Another rushed retrospective

Well, happy new year, everyone! I don't know if anything new is up, though. You can only imagine the fireworks, the associated injuries, and the I-don't-want-to-go-to-school-yet feelings that dominate our hearts, minds and souls. Maybe the only thing that's new is that I'm an unregistered voter who's in front of the PC, still arguing with his annoying brother.

Oh, wait, nothing is new.

I called this year two-uh-oh-six for a reason. It is, as it proved to be, an annoying, confusing, euphoric and terrible year. It was, quite seriously, my first bite of reality as television shows refuse to portray. And, if I become willing to remember, this was the year when I got paranoid, got confused, fell in love, got overly excited, fell out of love, found new friends, found new inspirations, found someone who matches outfits with me, got bitter, got busy, got into majors, denied a lot, got sleepless, got paranoid again, missed a lot, and attended birthdays - that was a mouthful. Okay, breathe. One, two, three.

There's me thinking too much about majors, or maybe what people thought of (and still think of) me, or how to make a good impression with others. Or maybe what to wear to a debut, and whether people would think I look stupid.

There's me looking at other people and making weird things out of it. Maybe something like Jan and I "brokeback-ing" in swimming class, or looking for what Mon and I called "Zay-isms" like probably the one here, or meeting Mirielle and laughing at the plural form of German, or letting up with Issa's random randomness, or looking out the corridors of Miguel's third floor eager to find out whether Sarah and I match outfits. It's that shallow, but it isn't always the case. And they aren't the exceptions, either.

There's me taking on far too many things, probably. It's either I'm deep into what the major subjects ask us to do, or stuff for the Student Council (Jaja's "no time for kidding anymore" line goes back to memory), or maybe the little unnecessary things, like the plot-twist-worthy campaigns blog, or everything else I ran around the school for, for that matter.

There's me going through the plot twists themselves. Let's see - half a year mentioning Kizia, half a year mentioning Issa's randomness, three months talking about the elections, two weeks about matching outfits, a week with Nico's departure... you get the idea. And these are just the things I'm willing to talk about publicly.

There's me making no sense out of myself. As always, as usual, as if nothing else mattered.

I'm not trying to make something optimistic out of the year, though. I'll admit it was crap for most of the time, and I was immersed in depression for far more than I bargained for. For the many times I claimed to be lonely, to the point that it was normal to write such, or maybe when I got too obvious about things. If I practically need some snapping out - maybe from Clarence's exchanges to Ale's emails to that three-way hug I somehow pulled out - I won't try to understans today. It's just plain weird.

Or maybe I'm doing the opposite, false dreaming that things would go well as it's always portrayed, where the protagonist always wins and the antagonists gets hanged, with negative effects as always. Oh, yeah, right - shifting priorities.

So maybe destiny was quick to make itself work out on my life and everybody else's this year. Again it's been a blur, and I'm currently distracted by what's playing and what's been read and written, all two hundred sixteen entries. All imagined, all crappy, all misunderstood, all lost in my distraction thinking as to why the person I'm waiting to reply isn't replying, when it's seemed all too soap-opera-amazing the past few days. And yes, I've been letting go of my pretensions and making myself look, well, stupid. I'll admit. I'm quite lost now.

You've taken your deep breathing? All right, get ready.

To all the friends, enemies, perceived enemies, impossible appreciations, surprise partners-in-crime, new family members, crushes, loves, misconceptions, sudordinates, associated, bosses, editors, tutees, penguins - oh whatever, let's just say everyone - thank you, and... that's it. Thank you. I don't want things to go mushy. I'm not in the mood to do so. It's not me, or so I wanted to think.

Well, that's it for the year. Tomorrow we wake up and the cycle starts again, and at the end of it we've got no energy to go mushy. Or so I hoped last year. Welcome to Uncle Bob's Lucky (two thousand) Seven Club.

And your responses...

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