I can’t remember what I’ve done for the new year for the last n+1 years. Apparently it’s not a big holiday for me. I don’t know that I’ve ever done anything really great for the holiday, like say, being in the midst of an urban mob with a significant other screaming at the top of my lungs. My timing was never that good. I’ve done my share of hitting the hooch and passing out too early in a fit of depression, naturally.
Regrets can fill your life really, really quickly if you’re not careful. Regrets and little post-it notes with question marks on them—they ask you about all the decisions that excised something (or someone) from your life, or that excised the possibility of something (or someone) from your life.
And your failures. The question marks are also there to ask what might have happened had you routinely studied that extra hour, saved that money instead of spending it, not cocked up in all of the ways that you routinely cock up.
But nothing’s perfect.
All of the people that I love and have loved: I wish I could see some way to make it work, because I’m lonely and it’s very sad to be lonely after having not been. I don’t understand how people break up. I really don’t. I don’t understand how people that love each other at a deep level can fail to chart a comfortable, common path through quotidia. I just know that ends happen—a lot—even after you’ve been together for years.
But you just can’t reconcile the loss that you feel in retrospect with the tension and trouble that you felt at that moment in your life. Time is not a multidimensional thing; it is ultimately only what happened… that happened.
Not novel or deep. But at least honest, tonight. I’m sad about J— and J— and L— and L— and E— and so on and so on. People lost to me, at least in one way or another. Companionship lost to me.
Okay, I’m wallowing, I’ll admit. I’ll go and watch a DVD.