Yet again, it’s the holidays and we’re all about to die. The Earth, hanging on its last straw. World leaders, conglomerates, people brimming with greed tearing it up even more. Polar bears are left with nothing to live in, their homes slowly being melted by the byproduct of humans losing their will to create, losing their will to be human. Similar to Palestine, when their country, identity, and nationality is being erased by inhumane acts inflicted by Israel.
Maybe that’s also the reason why we’re here, sitting in the middle of a tennis match between the leaders of our country—2 brats who take the worst from their fathers, double it, and use it to further destabilize the country left paralyzed by their fathers’ regimes. While we suffer after almost being erased from typhoons month by month, they monitor from the sky; stowing away their secret bonuses that account for each holiday that there is in the Philippines—money that could help feed a starving and flooded nation.
A warm December inflicted by corporations who play to bet who can make the biggest carbon footprint out of all of them. No amount of progress and infrastructure can amount to livelihoods and homes lost because of irresponsible conglomerates spilling their oils, terrorizing coal mines, and farmers’ lands.
On the other side of the world, however, a convicted felon is back in office, which can only account for a million steps backwards, not just for their country, but for the whole world. Meanwhile, South Korea impeaches their President quickly after hurriedly declaring martial law—something in our country that I am afraid we can’t achieve, when they already have their designer shoes on our poor necks.
Love teams are dropping down like flies—we saw it coming, didn’t we? Cheating scandals, cheating issues, cheating one’s identity to become the mayor of Bamban to cheat your way onto making your own POGO hub, cheating one’s way out of a senate hearing by acting childish; something you learned from your father. Other than that, the heavy weight of having to function despite all of this. Accompanied by the weight of wanting to do more, to do something about it, while balancing the plate of wanting to excel—that they so easily do. The weight of wanting more but having less. The weight of hearing sympathy stabs right through your chest every time.
‘Tis supposedly the season to celebrate, but to whom do we owe that spirit of jubilee when we’re desolate of tidings akin to our savior’s birth? When this year’s front pages and headlines only read of things that are bad, trickling onto worse and going onto the worst news that would make you think—what are we to be thankful for this year? What are we to celebrate? Do we have anything left to hope for?
As I tread through these questions in my head, along with the fear of having to survive a new day in this near-apocalyptic situation having to carry my own personal baggage—lots of it, you suddenly open the door and tell me to drop my bags as you’ll help me unpack them. Then, I remember why the holiday spirit is still alive—it’s to live for the hope of it all. Because a year ago, you told me that Merry Christmas means “I love you” and Happy New Year means “One day I want to get married and have kids with you.” So, aside from the overwhelming fact that our love might be a crime any time soon, hold me as if this is our Last Christmas on earth together—oh, and if I haven’t told you again, Merry Christmas and a Happy New year!
