Reflect.

Speaking of 2009 and moving on into the new year (which has gone by really fast), I wrote this recently to describe the change of pace that I have experienced. I suppose it's a personal thing, and yet I don't mind if people read it. I don't know. I don't care. I am not going to further explain. Haha.

I tried to split it up for easier reading, since it hurt my eyes.

Though less than two months have elapsed, the year 2010 has thus far proven to be absolutely monumental. Maybe this is apparent in juxtaposition to 2009, which for one reason or another fell very short of spectacular. At least I thought so, at first. I used to blame it on the several unfortunate circumstances that fell into my lap beginning in January, though in retrospect I now understand I wasted far too much time mourning the past, and axphyxiating myself on nostalgia. Starting in March, after quitting drugs and being totally forsaken by the one whom claimed to be my soulmate, I had frequent nightmares reflective of my astounding mental disquiet. Waking with a gasp in a chilling film of sweat, disturbed by striking images of apocalyptic fury and cheating whores, I'd rock myself in a fetal position on her side of the bed. It felt cold and abandoned, yet I could still slightly feel her imprinted body, like a chalk outline around a corpse. I exhausted myself, still doting on an impossible dream. Too many days I spent standing on the shore looking at the horizon, waiting for the shadow of her ship to come into view. Needless to say, it never came. I may never know if it collided with a colossal iceberg or if it was devoured by an elusive sea creature, but eventually I stopped wondering completely.

It took months for me to snap out of that pathetic and isolating trance. And I only blame myself for becoming so enraptured in a contemptible, frothing cunt, with absolutely no regard towards my best interest. "I am not cruel--only truthful," Sylvia Plath once wrote. Giving myself up to the hard truth never felt so liberating, though. Eventually, I asked myself, is that what I really wanted? Was that convoluted mess of a "long-term" relationship truly happiness, unwavering bliss? Would I ever consider going back to the life I used to lead, if I had the chance? The codependent indulgences, the taste of blooming flesh, black pearls, eyes drooping and words slowing under the weights of depravity...Let's just say, I'd rather receive a gasoline enema while being simultaneously raped on a bed of push-pins soaked in the blood of AIDS patients.

Dry your eyes, because this story is not about my descent from unbelievable naivety into jarring bitterness. Quite the contrary. As the second half of the year progressed, in general things seemed to become much easier; the nightmares totally dissolved and it didn't take effort to enjoy myself. A trip to Cannon Beach in Oregon proved to be truly awe-inspiring and sparked an appreciation for the world around me, a world I had previously paid absolutely no mind to. Maybe it was a switch that just clicked in my head one day, or maybe it was the deluge of new (and old) people that came tumbling into my life. Or maybe I'm not giving myself enough credit; I was vehemently focusing on self-improvement and gluing together all my pieces every single day. Spending time by myself, for the first time in almost two years, didn't feel lonely, but rather surprisingly incredible and advantageous. My hyper-analytical neuroses did not cease; it is, as a Virgo, something I consider omnipresent in my life. However, once again I was finally able to direct this anxious behavior into creativity, into optimism, into (independent) hope, and all without a bittersweet Xanax tablet dissolving under my tongue and a glass of Franzia in my sweating palm. I may have lost the key to the shackles on my melancholy ankles, but the sudden rush of enthusiasm about life seemingly coming out of nowhere completely shattered them with a mallet made of diamonds.

And thus began my increasingly stupefying lust for life. The last few months of 2009, as well as January of 2010, were a blur; a fortuitous canvas of rough brush strokes, composed of beautiful and incomprehensible colors that I had never dreamed of imagining before. I hardly ever caught myself in self-defeating thought loops or daydreams about what could have been with glassy eyes. Boredom, pity, and incorrigible moods that wavered somewhere between anxiety and depression ceased to exist, and the heavy burden of hatred gradually receded from my newly vivacious heart. I began to appreciate human beings as captivating facets of a mesmerizing spectrum, learning from even the smallest experiences that I may have overlooked as frivolous before. Dizzy with love and empathy, without seeking monogamy, I wholeheartedly threw myself into the company of new friends. I kissed gentle strangers on the mouth and let them know that they're sublime, breathing in their inspiring, sensuous life and letting them taste mine. On campus, in stores, on sidewalks and streets--I stopped walking with my head pointed at the ground and letting myself melt into the background. Instead, I smiled at passers-by and let them know that I care about their presence, and my heart would swell when they returned my gesture with a coy grin of their own. Spending entire nights laughing magnanimously with my best friends became the norm, as well as cherishing each lush and lively second. Music took on a new, paramount importance that filled my insides with an effervescent glow of inspirational vigor. The satisfaction I had spent years of my life yearning for had finally come.

I'm not sure why exactly I chose to let the world know about my life's recent turbulence and subsequent blossoming into a tangible nirvana. I can only hope that this feeling not only endures, but also spills over into the lives of other people, filling them with warm, yellow light and at least a small sense of unfaltering serenity.