New Year's is a time of recollection and assessment, looking back and reevaluating, reliving the past and checking in with ones' self, remembering and taking stock, reexamining memories and analyzing, reliving and retrieving, taking a look at the past and learning from our mistakes, reminiscing and appraising, recounting and evaluating, relating and sometimes relearning, reviewing and taking measure, surveying and considering, recalling and calculating, recognizing and using perception, commemorating and reoccurring nightmares, forgetting people's names and their faces, using your words and your irresistible charm for things you don't need but really want, reliving memories that you thought you had buried with overwhelming large amounts of shame and regret that make you shutter uncontrollably when you thinking about them. The thoughts posses you as you walk home and when you wake up as you feed the dog and when your talking to the clerk, if only you could let yourself forget for one moment of one day, but it's like an peripheral image lingering out of reach but closing in. It keeps you vigilant and exposed. Isn't it' punishment enough that you have to relive that memory over and over? if you could take it back you could, but time will only intensify the guilt of the mistake. Like a violin climbing higher and higher up the neck, the memory turns from an argument into a single channeled voice, each day you think the note could not climb higher and the voice could not become clearer, sharper; it's growing. It's growing in you and you want to run and you remember when you were free, before the event, when everything seemed simple and clean and calm, and you remember the enjoyment of relaxing and breathing being able to look at people in their eyes. But that's over now, because you got Netflicks. and there's a special place in hell for you.