[ Out with the old, in with the new — that's what New Years is meant to be about, isn't it? About turning over new leaves, about starting again; about resolutions and I'll do better this year; about self-improvement. Betina understands the necessity of celebrations like this, just like she understands how things like god and superstition and deep-rooted, near-delusional hope are a necessity too. They create loopholes through which the human psyche can slip through in order to salvage itself, maintain spaces where one can hope to regroup. Betina herself doesn't subscribe to any of this of course because Betina knows better.
As she stands on the front steps, fiddling with her unlit cigarette, she contemplates that this new year will hold for her. She's long since abandoned any prospect of new beginnings though she hasn't given up on the possibility of endings yet.
The steps are here, right beneath her feet, all she needs to do is take them. Beyond the stairs is the sidewalk and beyond that is the street—
There is no greater self-sabotage than welcoming Circe's rage down onto her own head.
BETINA | front steps
As she stands on the front steps, fiddling with her unlit cigarette, she contemplates that this new year will hold for her. She's long since abandoned any prospect of new beginnings though she hasn't given up on the possibility of endings yet.
The steps are here, right beneath her feet, all she needs to do is take them. Beyond the stairs is the sidewalk and beyond that is the street—
There is no greater self-sabotage than welcoming Circe's rage down onto her own head.
Perhaps this year will be her year. ]