I have never liked Decembers. It is a sad and confusing time for me. Maybe it’s because I came to this world in the first week of January. So, I find this month as a self-analysis period and because I am a healthy pessimist, I find myself calling myself out on my mishaps. I have also lost loved ones during this month every time it arrives an unhealthy nostalgic feeling finds a foul taste on my emotions. But the glass is not just half empty. I like after twenty-fifth because many people have travelled there is less traffic and the weekends are quieter. And the more occasional check-ins by loved ones.
This year has been quite the challenge, the pandemic’s ripple effect cut wide from financial constraints to rethinking about our health safety. It is still noticeable we are still scratching the surface on the adverse effects the pandemic has brought. But every cloud has a silver lining. I believe a lot can be taken out of a bad situation and converted into good.
Recently, one of my favourite artists, Octopizzo released an album by the name Jungle Fever. In that joyride of melodic, nostalgic, the well-executed album is a single called “Tamaa” which speaks of how his mother would make ends meet so he could get necessities and education. I almost find it ironic why he named that song greed. He ends up thriving and becoming successful but unfortunately loses his mother. The heavy use of auto-tune provokes the sad mood of the song. But the choice of East African cum modern rap beat makes the song feel optimistic. He then dedicates the song to those who got successful when it’s too late.
Those words of his got to me, what good is fame and fortune when you do not have someone to spend it? Why are Decembers so unforgiving? Why is getting successful too late my new greatest fear? Am I losing touch with those close to me because of my passive-aggressive tendencies? How am I handling my misfortunes and overthinking? Or is my life like that of Samurai Jack, a warrior bound by fate to destroy the greatest evil but face personal hurdles that will define who he is and realise the journey instead was the needed aspect.
The results have finally arrived. What we feared has come. My mother is unwell and suddenly, every day without seeing her feels like a day lost. I have lost grasp of time. For some weird reason, nothing matters anymore. I do not have the power to dictate what to do. I am a passenger in this perilous ride of my life. And I see no one on the wheel. I am afraid and know I need to rethink everything. Or I’m just overthinking.
What month is it again?
Sighs.
“You could have the world in the palm of your hands you still might drop it.”
Mac Miller
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