2/2; 2016, for me ended on a strangely disturbing note for me. I was seated next to my great aunt, who was propelled next to her husband, who was fixed to a couple of machines and a huge oxygen cylinder to keep him alive. This was the second time I’d met the two of them; with both the meetings three years apart. And I remember, selfishly praying that I won’t have to spend the new year watching a man heave through a thick pipe in his mouth. New Years were supposed to be better than that. To my momentary relief, I really didn’t. But for the next twenty hours, all I thought about was my aunt, sitting there, next to him, recollecting all the prayers that were taught so vigorously not to forget. It would make me bitter, I thought. I thought that failed relationships would make me bitter about people who were in one. But it didn’t. Just because one man was more than a handful, did not mean that the rest of the world that believed in relationships were devoid of sane logic. I was surprised for a moment, but then I remembered a dear friend writing to me about how I was worth absolutely nothing, that my future were abysmal. But i don’t remember not making friends again, I don’t remember not picking up a book to shut myself out. Basically, 2017, in a word was exhausting. But I remember saying this two years ago on this day, and I’ll say it again, I am not tired yet. And my friend, I hope, neither are you.