New Year’s Day

Bloody Hell, it’s 2022. Not that I care. I’ve stopped caring about many things – blogging, writing, studying, responding to emails, making travel plans. I’ve stopped looking forward to special days and events. In truth, there are no special days and events to look forward to, no celebrations, no wishes, no nothing. At the beginning, I still hope for the possibility to resume my annual travel. Now I just hope to have the courage to live through everyday. Stuck in a country cracking down on freedom of speech and worsening day by day, and an elitist institution that produces people with an ableist attitude, it feels like fighting a long-term war everyday. There is no escape from this hostile environment ever since the pandemic struck in 2020. No more vacations and holidays aren’t holidays if you can’t leave the country. They just don’t exist anymore. When I hear about people from big countries travelling inter-states and going on holidays, that just felt like a concept so alien and strange to me. I can’t read travel posts and watch travel vlogs without it reminding me of my Walden I missed. Yes, a part of me is empty because I’ve lost something important in my life and I’m still grieving. Meanwhile, the work keeps piling up, my research progress is slow and I keep missing my target deadlines. Ironically, with all the additional time I got to spend in the country, I’m still behind schedule. My excuse? I’ve no motivation. I’ve stopped caring about many things but many things still bother me – social inequalities, stigma, politics, relationships, advocacy. The world feels like a burden and I need an outlet to release the weight I’m carrying. I used to write to record the efforts I made to keep my dream alive. Now I’m taking up my pen again, but this time I write to record the efforts I made to survive in an authoritarian state – my resistance and my resilience. Welcome to Bloody Hell.

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