And it's nearly the end of the first day of New Year's.
And it's the first year I didn't end with Owaranai Ashita He. (addendum: apparently I didn't last year. Hmm)
Looking at the posts of last Christmas, I realized that I really spent three hundred and fucking sixty five days to clear it up. How terrible of me.
Only now do I realize that I'd been emotionally stuck in the pits for so long. I'd never even noticed. Funny how that works.
What are the costs of aiming to feel alive? The fact that you would wish you were dead.
What are the costs of having hope? The fact that you would wish you had never hoped.
What are the costs of bearing faith? The fact that faith would betray you so.
Why do you want to have hope? Because with hope you can continue, persist, triumph.
Why do you want to have faith? Because you believe in a person, an organization, an idealology.
Then, why do you want to feel alive?
Is it because you want meaning in life?
Is it because you're afraid of mundaneness?
Is it because you're don't want to feel dead?
Do you want to share a story with someone?
Do you want to share a life with someone?
Do you want to share a tomorrow with someone?
Why? Must your story be told?
Must your life be paired?
Must your tomorrow be alongside someone else?
It's a long climb uphill.
How long before you stop walking hand in hand?
How long before you start letting go of them?
How long before you start losing the people you walk alongside with?
How long before even a trace of their shadow is gone?
How long before you realize you're alone?
How long before you wonder how long you've walked?
How long before you wish you could turn around?
How long before you start stepping on others?
How long before the path is painted red?
How long before you reach the top?
It's been a bittersweet year. So sweet. So very sweet. So very, very bitter.