I've never understood what there is to celebrate at New Year's, and it's therefore never a time when I feel particularly joyful. Minutes, hours, days, months, years - they're all just numbers, yet another way in which we humans try to impose some sort of logic and meaning on the otherwise random events which occur over the course of our lives. But the truth is, it's meaningless; years are numbers, and nothing more. So many people, at this time of year, say things like "I hope 2015 treats you well" - a nice little pleasantry, perhaps, but that's utter nonsense. It doesn't matter how we measure our lives - no measurement will ever treat us any way at all, because that has to come from us.
I'm starting to sound a tad too existentialist for my own liking, and probably for that of other people, so apologies for that, and please, consider this: the world could end tomorrow, and we would only have got live one day of this new year. Does that mean that this year was wasted, pointless? Not at all. Just think what we can, and may well have, put into one day, how drastically our lives can change over the course of 24 of those things we call hours. Now, I'm very tired and feeling somewhat melancholy, so this probably makes no sense at all, and I doubt that I'll ever be able to write down what I truly want to communicate. As I sit here, however, there are 364 more days left before the number at the end of 201 changes from a 5 to a 6. Who knows, I might not even get to see all of those days. On the other hand, I might see them 80 times over. Nobody can ever know what lies ahead.
What I do know, however, is that I'm going to do my best to treat 2015 well. To make sure that every single moment receives the recognition of its value that it deserves. To live, as intensely as anyone who ever lived, and more. But first, I'm going to get a good night's sleep.
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