12:00:00

You’ll have to forgive me if I seem at all cliche in writing what you can call a reflection on the past year. If we’re being honest, what is a new year but a measure of time humans invented to make sense of how we perceive it. I mean, just how much different is December 31st from January 3rd? But I've been conditioned to think of time in minutes, days, weeks, and years. So whether or not I accept it, the years are significant now more than ever. In our youth, a new year couldn’t mean any less than they did. What was  January but a month closer to summer break, or hopes that we’d get a little taller? I mean, I really couldn’t tell you the difference between 2006 and 2012. But even if I didn't notice, time was moving on, until finally, I understood what a new year was and meant. 

What I’ve come to notice about the mood around this time is that there is a certain level of melancholy right below the surface of every New Year’s party. Although we welcome the rotation around the sun, we also know that it constitutes time lost. You see, January 1st marks a new chapter. But unlike the pages of a book, we aren’t afforded the chance to read it again. It wouldn’t be so hard if we didn’t realize that the book would in fact come to an end. With each page, we are forced to ask ourselves, “Am I running out of time?” Time in the deepest sense of the word. How many more years will I have to do what needs to be done? It’s a pretty daunting deliberation, but this is what the new year becomes, the more of it we experience. This milestone that every 365 days signifies is one we don’t often fully grapple with. It isn’t as if we don't realize that even as we celebrate, we are somewhat scared. Not only of what the future may bring, but also because of what is lost to the past. When the ball drops and we shout in jubilation, we allow ourselves to forget the inevitable, because it’s scary. I’m not sure why the first moment of the prospect of a new year ushers in a sense of dread, but it does, and I too am sometimes scared. Even if one is resolute in the fact that our time on this planet is limited, the fear of falling short can never be avoided. No matter who you are, there is always something you are working towards. Whatever the motivation, the future you are forging lies in the decisions you made in the old year, and with each new year, that future draws nearer and further. 

Personally, I often ponder on opportunities I let pass me by, or moments I should have been less pensive. These “Should I’s” and “Will I’s” are normally questions we try and forget, because they admittedly make us feel uncomfortable. They force us to examine our decisions and the life we’re making for ourselves. This, more so than anything, is what a new year is—the one moment time seems to afford you a second to consider it. Throughout the year, the days seem to be only separated by the seasons, and we forget that each day is in fact a different day. We pass through time almost mindlessly. But on December 31st, we can’t escape the feeling of reflection. It seems as if almost the whole world stops to think. This is when you should allow yourself to feel all the new year brings and takes: the joy, the hope, the dread, the fear, the regret. Don’t run from it. We won’t be here forever, and as we become more aware of that, each year means more and more. The pages cannot be read again, and even as the pages left do grow smaller, it’s okay, because any story worth telling is only as good as how it ends. Allow yourself to be uncomfortable, and then move as time does even though you will come to an end, only stopping to appreciate how special all of it is.