December 1, 2020
Dec 31: I'm sitting on my bed, trying to get past a recent disappointment, struggling to arrive at forgiveness—of myself mostly. Seems like a lot of my bad days lately had been brought upon by my lofty expectations that I can be the bigger person. Tomorrow is a new year, and it's going to be the same old. This is being optimistic, mind you. Hoping for something new is akin to attracting devastation. That's an exaggeration. To each his own. It's raining softly outside, here inside my room the air is pregnant with unsayable wishes. I'm careful, I'm wary.