December, Almost Gone

The year is ending

without asking if I’m ready.

It folds itself away

like a letter I never finished writing—

corners bent,

ink smudged with things I didn’t say out loud.

Some days felt endless.

Others slipped through my hands

before I realized they mattered.

I changed this year.

Not loudly.

Not in ways people clap for.

I learned how to sit with silence,

how to carry things I couldn’t fix,

how to smile while still feeling unfinished.

There are parts of me I lost,

and parts I found by accident.

Both still ache.

This morning feels like a pause—

not a beginning,

not an ending,

just a breath between.

I don’t know who I’ll be next year.

But I know who I was,

and I know I survived her.
 

So I let the year go

not with closure,

but with honesty.
 

And maybe that’s enough.