I used to tell myself I was alone every year, with my head stuck in the stratospheres of childhood fantasies. There were just preferred alternatives that were not an option, mingled with a required annual stocktake of general life progress deemed unsatisfactory.

But this year, albeit like every other year is different. And better.
Because tweleve months ago, 2010 was this unchartered land full of failures and triumphs.
And I may not be where I want to be physically, but I am not alone. Sure, I'm not cleaning up vomit either, and just sitting in underwear that I would not want an unexpected intruder to see because I would embarrass them, but I am just so happy. With myself. With not just myself. Especially happy with not just myself(but it doesn't detract from the self-worth).

I look out the window and the fireworks stop. I'd curse for having opened the blinds, leave the general window area and then again. The shelling resumes, relentlessly assaulting the skies with joy and colour.

I am not lamenting.

(I may have fucked up, a lot. My uncondoned 3.5 stressful days of demi-coastal bliss came with it a parental-sanctioned demotion. My loss of an entire semester. My loss of important people, and my lack of achievement in any field.)

So instead of saying, New Year, New Me, I say ... something along the lines of retaining my previous character and positively building upon it in the coming 12 months and beyond.

Happy New Year kids.