Taking Inventory

It’s 3pm on a Sunday afternoon in Brooklyn.
If you had told me a year ago that I’d be living in Brooklyn,
I might have laughed.
Honestly,
it’s hard to say for certain
because me a year ago
feels like a completely different person.
Tomorrow is New Year’s Eve.
It’s also my brother’s birthday.
Everyone raise a glass to that amazing young man.
I’m 26 years old. Single.
No prospects in sight.
It’s better this way.
And I have no solid plans for the evening.
But I’m ready for 2019.
2018 feels like a big year.
A shit year.
A year where a lot of shit went down.
So I’m taking inventory.
Inventory is a big part of my job now.
Inevitably,
there is loss.
But every once in a while,
I find something I never realized I had.

Friends.
Lost.
Gained.
Rediscovered.

Family.
Challenged.
Cherished.
Prevailed.

Career.
Paused.
Recalibrated.
Embarked.

Personal.
Upended.
Achieved.
Relocated.

Thank you, 2018.
Next.

Ready or Not

I thought that I was ready.
But I’m not.
I thought it would be easy.
But it’s not.
I didn’t think it’d be this hard.
But it is.
I didn’t think it’d hurt this much.
But it does.
I’m not ready.
But ready or not,
what’s done is done.

The Year of You

I wanted this year to be
the year of me.

I realize now it became
the year of you.

A pretty start
with an ugly end
and some volatility in between.
A predictable pattern of mine.

I’ve arrived
at the point where
nothing is left.
No doubt.
No question.
No curiosity.
No hope.

No dreams.
No magic.
No time.

I’m ready for a new year.

Be specific.

Sloppy. 

It was sloppy. 
I hate that. 

Same content. 
Different context. 
Changes everything. 

See the upside. 
I cut the chord of the crazy loops
that start to turn whenever he starts 
creeping back into my thoughts. 

It doesn’t matter. 
He didn’t care. 
He doesn’t care. 
He is not going to care. 

Let it lie. 
Just be done.

Or at least start writing again.