a look in the mirror

As the new lunar year descends upon us, I still find it hard to believe that another year has just flown by. I woke up to January the 1st, 2009 like it was the 28th of May, 2008. In other words, unlike the new years before, I didn't feel the jolt of a fresh new start, or the sudden anticipation of another 365 days of unpredicament.

But, instead, I turned to the past and slowly relived 2008 through a series of internalised reflections, with many things to improve upon and accept.

I am a hard person to please. In real life, my brain takes a while to catch up with my mouth and I don't always express what I really intend on putting across accurately. I wish that people would say the right things to me at the right times all the time. But at the slightest hint of criticism towards my character and attitude, as with the content of all constructive criticism, I become moody and offended. I am indecisive to a fault. But I always make an effort to explain myself for fear of offending those I care about eventhough it may seem as if I don't care. I have a phobia of being left out, missing out on fun and opportunity, and an awesome fear of having a lack of options, as well as lost efforts at things that could have readily changed for the better had I gone the extra mile. I hate being told what to do even if it is for my own good. I am a utilitarian to the nth degree so if I don't see a point or an end result in weighty matters I won't bother at stabbing attempts. I constantly, constantly struggle with my own body image issues, despite my better judgment. At the same time, I wistfully look back on times where, none of this ever mattered to me. I often think that happiness does not come by easily and I am skeptical and attracted at the same time when things sound too easy. I hate it when people assume that they know me very well because I like to think that I am unpredictable, mysterious, stormy and barmy. People who assume that I don't find joy in the everyday because I haven't found God will be met with a very sinisterly glare. I think that religion is a very personal and individual matter that should be dealt with gently and respectfully without being met with self-righteous licks when not displayed in full frontal glory. There will always be an undertone of sadness and melancholy within me which I welcome quite shamelessly because it encourages me to think. I am a restless spirit who has pieces and shards of interest splayed out in every possible creative direction, but to each its ultimate standard of expertise I cannot fully reach. Sometimes I feel like my heart is flying in over my head, bouncing off the walls and ceilings yet confined within a certain path. I want what I cannot have. I kick myself for not appreciating things until they are gone.

I have to come to terms with so many imperfections that it amounts to a self-pity which has to be shelfed and stuffed away, never to be spoken of lest I be seen as a whinging brat. But at the same time, I have to remind myself that there is always someone who sees a different, better light at the other end of my mirror.