2019

Remember that lazy river that I described 2013 as? The unpleasantly tepid, overlong journey that led to absolutely nowhere? In 2019 I was once again thrown into this river, only to find that it had been filled with gallons of thick grey sludge. I spent months mired in this toxic stew, doing little more than waiting for things. Waiting for replies, waiting for developments, waiting for life to happen.

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2018

I emerged from 2017 bloodied and on trembling legs, but victorious. Life scowled, angry that I’d survived all the daggers it had buried into in my side. That scowl slowly curled into a malicious smile as it realized exactly what it could do to win, and stepped back into a dark corner, as if in acquiescence.

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2015

Over the course of these retrospectives I’ve compared my life to a movie series a few times, and I’m gonna use that analogy again here: 2015 was a straight-up reboot of 2011. A low-stress period of peace and regrowth with no unwelcome surprises. I loved it. I love love love love love loved it.

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