||[Jan. 1st, 2005|04:28 am]
Remus J. Lupin
As I write this, it is the middle of the night, or the early morning as you prefer, on the first day of 1980.|
Quite a strange thought, really: the changing of a decade ought not carry much weight, I daresay, time being a constructed concept as it is. It means nothing, and says nothing, save that it has been 1,980 years since the arbitrary beginning point of... not even recorded history, but simply a particular time which was, I believe, oriented on the date of a particular birth. I admit to begin a bit unclear on that, having very little experience with religion. None of this makes sense, I realise, but it is time for thinking, and so I shall do.
This past year, you see, has been a remarkable experience. There have been these journals, of course, and all whom I have met through them. There have been gains and losses, and the waging of a war just outside of our proverbial doors. Upon, one might say, our proverbial doorsteps. One of the three people closest to me has gone off, and I have not seen him very much since then; this troubles me, of course, but I cannot imagine how it must trouble Sirius, who is and was closest to him. Another has been swallowed by the workforce, one might say. And the last. Well, he remains, and that is the most important thing, really. There has been happiness, and pain. And in this way, I suppose it is no different than any other year - each year brings with it its own, individual ups and downs. We part with friends, and make new ones. We lose lovers, and start anew. I've switched jobs, I must say, an embarrassing number of times... which is why I am going back come Monday, though I am still a bit weak.
This past afternoon, I thought back as I often do. I suppose that is evident by looking at these pages. I thought of my years at Hogwarts, fascinating times that they were, filled with discoveries and hopes. The melodrama of youth paints everything in exaggerated colours: the reds of passion and greens of serenity, the blues of sadness and yearning and loneliness, and loss. When one is sixteen, or seventeen (and I speak as one just past that age, myself) it is so easy to slip from one into another. I suppose it is the same now, and I am simply too close to it to tell. But I do believe that time changes all of us, and each year brings new lessons, good or bad.
This past year, I have learned to open a bit. I suppose that has been the greatest, and most rewarding of 1979's lessons.
In this coming year, I will need to continue that trend.