cookie.

Cookie.

I’m a hoarder, a very big one indeed, with a designated trunk full of broken trinkets and junk that’s utterly useless. It’s not a sacred treasure chest I try to hide either; by all means, if you’d like to take a look and dig through, be my guest. But even the closest friends were rather puzzled by the contents of that very box.

Scraps of fabric and snipped up ribbons.

Rocks and untethered clumps of clay.

Crumpled up paper torn from incoherent notebooks.

Seashells and dead flowers, some of which so dry and delicate that if you were to hold it unproperly, it’d brittle away into ashes that may even rival dust itself.

Though photographs are still understandable, everything else just seems rather random.

But it’s the little things that honestly hold a much greater value.

At least to me.

For those are the truer and most precious treasures one could ever have.

Memories.

They’re what define you and mould you into the very being that stands so strong-

And yet so brittle-

Resembling the roses slowly decaying within my box.

However, if you presume every memory I hold to be but wonderous, well you couldn’t be farther from the truth.

And if you think I have handpicked an equal proportion of good and bad, you are also mistaken.

Let us use your average chocolate chip cookie for reference.

What is it?

One would simply say it’s sweet; but there’s more to that, wouldn’t you say?

It’s got a crispy outer layer, centred with soft and delicate fudginess.

Each pocket of chocolate is a cavern of blissful joy that melts within your mouth as it comes fresh from the oven. Every bite mimics a new adventure. Not to mention the dusty sprinkle of sea salt on the top, giving you that tingling feeling that make you question your own tastebuds.

And to go even further; I bet you, it’d bring back perhaps a memory. God bless if they were propitious but picture a cookie in which holds painful sorrow.

Something so beautiful and yet at the same time so terrifyingly sad.

Maybe the thought of your mother, or your grandparents who are no longer present, making your heart swell in bittersweet loneliness.

Maybe it brings you the thought of home. Not a house, but a home, a place where you truly find yourself found, as though you belong. Surrounded by people whom you love and cherish the most. A home could even be a place you’ve never been before, says a good friend of mine-

One that I surely do miss.

She too loved my cookies in fact she always yearned a batch. And it’s pitiful to think it’ll be more than a little while before she’ll ever get a bite as we binge through Harry Potter once again.

Because this was what 2020 had taken away from me. It had broken me like never before. And just as I’ve mentioned, I’ve never been one to believe that anything can be just good or bad.

Everything is just another big cookie.

But 2020 made me feel like I couldn’t another bite.

This was the year that’s shown me a great amount of pain and sorrow I could have never foreseen. And though the events in which occurred this year had a part to play, it was never truly the cause of my calamity. There was so much to blame, but no one at fault but myself and my inability to control my own passions and emotions.

For if ever I could go back, would there have been anything that I could, or perhaps would have changed? Anything to ensure my happiness within this current present and coming future?

Funny isn’t it? Here I am to dwell yet again in my past, thinking of the different what ifs though I was meant to write of my preparations and how I will be dealing with the matters of 2021.

Because the truth is that. As horrific as that year was, there is nothing I would absolutely change of it, for it has prepared me for my journeys of 2021.

For every decision I’ve made, though they be painful or reluctant has led me to become the strong woman I am now. One to take action and stand firm for what I truly believe in.

For every time I’ve fallen, and to this I don’t mean an ordinary bump in the road.

Every time I’ve wanted to give up.

Every time I’ve desired freedom- but not the good kind.

Every time I’ve wanted to end things-

To leave-

To be rid of this wretched life-

Every ounce of suffrage and trauma I’ve dealt with has only fed me with strength, patience, empathy, and bigger will to live. And I’ve come to understand that to truly live, the torturous pains I’d experience were necessary. All this time I strove towards perfectionism and prosperity, constantly shaming myself of my flaws until I’d realised, I had been a little too hard on myself. And only after taking this into account, I start to truly understand and enjoy the meaning of life and what is to come for the future. Not meaning that I daydream of multiple possibilities, but that I embrace every single day with meaning, taking every small bite with patience. I no longer struggle in fear but instead unravel whatever is offered before me and accept it with everything that I’ve got. For everything is just another small cookie, and each cookie will never be the same. I understand that some occasions may wound me or perhaps drive me mad. Whenever something, or perhaps someone may hurt me. Of course, as I write this, several people come into mind, for being acquainted to such burdens will be a challenge of tolerance. I’m not sensitive. Really, I’m not. But there are certain things that can really push my buttons.

And if anyone were to question and judge me for my inadequate affairs with my memorable cookies, then I shall take offence.

Many find it rather odd to constantly dwell within your past when the correct option is to move on. It is a new year, and I should be a new me, but honestly does that truly exist in reality? Who on earth decided on what is correct? For one, I do understand that those who constantly live in their history and dwell on their unchangeable decisions may have it harder to grasp onto the future.

But it really does depend on how one may perceive it.

Though I hold onto my painful memories and in fact revisit them, I no longer feel pain. Maybe a bit of grief, but only like those you feel when watching a sad film. It will never bother me anymore, even when it is brought up. Such as when I went through great depression, and to those of you who’ve been through my pain will know the horrors of that cavernous dark hole our mind sinks into. It was so deep and painful; I could barely eat. I lost nearly 20 pounds back then, and coming back out of that hole was a difficult task.

Not to mention the loved ones I’ve lost to the virus last year. It’s funny really, because I am religious and it’s particularly evident to the naked eye. And everyone I encounter has told me to pray. To pray for my wellbeing. To enrich myself of religion when I in fact do. Now for this, let me explain. I am one to view trauma as bullet holes, and prayers as bandages and painkillers. Believe me, praying helps. Believing and having faith that all will be gives me the leisure I need. However, there’s no denial that the bullet is still within you, and no amount of bandages and painkillers will be pointless if all you do is conceal your pain, only for it to resurface once more. It must be extracted, and you can only do that by fishing it out. You must let out that pain for it to finally be gone. For if you supress it, it will never leave. I’ve learned to be braver and embrace my pain, and to admit that though I’m strong, I can still be brittle, and that is just fine. And though I’ve lost so much and so many people I hold dear to me-

Though it hurt to say goodbye, the joy of their memories linger and build upon me strength for the future.

And that it what I aim for the future, that is what I aim for 2021. To be the strengthen myself both physically and mentally. To be kinder to my heart and soul, for no one can ever do that for me but myself. Otherwise, everyone I’ve lost would die in vain. Otherwise all the pain from last year would be meaningless. Because 2020 was difficult. But I got through it.

We got through it.

We’re alive, and still fighting.

Thinking back, I see all the pain none other than tough cookies.

For if we were to be literal, 2021 is nothing but an extension of our previous life. it with the wisdom of 2020, any challenges I face will be welcomed with open arms.

Someone dear to me had once mentioned,

“Happiness is what you want it to be- well here I am, helping my father mow lawns for nine hours. The heat is one thing, but it’s being and feeling lost that really gets me. But I’m happy. And blessed. And it’s all because I choose to be.”

He was the sweetest young man, and a handsome fella too.

And now doing the extravagantly large pile of dishes, I think “How blessed I am with the food on my table”.

For all the times I’ve been yelled at, my word- at least my parents are healthy.

I have a loving family, despite losing a member.

We grow stronger and closer everyday despite our conflicts.

We are a team, with an angry coach if I must say, but it’s not a matter.

What I will do within the following year will be better than the last-

Because I choose to make every day worth living. Every day a little bit happier.

To never go to sleep in pain, and to start the day with a smile.

Because at the end of the day, everything will be nothing more than a memory.

Hence, bring me a glass of milk. It’s time for another bite.