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I hear the clanking of glass against glass & party poppers exploding as bursts of colour erupt from the dark january skies.
So this is the New Year, I think. I don’t really feel any different, I’m living my life just like before.
I think more about it for a moment. Everybody has on their best clothes, worth much more money than they can afford. They want to feel wealthy for just one night. They want to forget, like I do. But the difference between them & myself is that I find it impossible to forget. They give themselves resolutions every year, but I have none; it’s just self-assigned penance, and I have yet to escape it.
Sometimes I wish the world was flat, just like the old days. That way, all I’d need to travel would be a folding map. I want to gather up my guts so that I can speak to you, but I’m afraid I’d become miserable by thinking about the possible distance between us. Maybe, maybe if the world was flat, there’d be no distance to hold us back.
So I look back into the crowd. One day, I wonder. But for now, I’ll just mock them, perhaps until we speak.
This is the New Year, but it doesn’t feel much like it.