The capacity to be anything

I forgot how much I really hate New Year's.

Maybe that's a bit harsh -- but I really don't enjoy it. Although I want to take part in the instant hype of welcoming in a new year, my seasonal depression kicks in, and rather than making appearances I choose to sulk in a living room with champagne and cigarettes. Poor Grisha. At this time of year I just become so reclusive, so bitter and caged. It makes sense that this would happen now, since this was around the time that my Lola died last year (I was very close to her), but growing up I just remember not being so excited about the first of 365 days that represents the start of a new year.

Now I am worried that my seasonal depression isn't so much seasonal... I get moody every now and then, and it really gets to be a drag. I am happy, but sometimes it isn't hard to get a good case of the blues. How often do you have to swing between happiness and sadness before you start to go crazy?

Sometimes I get afraid that all I am is talk. I feel like I keep on saying things about what I want to do without actually doing them, and that scares me. I'm afraid of being nothing, of being forgotten, of being full of meaningless words. Doesn't this hurt my capacity to be somebody, to be famous, to be a name -- my capacity to do or be anything?