I should have been posting this on the 1st of January, but I was too busy being overwhelmed by the events that took place at a nightclub 1km away from where I live.
Despite that any last bit of hope for this country has been sucked out of my system by a man with a kalashnikov, I am thankfully still alive, and still breathing through the cracks of the walls that are closing in on us.
Living here is paradoxical. There’s so much irony trapped in that one word: living. Because are we really? Biologically, yes. But am I actually doing anything extra as to living? I cannot even wander the streets without the possibility of exploding into a million pieces crossing my mind. I speak of it comically because there’s really no other way, unless you want to lose your mind completely.
Then I think about Syria, or even just eastern Turkey and I realize how pathetic my thoughts are in comparison. They live in death. They live in rubble. They live in the remainders of what used to be.
I am digressing. What I’m getting at is, I have to keep living. We have to keep living. Our hearts have to keep beating. Because there simply is no other way. I will not go about as if nothing has happened, but the more they try to take my hopes away the more I will hope and the stronger I will dream of a better place and of better days.
So here’s to my new year’s resolutions:
- Live and live more.
- Love and love more.
- Write and write more.
- Embrace the woman that I am and that I am constantly becoming.
- Take photos.
- Never stop until your heart stops beating.