Sometimes I look at photos I’ve taken of myself and think I aged a decade in two years.
It’s the last day of January. On one hand, I’ve had a good month. I lost some weight. I did some fun stuff. I saw my friends more often. I cleaned the house more often. I got a job. On another hand, I gained the weight back. I didn’t see my friends or clean my house as often as I’d meant to. My job is the exact kind of job I tried to get away from. And I still have times like these, when even with a cat in my lap, a monthload of progress and a new job to start tomorrow, my self-portraits reveal a sad, tired face.
In the words of the immortal, Charles De Mar, “Buck up little camper, we’ll beat that slope together.”
Indeed, indeed.