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It is now 2013. I rang in the New Year alone in my house following a day of work and grocery shopping, and I was pretty content.

I feel as though I ought to attempt something profound tonight, but to be perfectly honest, I haven’t given the New Year much thought. It’s a day, not unlike all the others. Perhaps tomorrow I’ll spend some time thinking about what I hope the next year will bring. Perhaps I’ll just enjoy a day off work with little to do.

I am terrified of a future I can’t predict. I am scared of all the things I don’t yet know, like where I’ll live, how I’ll work, what money I will make, and whether or not I’ll get to fall in love again.

I have hope and wishes for the year to come, and I’m aware of not wanting to put too much stock in them. They seem a bit like fairy tales. But, I suppose, perhaps it’s not a terrible thing to spend a day believing in fairy tales. Believing that one could come true for me.

The truth is, I’m afraid to admit to what I want. Afraid to claim my own desires for fear I’ll just be disappointed in the end. Maybe tomorrow I’ll spend my day pretending it’s possible to have what I want. All of what I want. Perhaps I’ll imagine what the world in which such a thing were true, and then imagine it’s the same world in which I already live.

I want to believe.