Woohoo…. New year….

 

I almost felt bad for not feeling the exuberating  joy of wanting to toast, laugh and kiss for a happy new year, until I saw Ramon his face.

 

His was exactly the same as mine.

 

I started to cry.

 

I’m sorry I am crying, I can’t get the words ‘Happy new Year’ out of my mouth. It doesn’t feel like it’s going to be a Happy new year. I hate this new year to come. It will be desperately trying to keep our heads up, staying positive and fight like hell. No deranged resolutions to make and brake to start all over again next New Year’s eve, no sunny funny holiday to plan, only despair. When will I stop living this new year, or when will I stop living? Both feel equally frightful. Don’t want to die, but don’t want to lose living and enjoying life as well.  And I already dread the first days of January, where I gracefully have to thank people for their wishes of a Happy new year, and  especially the Good Health wish. I know it’s meant well, it has become some kind of a automaticity to say, because it’s written on all the Hallmark cards. And they are like written on the stones of Moses, so you have to obey. But it’s so mean saying it to someone where you know there isn’t any Good Health. Why don’t they say ‘Stay Strong’ instead? That is a wish more wanted than something you can never obtain.

 

Fuck Happy New Year!!!

…….

          

And I don’t want to make a toast on this fucking year to come! Also.

 

All these words got stuck in a tear. Didn’t say them out loud. I raised my glass to clink, when the same tear rolled down Ramon’s cheek. I didn’t have to say them out loud.

 

‘Cheers.’

 

We said to each other while we clinked our glasses, letting out a big sigh. In the background the night sky was lit up by beautiful fireworks, and through the loud bang you heard laughter and happiness from the people outside. It all was so loud, and yet so far away.

 

We hugged each other real tight, and many tears that we had built up this day, started to mingle between our cheeks, and provided some comfort.

 

‘Let’s watch another episode of Heroes.’ We smiled and nodded at each other, and filled up a new glass of wine.

 

We made a good day for ourselves. This was not to be a jolly one to share with others. So we stayed at home, unplugged the phone, played World of Warcraft, and puttered around in the kitchen. We even went to the beach to unwind some of Malha’s energy, she had built up in her puppy skin, all of these days doing exactly as much as sick Kuzco.

 

 

It was cold, stormy, and it was raining, not your average nice walk,

 

 

but somehow this was the nicest part of the day. Maybe it was just happy little Malha, who turned the sharp icy whippings of the wind hitting our faces, into a nice distraction of the already much to many words of desperation, fear and sadness, bottled up in the tear that was pressing in our eyes.

 

 

This was a good day, under the circumstances. Maybe today, the first day of 2018, will be another one. I will just take it one day at a time.

 

 

 

 

 

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