I'll be the first to admit it was my weakest year in terms of my spirits. I'm naturally strong but this year I was lazy when faced with the challenge of having to adapt. New and unfamiliar tragedies struck, harsher weather hit and I was last in line to defend myself. Picking it all back up won't be pretty. Pieces lie around like shattered toys. Boy, is it something to watch yourself fall apart but care so deeply about another person you forget to care for yourself. It's another thing, too, to let yourself believe you don't deserve to get better. To deprive yourself of water and light to insist you're strong enough to fight fire with fire when you already burned out. What's that about? I was weak, and I won't pretend I was growing into something worth being proud of. I lied a lot this year, to myself the most. I watched my world crumble around me and those who bore witness claimed hyperbole. That was devastating to me. A world I'd carved with my own hands, shattered and then made into a mockery. So I let go of making the world mine, I ran out of steam. I was weak. I was so ******* weak this year and I lost almost every piece of me. I don't like that attitude, the whole "New year, New me" but boy, am I sick of being this one. I got too scared to ask for help, convinced I was in fact stronger than anyone on my own. That's until I was alone and I fell apart 125 nights in a row. I was weak, but I was more scared than anything. Courage came like sunshowers and lifted me above skyscrapers but only for field trips. We always forget we have to go home at the end of the day, remember? I would ask for a hand only when falling and would wake up and learn that I was dreaming. Reality hit me like a bus this year, and I never reached for a hand when I wasn't in bed. I missed that too, holding onto something warm after cold nights and red skin. Let it sink in, when you're falling out of love for the first time and you don't think you're going to get past it, you will. But you'll lose a lot of who you thought you were, too. I did that this year. I'm sorry. I'm not who I was when I was in love. I'm not that girl anymore and I'm not weak. I'm standing on my own two ******* feet here, now. I'm here, now. You haven't seen the last of me. I was weak, and things were ugly. I was drunk and I can't remember the last time I felt at peace where a substance didn't do it for me, but I've felt it before on my own and know well enough what that heat feels like when it sits in your stomach. I miss the flutter in my heart after writing a good poem or watching a sunrise in May. I miss a lot that I put away this year because underneath their top coats were memories I was not ready to face. I'm only 20, loss is something I understand now. Everyone said I would survive and for months I was convinced they lied but I'm here now, my hearts beating now. I can't say I'm weak anymore because I'm still alive to tell you about it. Just wait until you see what I make from the pieces I choose to pick back up and the new ones I make. This year is mine to take. Here's to you, 2017.
