2014 was a year of change for me. It may sound cliché but fuck—

  •  from an almost blind person, I can now see clearly without my thick-lens eye glasses [thanks to lasik eye treatment and my parents who paid for it];
  • after two long mournful years, I already did the post-break-up haircut, as in ‘from long hair to ultimately short’ haircut with matching bright hair colour;
  • my ever beloved choir got dissolved, I got in the Papal Mass choir, and joined a new church choir in a new Parish;
  • I moved to another publishing company—the big move from a small newspaper to a bigger newspaper with a bigger mansion-like office;
  • I finally gave in to one of the temptations of social media and created an instagram account [follow me: madmiraflor];
  • Tried to ignite a prolonged fling that lasted years but failed so I just gave up [and ‘forever’? I might just have to believe it’s not real];
  • among others.

It was extreme changes. Not your ordinary ‘people change, things change’ change. They were big for me, caused major transitions, and have quickly defined me, my year, and how it ended.

It was a great year, not perfect but I loved it so much I almost didn’t want to end it, that when the New Year’s Eve arrived, I was speechless, hesitant and unwelcoming.

2014 was a year of coming out of the several comfort zones I built for this battlefield often called reality. I had a big show in the past 365 days but it would still make an awful storyline for a movie. I wasn’t the best actress, I reacted so poorly and I cried easily. Some of the scenes were so raw and so my emotions got a little too extreme towards it. At some point, I was happy until I’d find myself feeling unfortunately sad. I was ungrateful. I became too moody towards life. I hated it. I loved it. It surprised me. It bored me. It challenged me. It was weird. It was normal. It was bipolar. It killed me and made me alive. All of these, everything, I felt it up from the fake-blonde strap of my hair to the nerves of my fingertip pad… all in 2014.