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cereal is a neoliberal lie.
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Back here again. Pining for resolution as a year once again diffuses into catharsis. I’ve rarely found the separation of one year from the other healthy or useful, but I nonetheless feel the tides of anxiety rise through my core and into my throat each and every year. What happened throughout this year? How is it already over?

Did I do enough?

There are thousands of gravestones for all of the minutes I've murdered and hours I've neglected this year. I seem to waltz between their tombs with an air of attachment as if i've walked these routes thousands of times before and despite recognizing the dysfunction of it all, I continue until I forget. Or at least that's the concept of self I can't seem to shake off me. 

Continuing off of last year the sheer ignorance i've utilized to find new surroundings that I may not be comfortable with has been, once again, rewarding. It feels like healing nowadays. Well, that or a passionate response to the displeasure I feel when i'm by myself. It looms over me farther than ever but clouds often eclipse our pursuits. At its worst it feels like getting past it is all I can hope to accomplish, but I’m so tired of that pattern at this point.

In the privacy of my life I continue to feel loss, yet the losses feel too empty to share at this point. Truly I want to commend myself and everyone reading this on the growth we've experienced. We rarely give ourselves credit and that’s not okay. I’ve done some really tremendous things this year and i've met really tremendous people. I hope that continues. Hope the holidays have treated you well and I look forward to how our dance unfolds. 

2022, i'm glad to be leaving, but I’m in no hurry to arrive either.
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