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The turning of years
With the turning of the year comes the weight of reflection. Silent, yet inevitable. Today I think of the quiet goodbyes, and the loud ones that echoed through 2025, like whispers in a rainstorm. Even when doubt clouds my heart, I wonder if endings are tethered to some unseen reason, a thread woven too fine to see, but which pulls us in ways we don’t understand The way the universe spins with purpose, sometimes sharp, sometimes soft; strategically breaking hearts, strategically mending us, it’s hard to tell if we’ll ever know what (if any) good reasons it may have. But I’ve learned that one has to learn to let go.…
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Another Day in Confusion Land
Homemade noodles and chilled sake, in my eyes the world’s still so foggy. Starving my disillusionment and making magic, what a treat it’d be this year to kill the panic. One, two, three, four, five—I lost count of all the posted notes I’ve found, written to the world and my now glacial soul. The to-do’s, self-reminders, and must-do’s know their time will come, but for now on paper they look good, dancing to the beat of my drum. “I hear that… Nothing new… Never mind… We’re doomed…” Their comments match the year’s theme, it seems. But people would go far to prove a point, ignoring when the damage’s been done…
