Impossible numbers add up on my abacus. I write myself words but do not want to share them, they are mine now, some of them break me at the delicate seams, but some will make their way inside and strengthen the bones, and I cannot give them away while my core is so weak. The mouse remains, I watch him run into the stove when he sees me. The exterminator says he'll be there at dawn.
Another year has passed, and didn't we all think we'd be somewhere better by now? Still, another year has passed, and this is where we are. Dig where you stand. One day this pain will be useful to you. I know this isn't what you had in mind, but listen to me now.
One day you will look back on this time and see it as the time that built your muscles, that sharpened your vision. One day you will look back on this time with softness in your heart, and the storm clouds that seem so encroaching now, that sit like a weight on your chest, they will somehow come to look like wisps of cotton candy.
You made it this far. Why not just keep going?
This year, it's as good a pep talk as any.
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