I remember when the end of another year called for joyous celebration with friends and family, with strangers on the streets, the air pierced with explosions of cheers and laughter and false newfound optimism that bursts forcibly in myriad colors high above in the black sky. And people reflect on the year in that moment, reflect and breathe a sigh of relief that it's over, life will move on, on to bigger better things, time to make some changes.
Such are the lies we tell ourselves, and each other. In this mad world, we go in circles, making the conscious decision to destroy others in our selfish pursuits and arrogance. I reflect on nothing at the end of this year, look through no obligatory narrow scope that provides little understanding of the mess and destruction we perpetrate. I believe in reflecting on a daily basis, but that is just habitual of those with an abundance of private time, those of us who have become ghosts. To even begin understanding something demands consistent examination.
Sometimes when I raise my eyes from where I sit on the subway, and I meet the eyes of a stranger nearby I see an emptiness, a vacancy that prompts me to look away almost immediately. Though, it's possible that I am too severe about letting my guard down, and I dismiss them when, perhaps, they are ghosts too.
To look towards a better future, one with less prejudice, less inequality, less injustice against minorities, less bullying, emotionally or physically, less provocation, less misguided hate and ignorance, and less self absorption is a laughable sort of optimism. Humans inhabit the world, after all, and the social standards and codes that dictate the way we live are set by flawed humans. Everything is on us. Everything fails because of us, and we fail each other because there is an aggression in all of us that denies acceptance, understanding, and kindness for those we've been conditioned to loathe and oppress. And when we set the whole world on fire once again, as we do every day, every year, and we will continue to do so, we should all burn together, every last one of us.
From this realization, this realism that fosters nothing but truth, an uncontrollable aggression and despondency clashes with the laughter and solace that is innate to me, presents a conundrum that has made even the streaks of color and light and illuminations in the sky seem false and banal to me.
