December again

and we're alive

there's merriment in the air.

it's that time of the year again.

the end.

thank god? we made it.

we're alive.

but it feels like any other day.

i'm not as excited as i should be about the year ending or a new one beginning—it's just there.

i don't think drawing closer to your end is a cause for celebration, but what do I know?

there's a dry wind in the air.

it's that time of the year again.

people celebrating, families coming back together. it's the holidays.

yes, it's december.

and next month, i turn older.

my brother reminded me yesterday while i was slouched over my table.

yay.

another year almost gone.

another trip round the sun.

and still, here i am—alive, watching, waiting. ready or not.

i remember last december a bit, funny how i was preparing for another weird exam then. the same dry wind cutting through the streets. now i watch it again and think about all the little things i let slip by.

it's december again. the kids are home, running through the streets with the wind, their laughter carried along like it belongs everywhere. i can barely smell anything but dust. yet inside, my chest feels hollow, like the wind itself is curling there.

another orbit. another chance for the sun to rise and fall over the same cities, the same faces. i orbit quietly, noticing how small i am—yet how much i carry in these invisible loops.

it's december again. dust settling on my table, the wind drying my throat. yes, fun times, no?

i don't know what the next year holds—no one does.

but i'll try to remember and write to you again. so let's make it to the next one, okay?