my 2023 in colours
i have a colour for every month
Preface: This is a super personal vignette, with intentionally little context. It is not intended to be a celebration of my year, but more of a tribute. In more ways than one. Enjoy.
January was turquoise. For the favourite colour of someone impactful in my life. For the name of a board game cafe. For the murky waters I spent so long in, that I never knew there was a world out of it. For that new world I was introduced to. For the beach theme of a hackathon I ran a workshop for.
February was fiery red. For CNY blessings; the parade I marched in. For the maple leaf on the wing of my flights. For the excitement I felt from stepping into my new home across the world. For the music cafe I went to on my first day in Seoul. For the Squid Game plush I won playing arcade basketball. Fresh, authentic kimchi. For a passion so strong, I was entranced. One that made me wonder, maybe this one will last.
March was smoky grey. But peeking behind the smoke, it was also so, so golden. Flames are bound to die out. The fiery red of February turned to smoke after just one call. “I think we should take a break.” March was grey for the tears that followed, mixing into the tteokbokki on my rooftop in Itaewon. The tears that would continue a week later, hitting the Hongdae pavement at 3am. It turns out I am in fact, not invincible. For the first time in a long time, I had let myself envision a future with someone, and to have that change overnight was almost incomprehensible.
But it was also golden, for the hanbok I wore at Gyeongbukgong Palace. For my first concert in Korea, sitting on swings, and listening to ballads as the city goes to sleep. For visiting the filming locations of some of my favourite k-dramas. For the shininess of my foreign residence card. I can’t believe I’m really here. For the way the sunlight reflected on the Han River. For the glowing lights of a hidden terrarium cafe. For the familiarity and comfort of Chinatown, on a day trip to Incheon with my roommates.
March was golden in every way possible, and I was sure the smoke was temporary.
April was PANTONE 13-1520: Rose Quartz. For the fandom colour and comeback of my favourite k-pop group, SEVENTEEN. For the cherry blossoms I’d admire in Ewha; followed by busking in Yeouido. For the sweetness of concerts and festivals I had the privilege of scoring tickets for. For the flowers I’d buy myself on commutes home (and bartering with the florist, who compliments my Korean). For endless belly laughter at the weekly pub. For writing more, and learning to lean into my intuition. For taking more little bets on myself. For beginning to heal.
Already, I started preemptively missing Korea. To miss a place while still being there, pre-nostalgia. I clung to these memories for they were fleeting, desperate to catch them before they could escape. Do you ever just want to bottle up a moment?
May was matcha green, for my daily dose at Paik’s. For the 5511 bus to campus where I lost my phone (and in a miraculous rollercoaster of events, recovered it two hours later), and the 03 to my nearest subway station. Green for a nature-filled day adventure in Gapyeong. For the soju-filled fridges during MT. For the drunken nights by the beach in Busan, where waves danced in harmony with the melodic, gentle winds. For the excitement of amusement park rides at Wolmido Island, and the carefreeness of dancing in public to the sound of nearby buskers. Fireworks all around. For experimenting with film and content creation. Is this what living feels like?
But just when I thought things were beginning to clear up, the residual smoke of March still haunts me. It covers me in soot, chokes me so hard I can barely breathe. I will escape its grip, I write. I will, I will, I will.
June was sky blue, for the blindingly bright skies on my final days in Korea. Finals were a blur. For a much needed weekend retreat to Gangneung and Sokcho; the refreshing taste of cold noodles after a brutal hike. For the beginnings of a Snoopy obsession upon landing in Jeju. For casually running into an idol group at the airport. For saying “Toire wa doko desu ka?” constantly in Japan. For the magic I felt stepping into Nintendo World at Universal Studios. For the water fights at a music festival (I was drenched). For nailing a makeup routine that felt like me.
July was lilac. Singapore. Brunei. Malaysia. My mother’s birthday. A month for family, and learning to be patient with my family. After all, it’s their first time at life, too.
August was peach. For finally hiking the Chief, which had been on my bucket list since high school (despite getting stung by a wasp). For seeing my favourite artist on stage for the second time, basically front row!! For the beautiful landscapes of Melbourne, meeting some family for the first time. For the grass I missed below my feet as I played spikeball with my friends. For finishing my last exam of undergrad. For post-travel withdrawals, and feeling foreign in my own home. Everything looked the same. But oh, was I different.
I thought everything was clear. Though I suppose it’s only natural, now that I had returned to the places where memories were planted, that the smoke comes back in waves. Oh, how the body remembers. But with each passing wave, it clears up. The smoke dissipates, and I see the sun shine through.
September was umber, for the muddied leaves that stuck to my shoes. For the beginnings of a community I would find myself going back to time and time again. For landing more opportunities. For getting sick. For a spontaneous Wave to Earth concert. For my lack of consistency in work and working out. This is not a practice life, I whispered to myself.
October was marigold. For turning 22, and the flower of my birth month. For my first adult wedding. For showing my parents the university I had attended for the last 4 years, for the first time. For the trees behind my graduation photos. For meeting a little British shorthair. For side projects and making my own font. For carving pumpkins, and multiple game nights. For film festivals and seasonal ice-cream.
November was iridescent. For pursuing what feels right. Great convos, better people. For getting back into a solid, consistent gym routine and doing personal training. For Hack Western, for Symposium. For getting invited on and recording my first podcast. For believing in myself again, and having optimism. For conversations that would change the trajectory of my next year. For seeing M in-person again, the girl that keeps me grounded the most. For joining a community of people who are just as lost as I am but want to pursue this lostness together. For writing and publishing more.
November was a month I thought I’d be somewhere else. When I came home to my childhood bedroom in August, I felt lost. I had the urge to leave again, escape somewhere south like Mexico or Portugal in November to avoid feeling like I had hit my peak in the first half of 2023. How could life get any better than this? I had thought.
But I didn’t leave. I planted my feet, and November was the one that snuck up on me instead. November, you were different. Whenever it felt like things were grey, I’d look closer and new colours would present themselves.
Suddenly, November was full of colours I never knew existed.
December was a frosty, pale blue. No snow this year, but life still seemed to glisten. For an electric, successfully-hosted event that inspired people to believe in themselves and create for the sake of creating. It seems to me that finding the right people is like having ambrosia run through your veins. Frosty for the icing around a farewell cake, for friends off to pursue their dreams. For the jingles and ho ho ho’s you can’t escape from everywhere you go, even if everything is not merry and bright. For Snoopy hand cream I was gifted. For constant singing, dancing, and cheering at an in-theatre concert experience. For an unexpected storm impacting a loved one. For the approaching winter, and family dinners.
For creating more for my communities, and all the people I love.
In 1428 words, 6638 characters, and 12 colours — 2023, I thank you for everything you’ve done for me. I’m looking forward to seeing what colours 2024 will hold.
The theme of this piece is inspired by a friendship I fell out of. She once wrote to me about how she has a colour for every month, and the meanings behind each. I know it’s incredibly unlikely she’ll ever come across this post, but if there’s even the slightest chance she’s reading this I just want to say — Thank you for the light you’ve brought to my life. Every October, I still think about you and hope you’re doing okay. I hope October is no longer grey for you.
Shoutouts to:
M, who I have been doing weekly, monthly, and yearly recaps with for the last two years. Thanks to our monthly documentation, I was able to better remember this year and put together this piece!
C, who gave me feedback on this post both in writing and imagery <3
What were the colours of your year? I’d love to know in the comments below :)
I adore this concept of a year in colors and this was beautifully written!
this post was beautiful. I really FELT it :)