2019 started in 2018. It blew in on a southern wind, sweeping me up with it, and away we went. The winters in New England are especially harsh, the snowpack was significantly high, and the temperatures dipped. Despite the harsh weather, you remained, 2018. Even after so many letters, after pushing back against your chest, you held me against you, refusing to let go. Refusing to set me free. So this letter is also to you.
The question that still remains unanswered, the ultimate reason for writing to the two of you, is: Why? What did I do to deserve it all? A question that will never be answered but reverberates in my head over and over, like a CD that skips. It’s so scratched that I doubt it will ever play again. (I don’t want to play it.)
And beyond the question you never answered, either of you, it occurs to me that I have very little to say. I have no desire to allow you to follow along with me into the upcoming new year. Your words were clear: you wanted me to leave you alone. Your actions spoke louder than any words ever could. They screamed: Go away. So I did and I will. Like the ghost that you made me, I will disappear into the mist.
But I will no longer remain silent in the fog where I have resided for the previous two years. I will not keep my mouth shut any longer for either of your benefit. Nor will I put pen to paper in your names, calling back to you, writing you both back into my life; you no longer belong here. You’re actions, your words, the way you both left me on my knees begging. Instead, I will use it. I will use each and every one of those experiences as stepping stones. I will step on you both and allow what you did to me to help me climb out of the grave you left me in. And in 2020, you will watch me rise.