This was the year of upheaval. There were the years of deconstruction both academic and personal. When you get your cliche card punched by the avant-gardians of a de rigueur aesthetic. Days that passed too quickly in a vacuum. The seal broken, out in the world we traveled. I told you once of a train that was leaving, where would you be when it stopped. Maybe our relationship was like gravity, this shared belief to keep things moving. Entropy is my new reality these days.

This was the year I would call the worst one yet. You were going to be the non-denominational version of a rehabilitation center for my attitude, and my ego. I thought I would grow and thrive, help you feel alive. For years now we have been passing cars on a one way street. Where are we going? It's been six years since we went our pilgrimage west. Our defining weekend, our shared zenith. I stared at a moon glazed in ale, at a night still and pale.

This was the year of it's not you, it's me. It is actually more minute and boring than that. It's now the year of knowing what I want, and knowing it isn't going to be easy. A new way to fail perhaps, but success has a way of surprising you. Our values were always different. I know I was your version of teenage rebellion. Your parents didnt like me. I didnt like anything.

We don't fit anymore. We can give this a stay of execution, but the outcome is going to be the same regardless. There is no governor to pardon this, there is no one who would want to.

Never look back.