I like a light switch, feel okay again. It

I dropped my keys at the front door. The bells and chime of the copper keys hitting the hardwood floor. Two steps. I fold my shoulders backward, carefully letting my coat fall to the ground. Three Steps.

I aggressively throw my shoes off. Fifteen steps. I am running down the hallway. I am crying now.

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The soft kind. Choked back sobs. I jump onto my bed. I am wailing now. A childlike screech. I cling to the crisp white sheets, tangling them and turning them into a canvas of mascara.

My arms and legs jerked in a thousand directions. Deep Breath. That’s when I stop. Silence.  I have always wondered why I suddenly, like a light switch, feel okay again. It could be a wave of anxiety or maybe a light of reason.

The earth reminding me why I am here. In the quiet bedroom was a collage of myself a mirrored image of my inside self. I take some sort of comfort in that; and quotes by successful people. The earl grey tea walls, the white desk scattered with polaroids and the thousands of twinkle lights illuminating my memories’ faces.

Hope. My walls speak of hope for the future and the aspiration that I will finally read all the books on my shelf. My mind skims across the titles. In the corner, is a book I got when I was six years old about a little rabbit; A proud beautiful china rabbit named Edward. It was my favorite story and what drove my passion for reading. Edward was entitled and quite annoying at first, but through immense hardships, he learns to subsist hardships.

I was mesmerized by how vulnerable he was; “Look at me, he said to her…I’m broken. My heart is broken.

Help me…Fix me.

” I related to so much as a young girl learning to understand and manage my anxiety. But I also was enchanted by the dream of a better tomorrow. “You must be filled with expectancy. You must be awash in hope.” I noticed a slight imperfection on the nightstand adjacent to the shelf, candle wax. It peels away.

Cinnamon. The spicy sweet smell of comfort. The catalog of trips I am taking and schools I am thinking about reside on my bedside table. I’ve always dreamed of the future as being the kind of girl that travels at least once in her life and goes to college. Obviously modified from the childhood dream of touring Europe and Asia after graduating with flying colors from an Ivy league school. With childhood ambitions aside, I am proud of my progression.

Progress. I am making progress. Slowly, but as widespread as fire. I will make progress. Today. It was December 31st. Personally, New Year’s are always a time to reflect on my year. I would love to say I make goals, but rather like the weather, I forecast.

 People always say life is full of peaks and valleys. I wept through those valleys crawling on my knees. Midnight is anticlimactic but the effect of the New Year isn’t.

The minute from 12:00 to 12:01 doesn’t define you, but your attitudes opinions and choices throughout the year do. As actress Mary Pickford said “If you have made mistakes there is always another chance for you. You may have a fresh start any moment you choose.” This will be a year of great highs and unbearable lows. A year of freedom and hope and bliss.

Year of pleasant Dollar Store greeting cards sent to old and new friends alike; 12 months of little notes I’ll treasure forever. The feeling that time is too short. My head says ¨ if only I had met you sooner¨ or ¨If only we met later¨. The hot mess that is timing.

And at the end of it all, a feeling I cannot describe. To save me from the heartbreak of abandonment; this year will be to hope and proud movement of the future. To celebrate what is to come and say goodbye to the things I believe in so much it hurts. This year is something to toast to because as Michelle Obama said, “You may not always have a comfortable life and you will not always be able to solve all of the world’s problems at once but don’t ever underestimate the importance you can have because history has shown us that courage can be contagious and hope can take on a life of its own.” A toast to another piece that fades into my memories and alters my being, until I cannot be changed anymore; because one day, I will be like the butterflies.