It’s probably too impulsive to say but I think 2014 just isn’t going to be my year. If it’s any indication, I had the worst New Year’s Eve celebration ever, not that I could really call it a celebration. The mood was not even close to what one would consider festive. Though fireworks lit the sky and bangs and booms from firecrackers filled the air, all I could really concentrate my mind on was the heavy pouring rain which seemed never to stop and my mother who have been sick after the end of the Christmas celebration. I spend the rest of the first day of 2014 in the hospital, crossing my fingers, hoping that nothing was seriously wrong with my mom. Guess my lucky stars ain’t cruising that night as I got a direct blow to my chest with the doctor telling us that a 15cm ovarian mass has been taking shelter in my mother’s remaining ovary. Somehow it made me question why her doctor didn't remove both of her ovaries when she had an operation ten years ago because if she did, I would have enjoyed the last vacation I will get in college, considering my last semestral break had been nothing but winds and rains and chaos and darkness and Yolanda.

My life had never been picture perfect. I played it along the safe side, nothing too spectacular or challenging or boring. It has been like these for as long as I can imagine and nothing might have prepared me for something as big as a series of unfortunate events. First came Yolanda, then my mother getting an operation, a strike in my father’s company and then here goes a field trip that will cost a fortune but will save me from the hassle of doing a term paper and my phone just went on a swimming trip.  And oh, next week, the result of the biopsy will be out and this time, I’m praying it will not be cancerous. I just wouldn't know what to do with my life if that happens.

My family from my mother’s side (the issue deserves a separate post) said that me and my brother was sort of chilling’ out while we wait for the operation to be over. Little did they know I have been silently praying, asking God for my mom to be okay. I never for once shed a tear, not they saw me anyway. Nobody knew how choked I am to stop myself from crying. I had to smile and laugh. After all, I’m so good with putting up a mask that it will seem like child’s play. I only allowed myself to breakdown once. It was the time when I got the chance to go home and pack my things. Naturally, nobody was home, except me and the eerie silence and my favorite teddy bear that had dried my tears since I was in high school. It was the only time during the whole ordeal that I let myself be vulnerable. You see, I had to be strong. It wasn't the choice I made. It was something the circumstances dictated.

I don’t know how downhill things could still go from here. I am pretty much convinced that this is the lowest point in my life. It just felt like some nightmare and I badly need to wake up. Some people might say this might not be as hard as life can get, but I say this is just plain hard for me. I don’t think I can hold up for a very long time. I can see myself nearly cracking at the edge. I just can’t imagine how worse things can still get. I don’t think I have enough energy or spirit left to sustain another fatal impact. But for now, I hope things would return to normal. You know, to the not picture perfect but okay life I had always lived. And I am hoping it will happen sooner rather than later.