it was to compose them, understand them, or even mutilate quite a few accents. I had always reciprocated with an accepting smile and a bashful thank you, mostly to avoid the unnecessary trouble of explaining how undeserving I am of them- I have tried explaining to people that I might be smart but not that smart, since I have nothing to show for it, ad nauseam.
SO done repeating, thank you very much.
Some days I will wake up in bed stifling a gasp of fear, clutching my pillows, tucking my body into a ball and tried hopelessly to drown out the heavy banging on my door and the screening voice of Life telling me to "wake up my fucking idea" - Oh wait, that's just my mum.
I do sometimes spent many a sleepless night pondering the atrocity of my life;
28 27 years, 3 months, 5 days, and nothing to show for it. Those days, I would react to all questions and conversations in a decidedly acrimonious manner and with eyes glazed over. So sue me.
Nonetheless, I have more or less accomplished my 2012 resolution(read: paragraph 5), so I am ready to leave my somewhat self-indulgent lifestyle on the backburner(what, you think I was going to give it all up? You cray cray) and attempt to make something of this dream I have always brought up sanctimoniously.
It is with a fevered wish that I hope all my friends have stifled tears, bawled loudly, laughed madly, cursed occasionally, made mistakes, learnt, and loved deeply in 2012- Because I have.
Despite the lack of any lasting continuity, I do not regret a single thing I have done last year. Mistakes made in the past are dead. I always like to use the sentence, "You've made your bed. Now lie in it." The only thing to regret, is what might have been if you do not try. I do not aspire to be Shakespeare or Dostoyevsky, but one can hope to lead the very titillating, albeit very short, life of talented Lord John Wilmot, sans the venereal diseases.
May all of you find something in 2013 to live for. After all, we have survived 6 raptures and 1 doomsday. Celebrate life and make something of it just in case the next prediction actually comes true! For now, I am going to pick up my pen, and write.
After Death nothing is, and nothing, death,
The utmost limit of a gasp of breath.
Let the ambitious zealot lay aside
His hopes of heaven, whose faith is but his pride;
Let slavish souls lay by their fear
Nor be concerned which way nor where
After this life they shall be hurled.
Dead, we become the lumber of the world,
And to that mass of matter shall be swept
Where things destroyed with things unborn are kept.
Devouring time swallows us whole.
Impartial death confounds body and soul.
For Hell and the foul fiend that rules
God's everlasting fiery jails
(Devised by rogues, dreaded by fools),
With his grim, grisly dog that keeps the door,
Are senseless stories, idle tales,
Dreams, whimseys, and no more.
― John Wilmot