I wish I could say this photo is the summary of my year — gazing upwards, awash in light and happy — but the fact is that it is only a fleeting glimpse from December. December will shine like a lone glorious beacon through a year that was largely dreary. Maybe. (Maybe not.)
Often I have no doubt that this would’ve been a much more prolific and generally readable blog if the author had been less paranoid/indifferent about chronicling her life or expressing her thoughts to the world at large. More spontaneous. Maybe more innocent?
The thing is, with each passing year (with each passing month/week/day/hour/minute/second) I lose a little of my expressiveness. Get better at self-control. Suppress my strongest feelings with increasing dexterity. Refine the masochism till it’s a connoisseur’s delight — wins prizes and things. (Honestly, can I even write an uncomplicated sentence like ‘Hey, I won a prize!’ on a blog anymore?)
Hmm. Maybe too much thinking is the crisis. Tricksy topics like what do you truly believe and who do you love and how do you live with people who love you but refuse to want to love you and who do you expect to read this blog anyway. The next time I’ll write a book review.