I promise you.
January 2, 2011
2010 has come and gone. Now in its wake stands 2011.
“It’s another year,” I say. Yet, saying that leaves a bitter taste in my mouth.
A veil of lazy Saturday night stupor covers me, and my eyes wander off the screen to my wallet, next to the mouse. As I rummage through it – with coins, cards, pictures, and all – my fingers come across the seal of the state of New Jersey. Its holographic splendor brings focus to my eyes. As I lose interest in the ladies holding sticks, however, I notice the expiration date: 12-31-2011. Another trip to the DMV.
“Issued: 12-18-2008,” it also reminds me. That was during my senior year in high school.
Then a flood of feelings and memories sweep away the laziness, and I am filled with regrets and emptiness, more so than with fondness and joy. A punch-in-the-stomach feeling reveals my hope: “if I can just go back…”
What I had once had, now I have lost. What I had once known, now I have forgotten. For what I had once cherished, now I have apathy.
I suspect that something is fiddling with my mind, coming up with all these thoughts and emotions. But what?
Things I know in my head are pounding away at my sanity to think otherwise. My heart, however, cannot stop lingering on the bruises I gave myself.
If I had one chance – just one – to make right all the wrongs I have done, would my life be different than it is now? Would I be happy with myself then?
