2018’s been good to me so far.
Every year, we write about the things we want to change, improve, and remove from our lives. People are hopeful, believing in new beginnings. And year after year, we tend to fail in achieving these unattainable goals we set for ourselves. I for one don’t believe in having these resolutions. It’s so attached to the idea of the New Year that even only after a few days or months passed, people have already given up or even forgotten about them. I guess we can say that resolutions only work when it’s within the proximity of the New Year. So for me, I don’t want to make a resolution. I rather make a promise to myself.
Looking back, I had a great 2017. Sure there were quite a few setbacks, but still, there were more moments of triumphs to offset those. And one things for sure, it was a lot better than 2016.
40 days have passed since you’re gone. Days I can’t help but think of you. Days I can’t help but mull over the past 6 months that had passed between the last time I saw you, and the day you died. Days when I have to find the courage to accept that you’re gone. That you’re really gone for good.
I still remember the feeling I had that Thursday morning when I woke up late. It was a cold rainy morning, and the moment I opened my eyes, I knew something was wrong. The day just feels so heavy, and I can’t really explain how, and what I felt. Until that very afternoon.
A tribute to a beloved friend.
I’ll miss your laugh
Our empty conversations and nonsense talks
I’ll miss that gait
Of how intimidating it was when you walk
I’ll miss our time alone
No awkward silence when we run out of words to say
I’ll miss our private jokes
About my hair and my nicknames you once gave
I’ll miss a lot of things about you
But I’ll miss the you who stood by me
When I can’t
When no one else did
I’ll miss you, Jorge
A part of me died with you
I’m not going to say goodbye
Rather, “See you soon.”
You can rest in peace now, Jorge. All the pain is gone. I’ll always cherish your stories – the ones you entrusted to me, the ones no one else knew but me. I always have regretted the pain I gave you when you didn’t deserved them. I will always feel guilty about those. I am sorry. You’ll always be a part of me because it’s only you who understood me when I shut the world out. You never left, you never did. Until now. I’ll miss you. We all would.
There’s something about Lorde’s Melodrama that I can’t put my finger on. It’s been three weeks since the album came out, been on – repeat since, and still, I can’t seem to get tired of it. It’s a great body of work with each song telling its part of a story to complete the loose narrative of a night out, the metaphor Lorde used for young adulthood, and the emotions associated with it. And as I was browsing YouTube for Lorde’s performances for her set in the Roskilde Festival in Denmark, I was lucky enough to find one for The Louvre, one of the standout tracks from Melodrama.