We make resolutions, promises, declarations of change, fist slamming into the table, things will be different. They will change. I will change. Things will be better. New year, fresh start. Change.
We reach the end of the year, tired, holiday hangovers, a year's worth of regret, of problems, of pain. The human need to quantify and qualify, to measure out time in manageable chunks, to put an end and a beginning on time. Next year will be better.
This has been a tough year, the first year that age has been a factor, has been felt, felt in my bones, my knees, my soul. Seen on my face. Realizations. The moment time stops and you look around and see the scenes of your life playing out and you wonder who wrote the script? Who cast those actors? Who is directing this mess?
Things will be better next year.
Fear of making mistakes, making the wrong decisions. Forever sitting on the fence, one foot down and then back up again, turning a different direction then back. Never committing, never jumping down and walking away without looking back. Next year will be different, never year will be better.