Goodbye 2007

Goodbye 2007. I am not going to miss you in the least. In fact, I think I shall look back on you as the single worst year of my life. I always thought that 1996 would be able to hold onto that distinction, since I came within milimeters of death or permanant brain/heart/liver damage that year. But congratulations, 2007, you managed to top 1996 for sheer crappiness.

You began with the uncertainty of my dear brother-in-law's battle with cancer and me in a fragile, broken emotional state after having a goal I worked toward for nearly five years go up in smoke. You teased me with opportunities that were glimpsed then snatched away, the ideas of possibilities that could never really happen, and a fight for something that wasn't worth fighting for. During the summer you allowed me the opportunity to suffer third degree burns from my stomach to my leg. You let me fall victim to misplaced trust and shattered illusions.

You were not a good year, 2007. You were fraught with pain, fear, betrayal, heartache, and even tedium. You are now ending the way you began, with my brother-in-law preparing to fight cancer once again.

But rest assured, 2007; you may have won the first several battles, but I am the winner of this war. I'm ending on my feet, courageous and independant once again. You may have thought you'd crush me, but you unknowingly made me stronger.

Today is your final day of life, 2007. Tomorrow, you'll just be a memory, which will diminish and weaken as other years come and go. Meanwhile, I'll keep growing stronger and stronger. Then someday when another year replaces you as the hardest year of my life, I won't flounder about like a lost child the way I did with you.

Goodbye 2007. There's so much more I could say to you right now, but only two words are really necessary:

I win.