I’m over blaming this year; 2013 is innocent of all the flak people have been giving it.  It’s not the environment, not the economy, not the weather; it’s me.  I am the one that’s broken.

That said, I’ve stopped feeling bad about it.  I’m at the point now that I just want to focus on moving forward, moving past, getting better.  I’ve re-examined my New Year’s Resolutions and decided to focus more on them, specifically the part about being more available to my friends.  I have not been doing that at all.  I told a friend of mine today that I was going to spend the last half of this year making the promise of spending time with him, even if I can only block off one night, a priority.  A perusal of my Tweets revealed the last time we’d hung out together was April of 2012.  Lame.

I’ve been thinking about my family lately and what a distant piece of crap I’ve been to them.  You see, a friend of mine just moved out of town and we still talk semi-regularly through text, chat, e-mail, even postcards, but it’s not nearly the same volume as we did when we lived down the street from one another.  As the tether stretches and the knots unfurl, I feel a vacuum forming, and it hurts.  It made me think of when I left Texas almost eleven years ago and the promises I made to all my loved ones that nothing would change between us, that the years wouldn’t tarnish our shining friendship, that the miles wouldn’t silence our reverent conversations.  But it was all lies.  And it’s no one’s fault.  Living is a full-time job; I got to work right away when I arrived in San Diego, trying to build a life out of forty dollars, a busted car, and a borrowed couch.  Some things fell by the wayside, but it was necessary for me to succeed out here.  Now that I’m feeling the separation of someone I love searching for their own place in this world, I can’t help but feel remorse for my action all those years ago and for the state of some of my relationships as a result.

It’s hard to pick up the phone after all these years, though.  I’m not good at small talk, especially when it’s with someone with whom I was closer than close in another life.  How do you ask someone you love how the weather is?  Seen any good movies lately?  How do you think [popular sports team]’s prospects look this year?  Remember when the world fell apart and we were the only thing holding one another up?  Crazy news about Gandolfini, right?

Regardless, I have some apologies to make.  Several for the distant past, quite a few for the recent past.  The depression that has been with me since January has manifested in many ways, and I often end out hurting others in my ceaseless attempts to punish myself.  I’ve let a lot of people down, I’ve hurt a lot of feelings, and I’ve burned myself in the eyes of others.  I want to move forward, now, though.  I don’t want to dwell on my mistakes, I don’t want to wallow in my stagnation; I want to fix things, grow, and focus on solutions.  I want to be the better me that people seem to think I can be.

Does it count if I’m only doing it for them, though?