I was thinking long and hard whether I should be posting this in the first place.
But I guess I'll just let this sit here till I feel like taking it down.

This is the initial unedited version of my reflection of the year 2015. Away from those who know me personally, yet made public for the world to potentially chance upon as I post this on my rather private, inactive blog.

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This Year I…

Spent my new years overseas

Grew closer to old friends

Strengthened relationships with people who were just once acquaintances

Got to know a lot of new people

Started attending cell group again

Turned 21

Received a gift I had wanted for, literally, years

Worked out more than usual

Visited places I never imagined I would

Pushed myself to speak up more

Rekindled my interest in music

Learnt to cook more dishes

Written my first research paper

Improved my CAP tremendously

Had reaffirmed certain choices made

Open my heart up

Was inspired again

Felt an inexplicable peace

Felt joy beyond what words could have described

Witnessed the beauty of creation reveal itself.

And yet, this year I…

Spent my Chinese new year apart from my family

Encountered the recurring stress of academics

Seen the sorrow of others, through their eyes

Grown apart from some people

Questioned other choices

Had countless sleepless nights

Had an unequivocal number of dreams and nightmares ever

Was riddled with uncertainties

Lacked motivation

Felt small
Felt a loneliness that could last a lifetime

Doubted my philosophies and existence

Was at my most vulnerable yet

Probably cried the most I ever had

Lost my faith in humanity

Experienced a raw immense pain that cringed my heart

Was disappointed time and time again

Felt time slow down to a crawl.

As I am reflecting on the past year, I am reminded of something I had read awhile back from the Tale of Genji

On the contrary, it happens because the storyteller’s own experience of men and things, whether for good or ill has moved him to an emotion so passionate that he can no longer keep it shut in his heart. Again and again something in his own life or in that around will seem to the writer so important that he cannot bear to let it pass into oblivion. There must never come a time, he feels, when men do not know about it.

I had wished to experience the polarity of emotions I’ve seen in others. This was the year all that came to be, the good and bad. I am moved to a point I can no longer keep this shut in my heart as I write this in the dead silence of the cold dark night. I sit here solemn in contemplation of all the things I’ve done, all the things I would have, could have and should have done. Oh how happiness seems so shallow and ephemeral, yet sadness has a deep resonance that echoes through time’s eternity. And yet, with a humbled heart, knowing of what has come to pass, we will drudge on through life as always hoping for the best.