Thirty-one days into the new year and it doesn't look new. Everything stayed just the same way it was thirty-two days ago, and somehow I feel disappointed. Not with the New Year per se, more with myself for thinking one number on the calendar would make any difference.
I know all about those self-motivation things on how "if we want something, we have to be the ones going after that something" and what not... But the truth is, I don't really know what I want - I'm finding it extremely hard to set goals for both short and long terms (if my crappy New Year's Resolutions are anything to go by). Yes, I want to read more and take more pictures; those could easily be worked out for short term goals. I just have to pick a book from the pile that has been growing on my bookshelf, and I just have to take the camera the next time I leave the house... But I can't find in me any motivation to do any of those things. I'm stuck.
Stuck between having too many unrealistic dreams for myself, having too many of those unrealistic dreams crushed recently, a depressingly low self-esteem, rainy days and nothing useful to do. I know, deep (really, really deep) inside that everything will, eventually, turn out alright. I'll somehow get my happy ending - whatever that means and however long it take to reach it -, but it will come. I'm just terrified of the time period between now and that day.
And there is still hope that, maybe, during the three hundred and thirty-five days this year has left, something new will come of it.
So here's to being hopeful.
Happy New Year to anyone that might be reading this. May your year have started in a less confused way!
And if by chance you missed it, I updated my "final words" post like I said I would when the time was right. I guess that time has come. You can scroll down to look for it, or you can be lazy and click HERE. Until next time :)