December 21, 2012 is the end.


Can’t stop listening to this today.

For almost a year now, most of us have been looking toward Dec. 21 with caution, though I doubt most people believe the world will really end.

I think people like to believe, as it unites strangers. Now a days, faith in something other than religion is almost impossible. No, the world won’t explode, but that day everyone will think twice about “what if.”

To me, this day so near the end of 2012 is a snapshot of how so much of my year was spent: throwing cation out the window and indulging in what I wanted to. YOLO, Carpe Diem, Live Like You’re Dying, whatever the phrase, that was my mentality.

In another view, life without consequences.

December has been daunting this year. I am anxious for it to come, only because I am anxious for it to be over. December 2011 left so many bad and distinct memories: the nights in New York, saying “goodbye” at the Amtrak station, going through the motions during Christmas, spending most of New Year’s night locking myself away in a bathroom.

After December, so much of the details were lost as hollowed myself as a person. I remember major things, but the timeline, the effects, the general progression is unclear. I don’t really want to remember. The unforgettable good memories are just colorful pieces that occasionally reveal themselves from the grey spiral shit show of things that were wrong.

I guess I’ve come to the conclusion, that all these coincidences lately are just a sign I’m on the right path. I’ve applied meaning to life again. Things that happen aren’t just isolated instances, that happen for no reason. I saw “The Life of Pi” over the weekend, and one of the few lines that stood out were, “Does it have to mean anything?”

It can if you want it to. Back then, I didn’t want it to.

After Doomsday (coincidentally exactly 8 months prior to Dec. 13 – the last big milestone of 2012), concerned friends asked me repeatedly, “Are you sure you’re okay?” Some recommended talking to police. All I could do was shrug. There was no point. There was no greater meaning in my mind, other than things happen. Looking back, I let things that happened that night of lesser importance, overshadow the things that happened to me. I didn’t mind, at the time.

One of my Tarot cards was Death; as my reader put it, the falsely “most feared” card. He told me, death doesn’t always mean a physical person dying. It can also mean the end of a period of time, or a personality.

December 2012 is the death of the person I was in 2012. I spent a year, running and hiding, being selfish, and living without consequences.

I started REALLY blogging on June 22 (6 months prior to the day AFTER the end of the world). I was marking that as the start of rebuilding myself. I feel like by the end of 2012, I will be there. Will I keep blogging after that? I will just have to wait to see.

I want to leave 2012 as I entered: alone. There is no better way in my mind for me to give 2012 the finger than to gracefully take a bow, in the same position I was brought into it in, but so much stronger.

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Author: Clarissa A.

The older I get, the less I know.

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