It's just been a strange sort of year. 

I've had to ask myself what matters more to me. It's not as easy as I thought, especially when both are important. Then I asked myself which would hurt more if gone, and I think the choice made itself. 

I've had to learn that you can't help people who won't help themselves. No matter what you do, sometimes you just have to watch people deteriorate by their own stubbornness or whatever-it-is. Maybe it's an instinct or secret desire for self-destruction; maybe it's the desire to live out a drama. I don't really know. 

I've learned I can't avoid pain, exactly, but I can choose how much I allow it to affect me. 

I went for painting classes, and didn't paint well but had a load of fun. 

I also learned a new sport. 

I still feel the sands of time trickling through my fingers. The constant loss of time makes me scared. But I do think it's alright, still, to use time luxuriously sometimes.