Not to mimic Marcel Proust, but it seems an appropriate title.
Where to begin? 2007 was just like any year. What with the twelve months and the school and the vacations. I can’t say right now if I’ve really changed, but I would like to think that over the course of the past two years, I’ve grown up. Matured. There is no indication of this, but it’s a thought. I used to think I was more mature than many of my peers, but I see now that I still have a lot to learn about life. I guess I understand now, why my parents and my doctors told me that I was trying to grow up too fast. And as a result, my emotional maturity is significantly low.
I’ve always felt like I’ve had to prove my intelligence to others, but lately I’ve encountered people who do the same. And goddamn they’re pretentious. I hate to think of myself like that.
It’s such a shame, too, that I’ve become less sociable. Sometimes, I don’t think others can see it, but I do. Throughout the year I’ve lost so much respect for people I once held in high regard; it’s rather disappointing. As if I’m not indecisive enough, I really doubt my judgment now. Trust, as well. I thought I was careful with it before, but apparently not careful enough.
In the past new years, I never understood the hype of a new year. Nothing changes. The demons, the dilemmas, and the ghosts of 2007, and even 2006 and beyond that are going to follow us. We’re just lying to ourselves when we think that a fresh calendar and the traditional New Years resolutions give us any sort of rebirth. I still feel that way.
But I’m turning eighteen this year and to be perfectly honest, in spite of having wanting this to come, I’m scared shitless. Because there is an inherit knowledge that I’ll fuck up royally.
In any case, happy new year and I hope yours is infinitely better than mine.