It's a new year now. New year, and one where I will be completely on my own.
New moon, too. Fresh starts. Somehow seems fitting to me, as if there's a message in here for me to get myself in order.
Tonight I'm missing conversation. I think I miss this even more because I don't have an office job anymore, I don't have people I talk to every day. Lately, unless I go to the store and exchange a few moments of chitchat with a clerk, or someone in a checkout line, I don't talk at all, except to myself, for several days in a row.
When the ball dropped at midnight and all the happy party-goers in Times Square turned to someone for their new years kiss I began to cry again. I miss my kiss. We only celebrated seven new years together, and that wasn't enough.
While the firecrackers went off outside I spent my new years gazing at his photo, telling him my fears, but also my hopes, my dreams, my goals. Our goals.
But I still miss my kiss.
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