This Year...Part 1

I was still embracing the conclusion of my midnight morning. 
The next few hours into the new year weren’t anything special, 
but I was able to breathe for a minute. I didn’t know the events
of this year would be so unforeseen.

The beginning was just there, but as it started to unfold, it felt like 
a lucid dream. It felt like I was dreaming in between the binds of this 
chapter—laughter to tears, an endless stream, never an in-between 
until we got closer to the end. There was never an ending until we 
realized that all things have an ending, but you’re always beginning.

This year…

The next moment was heartbreaking. Then we made it to the middle, 
and my eyes were wide open. During part of it, I forgot who I was. It took 
a moment to cry, and now here we are at the end of the finish line. This 
year, I pulled myself together, accepting that I said some shy but beautiful 
hellos while crying as I said some hard goodbyes. I lost my identity; something 
outside of my cracked world told me to stop believing. The clock seemed so 
fast, but it turns out it was just my projection, not a true perception of time. 
What did I learn?

This year…

Now I’m aware. At some point, life just seems to snare you. Unable to resist 
the glares, you fade in and fade out. But when you steady yourself and remember 
the words you once recited, you put both feet back on the ground and emerge into 
something more fitting. I’m found now—not hesitant, but brave. I said some beautiful 
hellos, but they were preceded by painful goodbyes. I’m found now. I’m exhaling now. 
Stronger now. The fading was just an illusion, and now it fades away. Here you are, 
standing.

This year was lucid. My emotions were fluid. I thought I was losing, but I had 
just stopped fighting. I didn’t realize I was breathing until I stopped moving 
and acknowledged that I was living.

No cracks, no bruises, no more healing—just a feeling of bravery, acknowledging 
fear, but no longer surrendering to tears.

This year had endings, but this year was the realization that it’s always beginnings.

Next year…

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