So much has changed. Now that I have poured out all of my demons that I acquired and lost in 2021, I come to January 1 with that familiar uncertainty. When a year is only minutes or hours old, it feels different. It is one ripe with more potential than normal. Even with predictable fireworks exploding into the ether, there is that hope that they could shine a little brighter, fill the sky with some greater beauty as the familiar pang of Frank Sinatra plays on New Year’s Rocking Eve. It’s all a pomp and circumstance that I never cared for, but every now and then I think about how minuscule my life is in the bigger picture and wonder… maybe this time, it will be greater.
Because 2021 was greater. In some sense, it was a period of great growth. But I didn’t know that a year ago. I couldn’t see past my immediate future where I hadn’t even attended a university class yet or released a book. So much was left unknown that I personally feel like a somewhat different person from then. I am happier. I am more expressive. I have a sense of identity that I’m allowing to inform my persona in ways that I haven’t before. There are still many ways that I seek to learn, but for the time being, I can’t live in the ellipses that is thinking that one year is going to be like the next, that just because the world is straddled with COVID-19 I’m going to somehow succumb.
I pray that the next 365 days are healthy ones. I pray that when I get to December 31 that I am happier than even now, a time where I am feeling an overwhelming sense of accomplishment. There is no way for me to personally control the bigger picture, of this world that will undoubtedly bring with it tragedies. I will have bad days. I will get to June and, predictably, feel like this year will never end. Maybe things will be kind, that I will see a clock and notice time slowing down, allowing me to appreciate the gifts in my life. Of family, of friends, of myself. There’s so much that I can imagine 2022 giving, and there’s now ways that I can fully know what that is just yet.
I write this a few minutes shy of midnight, hoping that this goodwill that I’ve built for myself chooses to stay. I wonder where the inspiration will come from next and if I will experience a new, inexperienced form of happiness. All that I have to do is look. I can’t be scared to just step outside of my comfort zone and look once in a while. Maybe I won’t change into a tycoon. Maybe I won’t keep a 3.8 GPA. Those are things I hope to keep, but I also hope that so much more happens, that I see opportunities and am not afraid of their unknown.
Hello, 2022. It’s nice to meet you. While I come mentally prepared with a checklist of things I hope to acquire this year, I do not wish to share them with you just yet. They will sit on my private docket until I find them suitable to share. This is not because I think resolutions are doomed or that anything will happen. It’s just that when coming to this piece I find myself overcome with one emotion: curiosity. What ARE you? What will you make of me? I keep growing older, and every time now I am reminded of my early 20s: a period of great memories but ones that I clearly needed to grow from.
The journey is long and to judge my successes and failures solely on your relationship to 2021 is farcical. I need to just accept that some plans will be met while others will crumble or be forgotten. What will remain when you are gone, when someone is shooting off fireworks for someone else? I hope, in my memory, that you exist for an eternity; capable of connecting me to something sustainable about myself and this world. Who knows what that will be, but I cannot wait to find out.
So I enjoy these first few minutes, before things start to take form. You are beautiful in your abstractness, the limitless potential starting over. I sing “Auld Lang Syne,” crying and remembering the good times that came, hoping for a great road ahead. Will I get that? Who even knows. What I do know is that the road behind me was a rough one, and yet I persevered. Hopefully, this one will be easier, allowing me to pass with less hassle. Life’s been good to me before, so it’s time to see if it can start again, fresh and new.
The firework explodes and fades into the night. As the boom disappears, the darkness returns, waiting for the light of morning to reappear. The Tournament of Roses will begin on schedule as it has most years. Time will march on. I can’t wait to see what it looks like.
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