It’s the last day of 2013. I went to bed last night and woke up today with a sense of happiness and hope. I’m glad we’re leaving behind this year. I am glad that, this time tomorrow, I can say that my life will be changing “this year” – I’ll be traveling, going home and starting a new job surrounded by friends and family. Some days, I want to hide in Korea.
Every time I get on that scale, I see a number higher than the last. I am utterly out of control with food and spend most of my time consumed with what my next meal will be, eating and only being to a point where I am satisfied after I’ve eaten copious amounts of fast food at night. I know this has to stop.
It’s the end of the year and I found myself thinking about how excited I was for 2014 to begin. But then my pessimism came crawling in and I actually wondered why we put such weight and significance in these kinds of events. It’s the same as going on a diet – “I can’t start on a Tuesday, I have to start on a Monday!” or “Let me start fresh tomorrow morning.” 2013 is a year, but a day is a day.
I thought to myself “I hate that I have to reply to e-mails, I hate that I am asked to do things, I hate that I have to worry about whether I have enough food in my fridge and that I have to go to the shops. I hate that I have to get up and go to work.” I want to go home to my country but lately, I don’t want to go home. And then it just hit me, that I am so sick of living.
I’m lonely and I’ve put myself in the situation where I could and possibly do feel rejected. The smallest things give the biggest blows.
When I am at work, I want to be home. When I am home, I want to be elsewhere. During the week, I want the weekend. When it’s the weekend, I am bored. I act out carelessly and when I realise it, It is Monday and I am exhausted.