New Years

Every year I promise I won't make any resolutions, but every year I do anyway. A hopeless romantic for new beginnings, fresh starts, doorways to freedom from the past. The idea of being able to walk swiftly away from the mistakes and pain and ugliness of the passing year, simply with the hand-tick on a clock that will soon say midnight is too rich and intoxicating to avoid. 

I'm no stranger to mistakes. To lessons learned the hard way and things lost from my grasp as quickly as water, sand, someone else's finished grasp. As unrealistic as it may be I cling to the hope of more tomorrow's. More chances to try harder, and even if I continue to fail, to hopefully fail better. 

I'd like to laugh more. 

I'd like to let things go more easily without losing the part of myself that loves even (especially) small things so deeply. 

I'd like to need less and be content more. 

I'd like to feel less like a giant pile of feelings and emotions, without losing the part of myself that is passionate and enthusiastic and perceptive. 

I'd like to eat better....but this one is more of a "nice to have" because cheeseburgers. 

I'd like to be more present and engaged and less worried and distracted. 

To love more and kiss more and hold my babies more. 

I'd like another year to continue striving toward a rich and full and content life. Something all at once simple and adventurous, peaceful and magnificent, complete and curious. 

I'd like another year to continue working on all the tangled knots and sticky webs that tie me to my past. Another year to try not to be a broken victim of my shitty circumstances, but a survivor who feels no need to relive those dark moments. Who remembers what they came from but cares more about where they're going. 

I'd like another year for more. And even if I fail, I'll fail better than I did before. 

Happy new year.