This year I learned to be selfish. Selfish with my time, my heart, my feelings, my mind and most importantly myself. I spent entirely too much time feeling sorry for the things I couldn’t change, wishing for things I didn’t have, and begging for people who did not deserve me. It has taken me two decades to realize I am a prize worth winning, I am a caviar dinner not a gas station hot dog. This year I’ve lost people I thought I couldn’t live without and given myself everything I needed. Next year, I hope I can learn to love myself.

Forgetting is never perfect, just as recall is never total: the list or the person’s name or the poem or the phone number may be recalled in every detail, but never with the exact feeling it had. And conversely the details may be obliterated, but a feeling lingers on.

I was born very far from where I’m supposed to be so I’m on my way home.