Tough times don't last. Good times also don't last. In short, time is a big fat bitch.
Everyone knows I'm more or less a 'Daddy's girl' (I have Sherdiputtar tattooed on me to prove the authenticity behind the claim.) And everyone who knows me knows how deeply I care for my father, so when it comes to his health I make sure I do everything possible and push beyond my capacity.
But the past 15 days was tough for our family. Our little tryst with Covid made us feel vulnerable, overwhelmed, sometimes hysterically optimistic and also resilient. Tough. A strong, firm belief that everything will be okay if we are in it together. I'm not making this post to talk in detail about what happened and what not because I genuinely don't wish to relive it, just a verbal release that it's all thankfully over now.
I also realised how I avoided talking at all about the situation to most people I'm close to. I just clammed up because I didn't want to put the burden on anyone else for listening to my woes, to the emotional roller-coaster going on inside me. So many guys that have come and gone from my life telling me to lower my expectations, looks like I took it all so seriously that today I rather not talk about my feelings at all than open up to even the closest ones. If you just said 'aww' out of pity while reading this, please stop. Again, this is just a post to write down feelings, that's all.
And also a big gratitude for those who knew about the situation and were helping out by just even listening and being supportive. A big thanks!
Another birthday is around the corner. Turning a year older, wiser and now even more so mentally stronger, thanks to the virus. Never imagined will be doing a quarantine birthday but I'm ready for any curveball now, and frankly once you complete your 20s birthdays should just be banned. There's nothing happy about your birth anymore!
