Not to be a killjoy or anything, but currently, I do not think highly of Christmas or most festivities. I merely deal with the New Year as a chance of a hard-reset within myself, despite the fact that it feels like any other day, one cannot deny that the idea of a fresh start is always appealing. The fault is not in the event as it’s more in myself. This year, as many of its predecessors were so full of turns and surprises, be they professional, personal or otherwise. Each year leaves one feeling drained and exhausted like coming back from a war with a faceless enemy. However, it leaves one with a form of a bittersweet knowledge and development. Pain is the master of all teachers after all. Times like Christmas or any chance to start a fantasy of a new beginning makes me drift in a state of mind that seeks solace in its own torment; a cruel irony, mind you. This year, I made three friends within myself, four perpetual concepts that manifest in a poetic summary as it does in harmony. I dub them Joy, Sorrow, Acceptance and Sanguine Reclusiveness.
To Joy; a long-forgotten friend and the one that is always overlooked, I am sorry for ever taking you for granted. I am sorry that I sometimes did not appreciate your subtle presence, for when you are gone you are most missed. I should have invested more time with you and in the things that interest you more than the things that just provided an illusion of you. I realize it has been a while since we last talked. I have been caught up in trying to prove most of the wrong things to people at the expense of a commodity I am never getting back; my time, chunked away from my own life. I realize the folly of my mistakes when it comes to this subject. I’ll try to arrange more time with you in the upcoming year and in the future. I know that sometimes you’ll need to be away and that your presence is not without intermissions, but I always hope you do not forget about me and understand that even if I may seem forgetful, I always yearn for your soothing company.
To Sorrow; a companion that I cannot afford to keep, and I cannot afford to lose either. I Trapped you are within me as you trap me within this paradox. I understand that you only do what you are supposed to do. I know you mean well, just doing your job, being a reminder that I am a human and that the others are as well. A consequence that follows actions that either ails us or by those who trouble us. Thank you for reminding me that I should take steps before pouring my emotions into everything; thank you for reminding me that I should use layers in investing any type of sentiment for they are a commodity of the utmost scarcity: whether such sentiments are desirable or the opposite. I cherish every lesson you taught me for I know you are trying to become less palpable in the future by such teachings. I thank you, once my oldest enemy; now wryly call you my friend.
To Acceptance; the calmest and noblest of them all, indifferent you are to all what annoys and pleases the world as you conceive things, people and events for their face value; a value in a world suffering the turmoil of dealing with matters for personal gain or for ulterior, seldom benign motives. You just keep watching until the aftermath and collect all the broken pieces. You reshape the ruins back into a form that is of our doing, a painting made of strokes of our own choices and silent voices. You provide the path leading to the answer sought by our own accord. You take neither the blame nor the praise, a silent guardian standing, watching until the end of time and forever the watchful you shall remain. I give you my thanks even though the gratitude is always irrelevant to you.
To Sanguine Reclusiveness; my gracious friend; my sanctuary and my end no matter where I begin; the bulwark that is my shelter, I can never thank you enough for what you are; a place that will always remain loyal and beautiful regardless of how ugly things get. The sanctuary that mends all the wounds of the day and night; the tear and wear, all the battles lead back to you whenever I win or lose, a nest nursing its crestfallen child whenever the need arises. Your beauty manifested as you can exist anywhere and anytime. You always answer the call with the utmost dedication.
And finally, to the one gone but never forgotten; heavy are your ashes, an epitome of your memories and what remains of you. All what you were and what you ever would be reduced to an abrupt end; a cruel fate bestowed on those who survived you, and those who suffer such a heritage wish they join you in anything other than being in your wake. Will I cease to recall? Will I cease to remember the fabric of who you are? Will I forgive myself, comes the day when I cannot divine how you would react to the life around me? I bear this woe, this token as a burden that reminds me of a loss unfathomable; an evergreen bereavement. A solid fact to keep me in tether with the only concept that no logic can decipher … a phantom pain yearning for a heart I once had.
To all the friends, the enemies, and all those on the sidelines who watch and those who do not happy New Year and a have a Merry Christmas. Let’s see what fate holds in its folds, shall we?