Happy New Year?

Since finding out I was HIV-positive, especially earlier on when I didn’t really know what prospects there were left for the rest of my life, I had put myself in a mindset of preparing myself to live a short life. Of course, that included having to prepare the people around me, especially my family, to get used to not having me around. And take note, as of today, still no one in my family knows I have HIV.

Among us 13 cousins on my mom’s side of the family, I might not be the least talented, but I’m certainly the least appreciated. Let’s just say, if there weren’t any papers that obligated them to recognize me as a blood relative, I’d probably be an orphan by now. And the HIV thing isn’t even part of the equation yet.

Even without the HIV factor, I’ve already probably been the biggest failure, or at least the least successful, that I’ve had to make up for it in other fields. I’m the most scrappy, I’m the least ordinary, I’m the most sarcastic, I’m the least gullible, I’m the most witty, I’m the least sensitive, I’m the most goofy, I’m the least uptight, I’m the most street-smart. These are things that I won’t exactly get citations for, but have learned to be proud of nonetheless. But that’s just it. I’m the only one who is proud of myself.

I know this all makes me sound so pitiful, but since finding out I was HIV-positive, I thought this might actually work to my advantage, making it easier for my family to cope without me, in case of my early demise.

So time-space-warp to today, New Year’s Day. Just like Christmas Eve and All Saint’s Day, another obligatory occurrence for a family reunion. This year was no different.

The one thing I was definitely there for was lunch. But heaps of rice, slabs of crispy pata, chunks of fish, and mountains of salad later, I was left in limbo.

The men were playing mahjong, whereas I hate gambling. The women were Skype-ing with my brother and other relatives abroad, whereas I was still actually enjoying my first brother-less New Year. The girls were trying on dresses and blouses, whereas I was keeping my opinion to my discreet self, not planning to be Fanny Serrano for them. The boys were playing some multi-player shooting game on their laptops, whereas I am still of the Pacman, Tetris and Minesweeper generation.

I envy my sister who has been able to break free from the obligation of attending such family gatherings. It’s as if she is no longer expected to show up. Which is sad for me, because she might’ve been the one I’d be hanging out with if she was there. But I’m happy for her. And I’d like to be that way too, no longer expected to be around.

But this was ridiculous. I’m still alive, and already it’s like I didn’t exist. I had nothing to do. I was stuck in nowhere land. Not here, not there, not anywhere. I felt as though I could’ve left and no one would notice. And that was really sad. I was just lying there on the couch, feeling my heart breaking with that realization.

Although I’ve learned not to fear death itself, I have to admit my greatest fear might be dying alone and having the life I’ve lived not sum up to anything. That I would not have done anything significant in this world. That I would be forgotten.

Spending the day with my family left me with both a happy reassurance and a sad realization: They’ll be okay without me.

Happy New Year?