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January 1, 2015

It’s the first day of the year, I’ve been in the same room for the past 14 hours, kindness is a choice. A dying man told his daughter it is a privilege to be loved and it is a privilege to love; it is my privilege to love while cooped in the same room for five days now, I know what I can choose. Can I just say, though, it’s hard to stay in the imposed confinement and hear laughter and voices outside, knowing they move around freely, can walk where they wish. It’s hard not to mind.

So I listen for footsteps and differentiate each voice, placing a face beside sentences. I’m not always successful. And, it’s new year’s day, the rolling on from Christmas, these special days, but I had macs for dinner on the latter, and instant noodles today. If beginnings set tones, my year looks frightful.

So I mourn for the loss of freedom, the loss of special days. The loneliness in each. How quickly the intention of kindness whisks away, when one is otherwise engaged.

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