7 minutes to go and I have never felt more lost. New year, same me, same mess, same mistakes. Have I grown at all? Regressed?
This isn’t really even a post – the blank screen has not been big enough in the latter part of 2021 to contain all my emotion.
5 minutes to go. Time is a construct. We make it up.
All there is, the passing of it, the way it sits inside me, the way I feel undone by it.
Here’s to all the things I have managed to live through. Here’s to all the things I feel. Here’s to trying.
Better luck next year. 1 minute to go.