It's that time of year when we're supposed to finish off chapters and turn over a new leaf. Yet what if you aren't done with the path you've been on for the last year? Are you just supposed to continue, as if nothing actually changed? It's just an arbitrary date anyway; who's to say when something ends, and something new begins? It seems silly to worry about a made up moment some person long dead declared to be the conclusion of one year and the birth of another, as if our attempts to divide time into meaningful chunks actually mean anything. People wait for the countdown to tell them it's okay to believe in themselves again. They end each year with failure, but hope that when the clock strikes twelve, they can begin the new year with a clean slate. They tell themselves that this is the year things will happen, never realising that things are always happening; they're just happening without them. Not for me though - I march forward towards every dream I've ever hard. Despite failure ... or perhaps, because of it.
