At the end of each year,
I worry, worry, worry.
What will become of me?
The uncertainty of what will happen next.
The fear of being deserted.
All the mass confusion, mixing up emotions.
Not wanting closure,
Will to dwell in the past.
Afraid of starting over.
Closing the door to new beginnings,
Unlocking the door of yesterday.
Reliving the history.
People say that I am weird,
"Close the door," they say.
I want to, yet,
Something holds me back,
Gravity drags me backwards.
The inability to let go.
Sometimes this fear, this setback,
It scares me.
Makes me uncertain and not sure.
Yet I try to push forward anyway,
Though, I shake and look backwards,
But I remind myself that I must move on.
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