How It Was

This is what I mean when I say I would like to swim against the stream of time: I would like to erase the consequences of certain events and restore an initial condition. But every moment in my life brings with it an accumulation of new facts, and each of these new facts brings with it its consequences; so the more I seek to return to the zero moment from which I set out, the further I move away from it; though all my actions are bent on erasing the consequences of previous actions and though I manage to achieve appreciable results in this erasure, enough to open my heart to hopes of immediate relief, I must, however, bear in mind that my every move to erase previous events provokes a rain of new events, which complicate the situation worse than before and which I will then, in their return, have to erase. Therefore, I must calculate carefully every move so as to achieve the maximum of erasure with the minimum of recomplication.

--- Italo Calvino, If on a winter's night a traveller

My brother commented: "Early this year, you look like twelve. Now you look sixteen."

Because it was one hell of year. I felt like I had a 180 degrees turn from last year in almost every aspect of my life. Changes occur like overlapping troughs in a high tide: there is no time given to recover. Although I can materially spoil myself now, I couldn't really say if things have been better - or if I have been a better person. I was too dependent ten months ago, now I am defiant to being comforted. Perceptions used to be formed by a huge Jell-O waiting to be squirted anytime. Now, words are too tangible and limited.

This year, I learned how to love myself... and I am still learning.