Imagine

"Some people believe in God, I believe in Music. Some people pray, I turn up the radio."
30 Seconds to Mars, Closer to the Edge

Who decides when the year starts? When the clock strikes midnight after 11.59pm on December 31st, when the paddy in the fields are ready for harvest... when the moon completes its phases? All of it seems so concrete, so decided yet it seems to flow so seamlessly. The beginnings all seem so rushed and fully of giddy excitement of new plans, new promises, and rid of all the staleness of last year. 

In a country with so many such beginnings, October does not offer such a gift. But on the eve of my turning 23, I seem to be hit but a quarter-life crisis. So many times, we are told to follow our dreams, whatever they might be. But I am tired of trying so hard to make dreams, mold them into something which I think I could be proud of, then finding that they were always someone else's dream I am trying to steal and call my own. I am more impulsive than most, having dreams so intense that I feel like I must not get out of the little bubbles that I have created for myself, but like all bubbles, they burst and then nothing is left but the memories of those bubbles. 

So, instead, I am making this jar, to collect all those memories. So maybe one day, when I grow into the person who can achieve all this dreams...I could let them slowly escape, and live them. So here's to my own new year, to love, live and rage.