2020. Well. That happened.

And soon, it shall be over (for me, at least; much of the rest of the world is already in 2021). I’d thought I’d have more to say here, but now that I sit at the keyboard, typing this, I find I’m at a loss. My god, this year. This year defies definition. This year…

I plan to go to bed early and sleep through the passing of 2020 into 2021. Last year, I remember feeling rather meh about the whole affair, but stayed up to watch the fireworks. This year…this year, I just don’t have the energy anymore.

There’s this mockumentary/documentary on Netflix called “Death to 2020”. It puts things into a scope and perspective that, when it was happening, I know I couldn’t see. It wasn’t until watching that, seeing it all laid out in a chain of events, one to another, that I realized, my god, I forgot about that. I forgot that happened. I forgot those things happened concurrently. This year feels to have been, easily, a decade’s worth of events crammed into one. Never did I think I’d ever look back on 2019 fondly. Or 2018. Or 2017. Yet, at the same time, 2020 has been an odd series of experiences of change and, like most change, it was thoroughly unpleasant, potentially harmful (when it didn’t outright just hurt), and terrifying more often than not.

So onward we go into 2021. I shall not curse this new year with expectations. Though I warily temper my hopes, I do hope. Because I can’t help but hope. Because I need to hope. So I hope but…quietly.

Anyway. This post is edging quickly toward maudlin, so I’ll cut it short. Tomorrow, I’ll write a proper reflection and anticipation post, i.e., what my goals for the coming year are and such. But until then, goodnight 2020. You’ve been a year.

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