When I was a child, my excitement at the end of the year welcoming a new year was a climax in my family. We bought snacks, went to the market for a big dinner, and watched TV shows lying on the sofa. But somehow, when I realize a year is about to end again, the great passion of celebrating and embracing a year only skitters and penetrates to the underground.

My degenerated mood appeared when I was in the 7th grade in 2016. I first experienced what graduation meant and how separation was sometimes eternal. Stepping into a new school and not knowing anyone, I thought of the old school life where everyone laughed together even though we knew there were piles of homework left behind. Toward December, what planted in my mind was not that a brand new year was coming, but that my lower school classmates would be farther away from me. 

I got accustomed to the new environment and made new friends, and my attitude towards New Year gradually transformed to sentiment because I was afraid to lose the memorable moments with my friends, and I only wished time could just stay there, perpetually. As a new year is coming, I feel a stranger is walking toward me with a confusing smile. 

My nostalgia for the past only makes me feel everything will start over—maybe in a good way, or not—in a new year and feel my past will elapse and disappear into a time space where no one can find it anymore. However, we can’t stop time from slipping away, but we can do our best to record every valuable moment.