Two
weeks more and another year will end. I don't exactly know how to
describe the year that was. Had I been happy?
Well, my share of anxiety and insecurities are greater it seems.
The only consolation is I survived it all.
I
made no accomplishment whatsoever. It still was and is the same old
me. I have been either too afraid or complacent to get out of my
comfort zone. I am as always stuck on this mud that I so much hate.
On the other hand, I
guess I am still one hell of a lucky son of a bitch. I am still
non-reactive. I am glad that two of my friends in college are
also negative. We are due to have another test by February next year.
But I fucked him unsafe this morning. I know. Such stupidity.
That
is exactly what is wrong with. I have no self-control at times. No
discipline. This year alone I think I attempted to quit smoking
three or four times. I am still the same nicotine addict that I am.
The thing is, and this had been my excuse for the longest time, this
is the only vice I have. This is the only way I can "bond" with my
other office mates. When we go down to smoke, that is the only time
we can talk some other stuff other than work. And some other stuff
that is not supposed to be shared with other peeps.
I
am 35 years old and I feel so old. Never felt this when I was 34.
For crying out loud I will be 36 by next May of next year. This
worries me a lot. And so does my big belly. The latest pair of jeans
I bought is already size 36! No I am not that fat-looking. All these
unwanted fats are concentrated on my midsection that I almost look
like pregnant. Heck I bet if is still have long flowing locks, people
will think I am with a child and that I have a womb.
So
there. That basically sums up my 2015. A year that I was depressed
most of the times.
