When I was younger, I followed the adults before me and made a New Year’s Resolution or two. It’s as if January 1 were some magical day, which that alone ensured success for those things I’d wanted to change. More often than not, I’d fail to follow through. Eventually, I stopped doing that. On the day I decide when I’m frustrated or dissatisfied enough to warrant some change within myself, I do it, whatever that day of the year turns out to be. It seems it works better for me this way.
despair at every turn me, an unwilling victim blockades to stop me turbulence swirling me about
My history embedded a lack of power in me.
Years of criticism, critique, and disgust took its toll.
Thick layers of neglect crusted over on this shell of me.
Defeated, ignored, and scared.
But I dared to feel more important than what the day rolled out.
I fought to experience life exquisitely, with the volume on high.
Determined to engage with this existence full of substance and force.
I clutched myself hard and pushed forward to lean loudly into my future.