Last night I was thinking about whether or not I was ready to re-live my seemingly dead life. It's the "dead moon" anyway. So I let out my undead question of the year: Am I afraid of living?

Looking back the word "living for today" is the shame I carried. Before knowing I got ADHD, I was puzzled why I wasn't allowed to watch TV (hello, stimulations overload). The unclear instruction brought a deep shame that I should never enjoy my life. Finishing movies seems like a chore. I could remember a handful list of movies and series I didn't finish. Another laundry list for books that is not yet finished. Then another list of videos I haven't finished. Along with podcasts simply because I was bored. The dopamine kicks in a little bit too late and I forgot to take my meds as well. I just took it a few minutes ago. And people expect me to be "normal". To get married. To have a stable job. To live "normally" might never be my option and to think about marriage actually repulses me. You mean, being cheated on then completely silent about it then resent my husband who got a stroke years after just like my bude? Or constantly fighting over the same things and secretly wishing for miracles to fix everything then asking other man to elope just because a divorce is shameful just like my parents? Or maybe happy marriage only blessed with a special need child, then getting into work that constantly robbed the sleeping hours? Or a happy marriage (seemingly) and childless but constantly tired? Not me. Not that I am better than them but it's a choice to live with their term. I can see that people live through their own lens. Of course, people want to be happy but if people see through my lens, they might get dizzy. I have prescribed lenses special for me, literally. Figuratively, my happiness cannot be measured by what neurotypicals think what happiness is.

For the time being, I can say I am happy. I'm nourished and prosperous. I am in the position that I can say "nah, that's not for me" with independence and dignity. I can break my bubble safely. Sitting with my own discomfort. Feeling fear and allowing it to pass. Then hope again. I let the fit in part died. Allowing my authentic self to thrive.

If I think about it, I made a New Year post the first time I made this blog. I crafted the post. I really thought about it. I opened my dictionary. I was trying to convince that hey, I used English perfectly. Then I saw it again and found a lot of grammatical error. The second language learner screamed so loud over there and I'm proud that I did what I did. Everything that I have now is not ideal but somehow fits me. I enjoy living the true life that I have now. It is not a platform. It is just a nothingness through the vast internet posts. If people searched my blog, they might not. I'm here but at the same time I'm not here. Maybe I leave traces. Who knows. I'm literally nobody. I live in the world where everything is actually crumbles. The economy, the politics, the people. Only a sheer hope holds me. Maybe tomorrow will be better. Like it always has been. Hopefully.