New year resolutions kill my soul.
They make me hold high, high hopes only for me to drop a
burnt-out sparkler and lie to myself with an overused phrase,
"maybe next year."
New years is the day of lies.
I get high on whims and confidence only to be
five months into the year and not have a spark of progress.
I am reminded of how inept my efforts are.
In short, I feel useless.
I am a sunflower seed that is chewed
and spit out by the time the last digit of four numbers change.
I lose hope all over again.
YOU ARE READING
The Story Of Sixteen Cranes
RandomThis is a story about a boy. A world with only a boy. Only one name. One character but no protagonist. This is a story about two boys. A world with billions of people. Only two names, but it ends at sixteen cranes.
