Nothing New.

I never quite understood Chinese New Year, the excitement and festivity everyone on Instagram seem to have. I guess that's because I never had that kind of joyful family gatherings as seen on TV. Today's the eve of the New Year, where people have reunion dinner. At around evening, my house remains as is, daily life continuing with little regard on this union of a family. There is no going to a grandparent's place to expect cousins or loud chatters you can't quite make meaning out of. Naturally, awkward calling of aunties and uncles are voided; as with their endless questioning. Maybe that is a blessing of its own kind, as cloying as the sensation may feel in the moment.

At the table, at no one time is everyone present, but it's a reunion dinner they say. This man who I call dad has become such a distant and cloying figure it's unbearable to speak to him, let alone dine in the same space. Even on a big table with more than enough seats to go round, we still move forward in life eating in separate sessions. There's no attempt to mask the loneliness, and everyone eats in silence, in their own invisible bubble.

I know the picture I had painted sounds tragic, but please don't sympathise with me. It doesn't really phase me that much anymore. Maybe it's better this way, there's little salve in pretending we are less than the cracks present, like playhouse underwater tea parties. We can only do it so long before we need to come up for air.

But I suppose it is a little bit weird, how there's so little emotional attachment to anything here. The house could be down in ashes tomorrow and we'll tear over our own material items lost more so than the sentimental values combined. Living life in parallel feels a little lonely sometimes, and it still feels like I don't have the ability to connect to people inside and out of the house. This is how it feels like, walking around with a mental house gates always shut, the exquisite pain of so desperately wanting to connect with someone but to always fall short somewhere. Transient existences and the pleasures they bring are comforting, but the emptiness to bear when it comes time for them to leave is overbearingly depressing. Sometimes I think I could feel them physically, somewhere in between my gut and heart.

Oh wait, how did I go from Chinese New Year to this?

Maybe I'm the problem-plagued one.