Photo by Marvin Meyer on Unsplash

Poetic Recap of a Really F*cked up Year

The single most difficult of my entire life. I literally almost died.

This life is so rich and so ripe. Shouldn’t we devour it before we rot?

If not us, then who? If not now, then when?

Over the last year, I made friends and lost some. I traveled a few states and a few more countries. I walked away from the known into the unfamiliar, and explored myself and our (global) culture and (human) race with more depth and curiosity than ever before.

At some points, I was so infected and inflamed with dis-ease that I didn’t recognize who I was.

I suffered at the hands of my own mind and self.

I made family with strangers I have nothing in common with. And these family saved me when I couldn’t save myself.

I laughed my way to the top of a volcano, cursing every cigarette and boozy sip that crossed my lips the weeks before.

I realized that I can’t stand to watch suffering in others, but I allow my own to drag on incessantly.

I rejoiced in my own wit and charm and exuberance.

I did favors and asked for some.

I went out and over and through: looking, searching, wondering, wishing.