Herald

The fireworks weren’t as great as the previous years’. I don’t know. My favourite kind of the lot, the massive, flashy, ones that reach over your head were obscured by the bowl of the museum. The company was unfamiliar (not that I didn’t love them to bits for just being there). The air smelt like ass.

The entire day had me worrying about going to the fireworks alone. To me, the fireworks were just more than a flashy display of cash blowing up in the atmosphere (it’s really hard for that imagery to make sense for anyone). It was a physical manifestation of a new start, a period, a dropped-capital that precludes a long, long paragraph. Hope’s a rare commodity.

Was much of the previous year just… wrong? The worst semester, academically. The non-stop feeling of being just absolutely lost and flailing for a handhold. Getting fat as fuck again? The feeling of being dejected from time to time?

Then again… I had my first acting gig. I had a couple of dear, dear friends. I’m getting 2 views from the UK daily. (Thanks.) I’m learning how to not judge, and of course I caught up with Ping and An in the way that I’m finally seeing the adults that they are.

Maybe next year, I’ll post more pictures. Get everything prioritised. Save some money. Get help. Keep in touch. 

Listen more. Love myself in the way that I haven’t for too long. Love others.

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I still grinned at the very glittery, sparkly kind of firework. I like those too. Hope.