Fuck 2012.
No. It wasn't fun. All that stuff sounds really positive when it isn't happening to YOU. "How lovely!", you might think. "You must feel so light and free!", you conclude. "How wonderful it must be to go through such a process of rebirth!", you surmise.
Not in the slightest.
Healing processes are painful and time consuming, once the real healing begins. The wounds itch and twinge, invoking the memories of their infliction and depth. You remember the pain, the shock, the panic, how you bled. Proverbially, of course dear reader, have no fear.
So, fuck you 2012. I'm not sorry to see you go. You told me everything I didn't want to hear, and made it so I can't forget any of it anymore. Stripped me of my defense mechanisms so I could begin the real work of healing. Fuck. You. I cannot thank you enough, you've given me the greatest gift. And I hope 2013 will be a shot of morphine to counter the roaring of a system spurred into action after the shock of injury.
2012 redefined the notion of "tough love" the way my car accident in 2010 redefined the word "impact". And it was about as much fun. 2012, you will always hold a special place in my heart, and if I ever see your like again, it will be too soon. Don't let the door hit you on the way out.
And now, on to much bigger and better things! Plans for the evening:
Also, I've decided to forgo big new years resolutions this year in favor of just improving everything by 1 degree, a little at a time. I will celebrate the little victories and leave the lofty goals for those full enough of hot air to reach them. out Out OUT!
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