2017

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Memoir  |  House: Booksie Classic


2017, Personal review spill.

Submitted: December 31, 2017

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Submitted: December 31, 2017

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2017

The year is officially over, and it's that time of year where everyone does their own self evaluation, becoming their own worst judge. I am no exception to this phenomenon,and i feel like the verdict i'm about to give myself is fair and just.

 

This year is the year that I have been beaten emotionally the most so far, it’s the year a tyrant was elected to be our leader and certain doom is looming near the future. It's the year where I spent the summer emotionally depressed. It's the year I fight tooth and nail finding myself. Letting go of the sword to pick up the migther weapon. This pen, Is something I will cherish forever. So something I observe every year is the this scent of nonsense that wofst the air around the final days. Everyone being optimistic and saying masked nonsense things like “oh this year is going to be different, tomorrow everything is going to change like that.”

 

It's exactly that, nonsense.  

 

Change is not instant, change comes in waves. Change, is an ocean. Sometimes what is considered an instant, is the equivalence of a tsunami. But real change comes in waves, sometimes you can see the next wave over the one in front of you. The opposite can be true as well, you cant see whats beyond the wave in front of yourself but there could just be calm water past the chaos. I like to believe the latter right now, sounding optimistic makes me feel like hypocrite, but fellow reader, my mask is not hidden to you, you may never see my face, but you have seen my heart and my mind. This past year has been one giant tsunami, with me drowning and tumbling inside. I want to believe that some other fresh, new wave, a good wave will come and splash and refresh my life. I can feel the tide currents moving in strange ways.

 

I have been speaking about all the bad of this past year, but a lot of good came as well. I light shined on my real comrades, apologies were handed out, and I feel like a tree spreading its roots further the more I grow as a person, becoming more sturdy. With all the bad that happened. I am now sharper, less naive. My pen gives me strength, there is more that my mind has yet to share, more stories to come, and spilling out like a cup of warm milk.

 

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