It has been a while since I have said anything, both in real life and on this blog.

It could be because what I want to say has been said too many times. Or it could be because what I want to say shouldn't be heard by everybody. Or maybe it could be because I don't have much time to really say what I want to say. Or maybe because I haven't found the right words to say them.

Whatever the reasons are, the long silence has itself an impact on myself, my psyche. I am less of a person to be able to hold back the passion that drove me to say whatever I meant to say. I am less of a person to hold back a passion that drove me to take incredible risks for those unimaginable and often unattainable rewards.

Such is the price to pay to survive the unimaginable odds. We become less of a person for the sake of it, and return to the animal that would do anything to protect itself and whatever is left.

Such is the nature of the beast and this is my howl in the coldness of the long night.

She surprised me when she arrived. She took a piece of me when she left. While the past month have been somewhat of a blur, one thing's for certain, that the past 2 weeks have been a tropical island in a sea of storms and emptiness.

I know we've both changed. Distance and time does that to everything, whether it be the tallest of mountains or bigger yet, two of the oddest balls that ever came together. Yet, despite the change, the two of us have changed not just to deal with the increasing pressure of what we face, but to complement each other as well. Our roads constantly running parallel to one another like a well choreographed dance routine. Yet, our actions have never been planned let alone choreographed. What we do has always been tantamount to our own selfish and individualistic desires.

We do it simply because we want something better for ourselves. In return we made something better for one another.

I know most relationships don't operate on the same level of passion. It does take a different sense of reality to defy the normal standard of love and relationships. However, with everything that we have faced so far and with everything we will be facing, being normal and following the social rules which most relationships are based could never see us through. We are the odd sort of people, one that throws away the social distinction and emotional desires for a simpler and more manageable common sense and practical selfishness.

It is why we've lived and flourished for this long. It's why we both know and not just believe that can weather the storms that we cannot seem to avoid.

Until we see each other again though, I will continue to play my role as she will do the same. We will continue to redefine our own set of limits in the place of the rules we tend to defy over and over again. Until I see Mel again, I will have to operate on the shred of hope that there are happy endings, and like God does not play dice, there are reasons for everything happening.

We just do out best to control what we can and ride the rest into the great blue yonder.

While this was the sort of post you'd expect to see over the new years, I really didn't feel like writing it down to begin with. Mainly because I was busy, mostly because it is something I probably said a million times already.

The thing about New Years is that for me at least, I've lost all sense of it being something celebratory. It's become for me at least, another circle around the sun by the little planet that could. While people mark the year's end/beginning as a time for coming up with goals/resolutions/achievements that mostly fail within the first month, I've been measuring my time in terms of each and every crisis I have to face and little goals I set myself to accomplish. In short, the New Year is nothing more than an excuse for me to not do anything but rest and relax for a couple of days before returning to the fray.

My New Year has also been pockmarked with a lot of bad memories. From losing love ones to feeling helpless in the face of people I can't save, it feels like a long standing tradition of badly dealt cards. In so many ways, I don't want to think about all the things that happen in the face of this. I know it is part of the past and I should let it go, but you know how the mind wanders, more so when you're alone. I'm alone a lot during new years.

That being said, I really don't have a resolution or wish for the coming 365 days, except the hope that the next few months would see myself through the most toughest of trials. There is a lot of shit and fire to traverse past and I can only hope that I can go through it unscathed. I can only hope, but reality has never been kind to my plight. I have the scars to prove just that.

It's a New Year with the same deals, the same battles, the same wars and I start it with the same warcry I bellow into the night every year.

"Bring it on!" I say.

And life always does its best.

The thing about doing the late shift as a medical scientist is that you often get called up to collect the blood from hospital patients after everyone else has gone home. Being that is was Christmas eve, everyone went home extra early leaving 2 people on as the skeleton crew. I was one of them.

He was old and frail and the arm in which I took the blood from was as limp as if it didn't have an bones left in it. We talked for a while. Him, to strike a conversation with the only visitor on the eve before Christmas. Me, to calm my nerves being new at taking blood from someone that I've taken previously.

In that moment there was a special bond formed. I knew a bit more about him and he knew a bit more about me. Despite the fact it was only for a short time, I think we both understood just how lonely that night meant for us. So despite doing my job, my smile was sincere as were my wishes for him. I hoped that he would get better. I know I would make an effort to keep track of his progress.

Leaving the confines of the hospital's critical care unit, I began to take note of all the other wards around. Those that had family by them in the hours counting down to Christmas and particularly those that were as silent and empty as the patients who stared into the blank wall or the blaring TV. In a country where Christmas is a holiday that brings people together in cheer, the unvisited dark rooms felt desperately gloomy. Even in my own solitude and melancholy, I know I still had my own health and at the own day, I got to go home. These people deserved more than they were getting.

So I made a choice, if I could the next time around, I would spend more time with those who didn't deserve their solitude. Even if I was alone, I know it was still my own choice. I know I still could do something about it, and I would and I will. No one deserves to be alone on Christmas. Even if it's a meaningless tradition based upon a pagan ritual. Even if its heavily rooted onto a monotheistic belief I have no faith in, Christmas still means something to me, and I would wish it about those that have no one to share it with.

It's the least I could do.