2017, a treatise on where it all went wrong

I wonder if this year was the worst year of my life because it was just an absolute shit show of emotional death and destruction compounded by loss and false hope and multiplied by tension and depression.

or because as we get older it just becomes apparent how shitty life really is.

think back. last year sucked and you couldn’t wait for it to end, right?

now really think back, you would give up every thing for it to be last year wouldn’t you? it was not half as bad as you remember and not a quarter as bad as this year.

is it a matter of finding less or expecting more?

I don’t know the answer, so I ask.

is it a matter of philosophy that has changed?

hindsight is not 20/20, it is rose tinted lenses and candy flavored kisses. it is false and pandering.

think I am wrong? that is fair. how often did you bitch about inconsequential things last year and allow that to beat you down? How often did you transfix on issues instead of looking for solutions?

I know I concentrated on all the wrong things and that blinded me to where things were headed this year. I allowed myself to be swallowed by negative feelings and let them spice the stew that is my life. the blueprint was there in front of me, and if you are being perfectly, one hundo, it was written on the wall for you as well.

the slow degeneration of the things we took for granted as we sat and said woe is me.

the loss and the pain became the only focal point, the candlelight flickering in the storm of self imposed doom. 

this is the reason 2017 was the worst year on record for me at least. 

I took all of the wondrous things for granted. did not stop to smell the roses because I worried I would step in shit. what is a floral bouquet without fertilizer to help it grow?

self fulfilling prophecies. 

the last couple years progressively became the worst years on record. but i now look back and wonder how much of it could have been avoided. how many of these terrible actions could have been stopped with a simple smile and silent moment?

fuck me. 

not everything is in our control. the random chaos inherent in the universe built on entropy guarantees this.

but how many of the things that beat you into submission were telegraphed over a series of months if not years?

I can see the writing on the wall, dating back ten years. I can see that I ignored the signs and portents of impending sorrow. because something else had my attention. 

like ignoring an infected splinter because we stubbed a toe. and letting the splinter fester as we told every one how we kicked the corner of the table two months ago. 

drowning the little things made the real problems invisible.

I am not saying we could prevent tragedy, stop the heartache of 2017 by being more cognizant. I am suggesting it could have helped though.

imagine it this way.

in November 2016 we were all positive Trump was an orange asshat that stood no chance of winning. it became a joke. we ignored the fact that it was not only a possibility and when it became reality we were perplexed at how we sank so far.

we became so enamored with self perceived truth that the real thing seemed foreign.

I did it. I know I am at fault. not because of the election, I fucking voted for the lesser of two evils and loss my ass on it.

that sums up the last couple years really. contentedly slept through the best moments and only stirred for the bad ones. took for granted all of the things that made me happy in exchange for a feeling of shock and dismay.

when it all fell apart this year, after years of unraveling, I was left nude and alone in the face of oncoming destruction. ignored the facts and lived in opinions. made myself the center of the storm, not realizing I was just tossed along like everyone else.

but I stand now in the corpse of the worst year and stand humbly by, eyes open for the first time in a long time. broken and battered and still fucking here. alive when so many others are not. clinging to their bobbing corpses as the water level rises, trying desperately to get one more lungful of air before being swallowed whole.

and I see the beauty in it. all of it so ugly but shining like it is made of platinum. and I refuse to sink again.

2017 was the worst year I can remember. but it is going to be a new standard as well. it is the pin in the map showing where we have been. and I look at it with clarity and sadness and refuse to let it control the next. 

I have to. there is no point in drowning when my limbs work. no need to focus on the negative when there are glimmers of positive. those are to be clung onto. to be shaped and nurtured until they are the only things left.

dime store philosophies and trembling fingers, the need to right the vessel before the tide comes back in. 

find your hopes and ride them to shore my friends, my loves, my companions on this journey. let the fears and loss sink to the sediment to one day wash ashore and provide a fertile base for new growth. 

or flop in the muddy bank, slowly suffocating from an inability to let go. because if life has taught me anything, you have to let go of the bad. no matter how painful it is at the moment, because if it grows and becomes more it will be worse as it does.

had I realized this a year ago I could have shed that baggage and swam free into 2017, happy with what I had instead of weighed down with what I didn’t. because I didn’t have it then, I just didn’t know it because I refused to see it.

Houdini did not fear being tossed overboard, locked in chains inside a safe, because he knew that there was a trick. it wasn’t real. he just had to hold his breath until the crowd was sufficiently invested then swim to the surface to applause. 

2018 will be the year I perfect my escape artist act and let go of the all too comfortable victim act. because I have to, I cannot do this same song and dance any longer. and it will not be easy, but damn it all is anything worth it really easy?

can you?

I am here, your buoy, your tether, your friend, your lover, your gentle whisper of truth in this world of lies.

we can cling together and ride out anything. isn’t that what hope is made of? 

2 thoughts on “2017, a treatise on where it all went wrong

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