Sitting on the sill of my window, watching the sun dip below the horizon and with it another year quietly slipping away. I'm trying to catch the last warm rays of this year in my palm yet I can feel that warmth slipping away , second by second.
The December wind whispering in my ears so cold and sharp and even the rustling leaves of a nearby tree seem louder in this silence. Isn’t it too quiet for the final sunset of the year?
But perhaps I’m overthinking it. Most people must be somewhere by the sea, watching the sun sink into the horizon.
"A scene painted in orange and gold yet one of inevitable surrender. What is there to celebrate in a sun dying by the shoreline, its fiery brilliance unable to halt its descent?"
Yet for me it all feels monotonous—another day, another year, the same old goals recycled like every other day . No fireworks, no big revelations , just scattered thoughts, faint laughter and an aching body—or maybe an aching heart , I can’t really tell.
Now I find myself wondering why this year felt like a blur. It had its ups and downs. Moments when everything seemed so overwhelming and others when it felt like I was caught in a strange kind of euphoria. It brought waves of emotions, sometimes leaving me breathless, sometimes with a deep ache that I couldn't explain like being on a roller coaster.
A deep sigh...
The December wind whispering in my ears so cold and sharp and even the rustling leaves of a nearby tree seem louder in this silence. Isn’t it too quiet for the final sunset of the year?
But perhaps I’m overthinking it. Most people must be somewhere by the sea, watching the sun sink into the horizon.
"A scene painted in orange and gold yet one of inevitable surrender. What is there to celebrate in a sun dying by the shoreline, its fiery brilliance unable to halt its descent?"
I take a sip of my tea, now turning cold and let my thoughts drift further.
Soon the world will burst into celebrations, drowning this quiet melancholy in music, laughters and clinking glasses. They’ll raise their cups, sharing thier resolutions over the haze of booze.
Yet for me it all feels monotonous—another day, another year, the same old goals recycled like every other day . No fireworks, no big revelations , just scattered thoughts, faint laughter and an aching body—or maybe an aching heart , I can’t really tell.
Hmmm...
Now I find myself wondering why this year felt like a blur. It had its ups and downs. Moments when everything seemed so overwhelming and others when it felt like I was caught in a strange kind of euphoria. It brought waves of emotions, sometimes leaving me breathless, sometimes with a deep ache that I couldn't explain like being on a roller coaster.
It’s strange how one year can feel like so much and so little at the same time. I can’t quite put my finger on it.
But then a sound cuts through my chain of thoughts. In the distance I can hear the echo of laughter, the sharp click of heels on pavement. The noise growing louder and louder as the night deepens, snapping me back to reality. That distant joy tightens something in my chest.
"Why are they so happy about another year when it will just end up going in vain like the last one?"
But then a sound cuts through my chain of thoughts. In the distance I can hear the echo of laughter, the sharp click of heels on pavement. The noise growing louder and louder as the night deepens, snapping me back to reality. That distant joy tightens something in my chest.
"Why are they so happy about another year when it will just end up going in vain like the last one?"
I wonder why…!
