on being a year older
it was days before my birthday. i wept hard, thinking i failed my dad and late mom as a good daughter, and my brother for not being such unstable-non-dependable sister, and myself for not being able to fulfill my dreams and hopes and goals. i wept again, repeating strings of "i'm sorry" until i fell asleep and my eyes are swollen the next morning.

it was weeks before my birthday. i looked at myself in the mirror and thinking of how skinny i am. how horrible my uneven skintone was. all of my scars. but then i settled to just wash my hair and put some makeup on so that i'd feel better. it did. but i still feel empty.

it was days before my birthday. i was thinking to get a cake. maybe with beer. maybe installing tinder to find any available hunk nearby. to assure that i won't spend my birthday night alone. but then my brother called and i remember to buy him burgers. at least i know who i will spend my birthday night with.

it's hours before my birthday. i'm still working. typing subtitles while thinking over the now half-empty room. my workmates have gone to better places with better salary. why am i still here? i thought to myself. it's because you haven't got your undergraduate degree. who would want a short, non-attractive girl with high school degree? i agreed. but then making mental note to work harder and get more money so i can go to college again. at least i work in job that i actually love and enjoy (no matter how shitty it can be).

it's minutes before my birthday. i'm thinking and jotting down my life goals for a better 27 year old me. i was thinking to save up and travel around the world. or be an in-house translator. i don't know. i'm writing every single goals i can think of. trying to be positive. the least i can do is to start this year in better mood.

it's my birthday. february 16th. officially 27 years old.

27. bitter. lost. lonely. hopeful.

and things are only going to be better from now on.

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