Ragne's Abyss

January is depressing. It’s the one month of the year that has nothing exciting happening in it. There’s no holiday to celebrate, and during the entire month, you’re trying to prepare for the year. January is also the coldest month of the year. The sky is always hazy, and it rains more often than it should. Though I’m sure the earth greatly appreciates the showers. Currently, the winds are out of control. They’re so strong, I can feel myself being pulled by them. It’s only my luck that I’ll be swept away like The Wizard of Oz.

I feel the worst in January, which is contradictory to what the month is meant to represent. New beginnings and the start of a new year, yet I feel worn out and tired. The year’s just started, and I’m already exhausted. “New Year, New Me,” everyone says at the beginning of a new year. It’s redundant due to the number of people who fail to complete their resolutions. The idea that we have to change has bum-rushed people to the point where we end up not changing at all. Is change really happening, or are we just saying that it is?

Most of the time, people stay the same. The concept of new beginnings at the start of the new year has always stressed me. It stressed me because I chased after the idea that I needed to change—that I needed to become a different person. So, I end up changing myself, but things would only change on the outside.

I never saw adjustments to my personality or personal being. The only change I ever saw in myself was my clothes, hair, and makeup. Even when I’ve tried to change my personality, my true self always comes through. When I say change my personality, I mean adding more charisma to myself. Trying to have some mystique and sensuality to my being.

I’ve always been told that you can’t fight nature—The same goes for me. I can’t fight against my true self, my childish, corny, and awkward personality. Though that sounds extremely performative, it’s a true statement. I’ve stopped fighting to hide it and instead started to accept it. Yes, I’m a bit corny and tend to laugh at my own jokes. Yes, I can be awkward, especially when taking pictures. Yes, I still enjoy watching the same cartoons that I watched when I was a kid. I replay their episodes, hoping to recollect on simpler times. I’ve learned to accept who I am without embarrassment.

Though I was the only one truly judging myself. I don’t need to search for the new. I don’t need to build a new person, for the person I am has yet to break down. I say, why replace what isn’t broken? I’ll only end up neglecting what I once had in hopes for the new to be better. I don’t feel that it’s worth it.

 Perhaps the new year isn’t meant to replace the old with new creations. Instead, care for what you have now and allow it to prosper on its own. Growth rather than instant renewal, that’s a simpler way of saying it.

In January, the earth waters its gardens, nurturing itself so it can grow in the spring. January is blowing away any debris that’s cluttering its floors, similar to the dust I’ve let settle in my mind. This cold month is allowing space for reflection—space to breathe. This is the one month of the year that allows me to feel, to cry, to rest. Three things that I need most—that I hold myself back from.

I’ve changed my mind about January. January is dispassionate. Its weather reflects what I need to release. Its hazy atmosphere shows beauty even when the sun can’t shine. Its lack of holidays illustrates that the mundane is needed. I didn’t realize how much I needed January.