xxxvii
prev.I’ve waited, and the day is finally here. December 31. The end of the tunnel. This is my chance to wrap everything up with a nice little bow and say everything that I haven’t said.
I’ll start by saying something that I have said, over and over: I hate this year. It sucked. It was no good. There were some things that quietly warmed my heart, but mostly, it sucked. Writing in this diary has helped me to make it to the end with some sanity intact, but it also set me down the dark path of trying to rationalize all of it. It’s occurring to me now that all my rationalization was for nothing. There is no eureka moment; I’m doomed to be irrational like everyone else.
I need to flex my brain. It hurts. It’s been forced into this weird position all year, and now it’s all stiff.
When I look back on the weird year, I see it through blood-red lenses. I see all the times I could’ve escaped but didn’t, all the things I could've done but didn't. Instead, I spent the year wishing it would end.
If I could go above ground one last time before it all ends, I would assemble every doctor in the world in one big room, and I would say, "Fuck off."
I know I should let go of my anger because it’s unbecoming, and I should take a moment to thank all of the people who went out of their way to teach me how to be a doctor, but there’s no time. The weird year is not going to end on a peaceful, well-adjusted note, because the clock is about to strike 12. There will be no moment of gratitude, no respectful nod, no awe-inspiring moment of connection to the person in the mirror. Just a few minutes left.
I’m in my house. There’s a lamp and my water bottle and my phone and my wallet and a TV remote and lip balm and candy wrappers and a toothbrush and two lighters (one big, one small) and my glasses and my stuffed animal and my towels and the sun is going down. It’s winter, but there’s no snow on the ground. The sun is going to start staying up longer now. Wood walls.
Two more minutes. I’m standing in the helicopter. Will I jump, or will I stay in the weird year forever, spending the rest of my life in suspended animation? I still don’t know how to deploy my parachute. I didn’t learn any lessons from last time except that it’s cool to impress guys in helicopters, even if you have to die for it. And that there’s a nice view on the way down.
I hope the freefall lasts forever. I hope the ground never comes, that the clock never strikes 12, that I can stay. I think I can do it. I think I am infinite.
exit