dear 2015

Dear 2015,

You went by at a snail’s pace until August, when you sped up with all the rapidity of me taking a pee break during Doctor Who.

I graduated in May, with full honors. Success number 1.

I got a job and moved to Korea in August, fulfilling a two-year dream. Success number 2.

I wrote a book during NaNoWriMo. Success number 3.

I survived my first semester teaching with only every other night bathed in tears. Success number 2.1?

So, like that, my year sounds pretty good, except for the whole ‘bathed in tears’ thing. I exaggerated a bit to be poetic, but I have spent an awful amount of time this semester, this year, crying from stress and fear and general ‘what the heck am i doing with my life i’m nearing thirty and holy shite that makes me old’-ness. Sorry, my sentences speed up when I’m being feely.

2015, you were pretty good all the same. Retrospect usually wears rose-colored glasses, so I can see how much I grew and accomplished and feel like the year was well-spent. At least I had things to write down. No matter that most of the year I spent terrified. It was a year. A good year? A bad year? Still too early to say, I guess. I guess it doesn’t matter, really. Years will be bad, or good, or nothing.

It was nice knowing you, comfortingly ending in 5. Too bad.

Until we meet again.

(what)

 

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