It’s the end of the year that we just lived, and I feel fine.

I started this entry at the end of 2015. I never managed to finish it. The plan was to do the usual reflection on the previous year, blah blah blah. And I wrote a considerable amount. However, it never made it to post.

Also, on the last day of 2015, I sat down and started to reflect on the year in my journal. I did not get that far on that either.

You know why? I do not need to. There is no need for inner reflection. Writing on the last day of each year was a release for the part of me that needed the ear. I needed an “ear” to hear me out regarding every thing I did or did not do during that particular year.

I wrote about the good, the bad, the embarrassing, and the perplexing moments. I wrote about my goals for the new year. The plans I had for myself in those entries were daydreams I did not have the determination to make realities.

Every year, I would repeat this inner reflection.

This past year, I decided not to. I can reflect on the past and dream about the future all I want, and continue to be a passive passenger in my own life. Or, I can be proactive and actually do something.

Which I am doing. Instead of talking about the great dreams I have for the year, I have started working on them.

I am working on a rewrite of short story right now, which is going a direction I never anticipated.

My paints, pencils, and brushes are starting at me, itching to be in my hand. 

My goal for this year is to live in the moment.

And I would to get back to that now.

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