It is the year when breathing became a conscious act. It is the year in which one July evening I failed to feel my body for more than 30 minutes. In those minutes, the knowledge of my existence was terrifying. It was then that I knew I had to slow down, I didn’t know how to. I like the rush, you see, the rush of waking up to something new every day. Monotony, I don’t know how to live with that. Eventually, I got bored of staying in bed on days when I couldn’t get up. It is the year when I began seeing my life in terms of 365 days. Before 2018, a new year only meant writing the wrong date for at least one month. This year, however, has been about having symptoms of depersonalisation and derealisation, anxiety attacks, and shattered emotional and mental strength. It has been about accepting that things aren’t okay within. It is the year of losing people, relationships, and self. It has been about feeling empty and not being okay with it. It has been about drowning in a sea of ...