Written by:

Zerayn D.

“It was a difficult decision that we are postponing… but we are not cancelling,” said the announcement.

If you are following Asian news, you must already know that two countries have agreed to a ceasefire along the borders. The conflict erupted at the beginning of December 2025 and resulted in deaths, chaos, displacement, and derailment. It cast a heavy mood over the country. Because of this, Christmas festivities and public events were cancelled.

The upshot was an unbearable sadness, a blue Christmas like never before. Gatherings were scaled down and made solemn. There was no rambunctious laughter, no elaborate decorations, no singing of carols, no dancing around Christmas trees. I paused and accepted that the Christmas tradition I knew would not come to life this year. I was still grateful that gift-giving happened and that I received presents, but there was no excitement in it. Nothing felt special; everything felt blue and mundane.

Even so, I tried to look for that Christmassy feeling. I went window shopping, staring at towering Christmas trees and searching for the most elaborate lights. I saw the colors of Christmas, but the spirit was absent. I visited discounted stores and shops with great prices, yet few people were buying or having items wrapped as gifts. I spent my free time at home instead, listening to Christmas carols, hoping they might bring a small sense of joy. I played them again and again, but the spirit did not come. I sat in solitude and listened sentimentally, but it still was not working.

Eventually, I decided to move out of my old residence. As Christmas carols played in the background, I slowly took down everything on my walls: my paintings, my poems, color guides, and photographs. When another song began, I moved to the cabinets and shelves, packing my clothes and belongings. “I’m moving out on Christmas Day,” I told myself. “This is my present to myself.” No one questioned that decision.

While decluttering, I found a ripped page from an old journal. The photo attached to it had been printed through Bluetooth, from the time when Nokia evolved from the 3310 to camera-equipped models. It was once the cover of a journal where I kept my early poems. Back then, I was a university student nearing the end of my literature courses. Seeing it reminded me of the first time I fell in love with shaped poetry and illustrative poems. Before Zerayn, there was White Lily.

Now, as I write this, I am in a new place. Like White Lily, I have gone through changes, shifting places and identities, until finally becoming Zerayn. This is my Christmas journey this year: from a blue Christmas to a renewed perception of oneself. 💙💙