About crossing over to the other side, about the transition being an idea of the rest of the coming year. Most times, it doesn't result in anything much different from that. Most times, I take that transition, that in between from one year to the next, and work it into some kind of meaning.
But at the end of all of it, I think it's only a frame of mind.
I found myself sitting on the curb, in the cold, finishing off the last of my pack of Fortunas. Normally, I absolutely detest crossing over with smokes and take pains not to. But I wasn't counting this time.
The loud, happy Spanish festive music playing from the house across the street gave way to the sound of horns and cheers and squeals and party poppers. That followed with fireworks from random houses in the neighborhood- some patterns that stayed in the sky for ages, others that faded and were instantly replaced with more. That was how I realized it was the New Year.
The first person I spoke to, and said Happy New Year to was a random chap on a bicycle.
So that was me, the glow from the house behind me spilling out and casting my shadow on the empty road.
eight minutes past midnight, I walked into the house and poured myself a mug of warm water.
I'm not up for doing reflections right now, or looking back or any of that.
My head is ringing like a bitch, and I'm upset but too tired to cry.
But, like Vv's just said,
"there's not time for rubbish emotions" and I am in full agreement. After all, that's how I've been for the longest time. So basically, I don't understand why it should be any different these days.
Happy New Year.
Because honestly? it doesn't feel like I can do this anymore.
January 1st 2011, Saturday