needing a plan

That time of year again, brushing Celebrations wrappers off my duvet, wondering how many other households always leave the Mars bars and Milky Ways in the tub.

For the final time, I'm riffling through printouts and refill pads for a sentence I wrote back in week eight. It's making me antsy.

I wish I could enjoy the here and now, not worry about what comes next for me, but I've had Christmas gifts picked out since September. I plan ahead.

I'm grateful for the calendar companies including the first week of January on a spare page. Like being forced to face your own mortality for the first time, knowing what's next. Knowing who I am, what I can do.

Always the second to enter a room. A step behind on the sidewalk. A follow-up to someone's coffee order.

An echo more than a presence.

This time of year; I used to worry when I was younger about not having a party trick. I thought that was central to parties. God, I'm still that sad kid inside.

And God, I'm still naive.

I went for a long walk last night, and when I arrived back on my street I retraced my steps again. I enjoyed walking up Taylor's Hill road and peering through people's bushes, spotting glints of stringlights.

At the shoreline during the storm, not knowing what puddles were made by the sea or the sky.

Tears streamed down my face, not knowing where they came from, or why.

It's becoming apparent to me I still don't understand life, like never understood parties. Self-awareness arrives in waves, and suddenly everybody has aspirations and a LinkedIn account. A CV and references. A trick up their sleeve. I'm an old dog.

I'm the black dog.

Low again-it's seasonal.