The last day of December

When you sit down in the evening -- curtains closed, low natural light -- you realize how fast the year's gone past. At one point of your think-trip, it almost feels like a blaze and you remember January like it was yesterday.

I remember when the year began.

Actually, I don't.
But what I do remember is that, even though, right now it feels like the year went away in a flash, there were times that were sluggish beyond imagination. Those were the days that just wouldn't end, no matter how much you wanted them to.
And then, there were the days you wished would last longer.

For me, waiting for college was like pushing a building. Nothing seemed to happen at a stretch of 3 months. Nothing. I don't even know how those months got crossed off the calendar. Waking up at 12 and going to sleep twelve hours later never seemed to go so slow.

But one day, it was over. And then, it felt like coming out of an underground bomb shelter after a Nuclear attack.

That's precisely when college doors opened for me.
And after college began, there was no way of tracing the clock's footsteps. Days were passing by like the pages flip when you're reading the most interestingest novel.
It just happened a couple of months ago, and I can't even mathematically explain how it was only a couple of months.
For one thing, I got out of school this year, but it feels like it's been forty.

There's obviously some sort of problem in the space-time continuum when it comes to this day. Time dilates and contracts and inflates and shrinks and it all goes crazy.

Yeah, but that's pretty much what happens every year.

Another thing that happens every year, somewhere around this date, but preferably no later, is that I say:

Have a happy new year.