Dear 2017,
You were quite the roller coaster ride for me. Although we had great memories, we both know the bad outweigh the good. You outdone yourself in the most toxic ways. You lost friends, you lost your drive for the grind that you loved, but most importantly, you lost yourself. You sunk back to your worst self and relapsed to your bad habits. The worst part is, you haven't quite woken up yet. You know it's there, you know you're broken, but your pretentiousness romanticizes everything. You pretend that since everyone's going through something anyway it's okay to sweep it all under the carpet. You'd much rather drown than face the waves and get a chance to actually live.
2018 is here and it's beaming with possibilities. I can feel the slight brush of future, and I can smell, every so faintly, the familiar scent of new beginnings. Although I've left 2017 behind, there's still so much that I've brought with me here. I know that's bad but I couldn't quite get rid of it then. I almost purposely left it for 2018 not only because I gave in to sloth but conveniently, detoxifying during the first month of 2018 is liberating.
I don't want to make this letter long-- I don't want to shed any tears and not really care at the same time-- so I guess this is it. I hate you but I know I owe you gratitude. You taught me a lot about people, friends, family, God, and me. I mean now that I think about it, had I not experienced what I experienced with you, I would have dragged all my negativity, my blindness to my toxic nature in 2018.
So thanks, no...
Thank you. For letting me feel pain, for letting me lose, for letting me shatter into a million pieces and have no one else to pick them up but me.
Because I know I deserve to be bruised,
to recover my being's sharp shards
with my sinful hands
Thank you for the bloody hands. 2018 knows it has something to mend.
Remembering you always,
2018
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