I didn’t think I was going to be writing these anymore, but then Henry asked if I had written mine for this year, and I realized I kind of felt like I needed to write a goodbye to them. It’s fitting that I’m posting my *last* one on the day I have a lunch date with the original author. Here you are, Henry. And everyone. And me.
I believe my fictions contain too many truths,
yet I believe my truths are made of nothing but a
combination of infinite fictions. I believe
the present is fleeting yet ancient, like a worn,
cracking library date stamp. I believe time stamps are
for me and for posterity. I believe I’ve never cared so much, and
I believe I’ve never had so little concern
as I do now. I believe I am already prevailing.
I believe I am not here to make friends;
I believe friends can make me. I still believe
in singing. I believe in quiet letter writing,
flickering candles, and living in everyone’s past.
I believe acceptance is liberating; I still believe
in wishes, but I don’t need them anymore.
I now believe in study, in myth, in solitude.
I know I belong where I am.