Is it too late to look back? // im ending this year

I'm ending this year, with a bell jar filled with unspoken feelings and departing from the promises that were set in a stone. We weren't on the same page, let alone the chapter. But as I tried to look back and ruminate about the things that happened and could've been, I saw nothing but a mirror with a vague reflection and wilted flowers on the table. I played hide and seek with intimacy and moved to invisible premises many times. Tried countless escapism, tried to kill it with a bottle, or few puffs, or a pill. But twas nothing but a futile attempt to escape. What could never be, is now a fait accompli, and what should be is a falsity. At night my heart used to raise a furor fueled by words left unsaid. I flipped my pillow over and over to feel the cold side to fall asleep quickly, but at the same time I was afraid to fall asleep cause I might see the single strand of someone's hair falling to the side of the head. But I solaced myself by looking at the people around me who were grieving; perhaps I wasn't the only one in the rabbit hole.

I'm ending this year, with a bitter pill that I swallowed. That I cannot change the way I'm turning into this shell of a person, but I can change the way I react; it's nothing but a facile effort to be a better person. I've embraced this determination. I've embraced the fact that no matter what I do, my past will hit me like a bucket of ice-cold water. I've been naive the whole time thinking I can make people stay but I've embraced the inevitable, no matter what I do, I can't hold on to people. It's about making little connections and watching them alter into some stranger and then later letting go of them when the time comes. I realized this year I slowly entropy until I dissolved into a pile of mush. I was just a bystander all along. I realized I had a conundrum. I was afraid of amusement and intimacy.

As I learned from Tarkovsky's film "Words are flaccid" And lastly, I've accepted that my endeavor to be a better person feels like a myth, but I'll never stop striving for this myth, perfectionism. I'll end this with a song which I listen to every December.