It's that time of year and I'll be damned if it feels like the year has flown past. I love the holidays, I think they bring out the best in me. The well behaved youngest sister who wants only to shower her family with gifts and happiness. The naive daughter who has yet to be jaded in the eyes of her mother who doesn't want to destroy that illusion. The hard worker who relentlessly dons a smile. The faker, who isn't really faking it, because it is all genuine, it just isn't complete. Because she is hiding away the other little bit that is unhappy with certain things. And it really is only just a little bit. At least right now it is.
My life is feeling like it is out of my hands and I honestly don't know if I am grateful for that or not. I am anxious all the time and at the same time I am content with that. Contradiction? Yeah I know. Someone once suggested to me that maybe I like to play with my own mind. That is entirely possible. It is probably even true. I am my own protagonist. But at least I own it. And ultimately, even if I am the one who screws up my life, I don't deny that I am the one responsible. And I am beginning to embrace my own screw ups. And I can look in the mirror and smile, at least half of the time.