#oh this will be a print for CF19

[salmonrainy]

taken by the styx 🩸

[viyagari]

It’s Really One of Those Years, Eh?

I couldn't log in to Dreamwidth for some reason, so I had to go here.

First writing in 2025 and finally, an update for idk how long since I neglect my account.

It’s 5 AM, on the first day of 2025. I was forced to wake up by the sound of my cat’s auntie wailing at the door, begging for breakfast. Apparently, the door connecting the main room and the garage was opened. For a night, she was the queen of the house. I tricked her to go back to the garage and closed the door. Her reign was over. My dawn had just begun.

In a manner I found unbefitting even for my standard, I sat down and opened my laptop. As my senses started to come back to me, I typed this…essay? Confession? Whatever you call it. There’s something that I needed to let out.

What I wanted to say was…

2024 was a weird year for me.

A fact I believe nobody would be surprised about. Everybody knew last year was kind of a shitshow. Everybody was kind of unsure if this year things would stay the same, in terms of shittyness. There were so many, too many, bad things happening simultaneously. Everything, everywhere, all at once even.

A shitshow as dark as a blindfold over my eyes, our eyes.

Last year took its toll out of me, irl-wise. Right when I started to feel my age. Projects were hard to come. I made even less than the previous year. Worst election in my whole life, and even worse pre-election campaign months. Brain drain on the media, even more heinous brain drain on the internet. Kept my eyes on Gaza, the Palestinians suffered more than I did of course.

At one point, I thought perhaps it was easier to start over your country from zero. My country refused to die, yet somehow it always found a way to make things worse for itself. It kept dragging its rotten body like a zombie, and all of us who were trapped inside it.

My parents accused me of wanting the country to collapse when I debated them about the treatment of Rohingya refugees and the government’s inaction. You know what, maybe that’s right. Maybe I really wanted my country to collapse after all.

This stupid blind nationalism. Polarization even among those who were supposed to resist the government’s oppression. Police brutality went bolder for all eyes to see. Didn’t they realize that Kanjuruhan massacre was just two years ago? Oh who was I to say? Just blame the wind. Case closed.

Human tend to recall bad memories much easier than it is for good memories. It’s a part of our instinct. That’s how our ancestors survived in the wild. Little did they know it would also be the source of anguish for their successors.

This primordial instinct blinded me, and I was forced to navigate the year by haplessly feeling around. The pressure was crazy. Perhaps I’m starting to feel the psychological toll of living through the pandemic.

If you think my hyperfixation and the internet were my salvation during tough times, you’d be… I want to say “you’d be wrong”, but “you’d be right” is also valid.

I still had my DayTez hyperfixation. Past!me would’ve never written this much and made two fanbooks and a half (free paper fic). This counted as good memory. All the doujins and merchs and the printing put some pressure on me financially. And this was the bad memory, but it was entirely my fault.

First time attending Comifuro as a participant. Good memory.

Not selling even one book. Bad memory, but it was quickly offset when someone bought one on CF19 PO period.

Decided to commit to write fic in Indonesian. Bad memory, ‘cause I narrowed down my readership scope when I’m not even a big name ficcer. But it was also a good memory, once I realized that I could still write in Indonesia.  

Bought a new laptop. Now I could work faster and I don’t have to struggle with outdated software. Good memory. The new laptop put a pretty significant dent in my savings. Bad memory.

Finally returned to Jakarta and met my friends. Finally got to try that Mexican restaurant and took a lot of oshikatsu pics. Finally left the house to take a temporary breather. Good memories.

Fell ill halfway through the month and for most of the time I couldn’t go to as many places that I wanted. Felt bad because I couldn’t take my friends to the Mexican restaurant because of that damn sore throat & decided to stay in one place. Awful, awful memories.

The list could go on, but I should stop before it went nowhere.

I’m thinking about cool phrases to end this nonsense. I couldn’t think of one. Maybe leaving it without one is the best option. Truth is, I still have my blindfold on. I could pry it open, puffed up my chest, and said, “Maybe there’ll be more good things next year.”

But I have my doubts. I don’t think next year will be easier for me or anyone. That alone is another blindfold to replace the one I pried open.

I guess I will still be stumbling and feeling my way up for I don’t know how long.