There is a world, out there, and it is doing its thing like never before.
Turn, turn, turn.
Each day is a new beginning, each night a final end. The year means nothing in the grand scheme of things, one after another with never-ending certainty; what matters is what is done in that year.
Where was I a year ago and where am I now? And what about you? Was there progress or decay? Growth or deconstruction? For me, it was a bit of both, but mostly I progressed.
I am happier than I've ever been, heavier than I've ever been, healthier than I've ever been and more comfortable in my own skin than I've ever been. I am not as rich as I would like, nor have I been able to make much headway with that whole aloneness thing. But, for the most part, I'm okay. Not great, but okay.
I've quit smoking (mostly- except when I go to the cafe). I broke my 4-year sexual dry spell. I had a girlfriend for a month, which was kinda nice. I'm keeping my bills paid. I'm closer to my family, which is somewhat new. I am looking forward, more than ever, to starting my own family someday.
I learned that I am clinically depressed and, once I learned about it, I quit being depressed so much. When the blues come, I realize what it is, acknowledge it and then watch it worm its way out of my mental system. I've seen the world start and stop and take moments for respite for the most interesting reasons. Things have changed and they've stayed the same.
I am employed, housed, fed and financially solvent. I am quiet and calm and waiting patiently for my next adventure (and there WILL be one, of that I am sure).
I am writing far less than I would like and being creatively stagnant in general. This does not please me. If I believed in New Year's resolutions, I would probably push towards being more creative and getting back some of that magic that I miss so damn much.
I would also push to stay in better contact with my friends, the ones who really are worth knowing and keeping.
But, in the end, it is all pretty much a crap shoot. Where I am today is not where I will be tomorrow. Next year will be different, whether I want it to be or not. And, frankly, I wouldn't have it any other way. As much as I have progressed towards the positive, I wouldn't want to repeat this year again. I wouldn't want to be relatively homeless for a month. I wouldn't want to be sick again. I wouldn't want to work a shit job that I don't really like. I wouldn't want to wait around on pins and needles to find out if the next day will be a battle for survival. I wouldn't want to set foot in another strip club. I wouldn't want to be anyone else's bitch. I wouldn't want to argue with my parents and then learn that they were being hypocritical. I wouldn't want any of that, not again.
Doubtless, though, this next year will provide me with a strange set of surprises and unforseen craziness.
I just hope that it won't drag me down.
Don't drag me down. Not anymore. Lift me up and let me fly.