As the prospective new season approaches (the approach of which I think upon more often than I care to admit), it occurs to me that I have changed completely from who I once was, and certainly not into the person I intended to be.
In 2006, I made myself up, approached things to come with a newfound balance and wisdom, and decided, once and for all, that things would be different.
2007 began in a dreary haze of bittersweet happenings and intentions. My sore heart in a trying state of constant consolation. "Things will be as they are meant to be" instantly comes to mind as the words I said then, and even now they are the words that I always turn to for comfort. Reliance is a sickening thing, in a way, trusting upon the seemingly abstract, that which is greater than one, to look after one, to truly care. And He does, I know He does, but in the mean time, it does seem increasingly easier to forget.
2008, an up and down whirl of the most surrealistic teenage experiences I think I've ever had. So much to think of, I could simultaneously combust. Moments of tenderness, moments of split decisions, rash thinking, eating cream-filled ginger snaps without care, letting my short locks curl near my ears, beginning "higher education" with soaring hope, wiling days away at his house between classes, until fateful events led to the perilous infrastructures, infatuations boiling and breaking, losing hope and hair, falling marvelously into the pits of the deepest lows I have ever known.
2009 was characterized by multiple meager attempts at friendship, yet these meager attempts led to a more full-hearted satisfaction than I could have ever dreamed for myself. We mended the broken, stuck through the good and bad, grew closer, treated each other as well as we could. It was the year I had my first art class, my first surprise party, the year I graduated and saw myself as being all that I could. Ended not with a bang, but a very high juxtaposition of the right and the wrong melding into as-right-as-they-could-possibly-be.
And now, 2010, it's a funny, strange, meticulously unmeticulous thing. My brain goes through blurs of intense satisfaction, blurs of fast forgetfulness, blurs of unwellness, unknowingness, unsoundness. I am afraid I have let myself down as that person who I so terribly longed to become. I have my first job, I go to school, I take walks (and sometimes run), I eat in accordance with my emotions, I wash my hair as I feel led. Sometimes it's all so beautiful I can't take it, I am grateful and I would not want to be anyone else, in any other place. Other times, I am seething with the intense vigor of a spirit supressed, I long to be anywhere but home, or at least closer to knowing, closer to where I shall eventually find myself. The days grow impossibly warm and I find myself longing for the acute comfort of the cold, telling myself that as soon as it begins to storm and I have a grade on my paper and stockings on my legs and tea in my hands, things will be well, things will be as they are meant to be.
I am not incredibly courageous or productive, and I've fallen back on my bum a million times, and so many days, SO many, I tell myself, "Tomorrow you will start anew, and it will be the first day of the rest of your life, and you will grow and become exactly who you are meant to be." And then tomorrow never comes, and I find myself reflecting every afternoon, and every night, that perhaps it isn't that life is supposed to start tomorrow, perhaps it is supposed to start today, right now, this second, even though I only have the half of it done and even though I don't know what to do in the mean time. Why is it that I have a million things and nothing to do at the same time? Why do I kill myself over silly artifacts and neglect the big picture? Why am I so human and why must I always say I, I, I?
Caring, crestfallen, hopeless and helpful. I am a picture, all at once, of exactly that which I hoped to be and did not want to become.
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