every year is the same.
all those god ****** resolutions people make.
like one day you're one person,
and you can wake up the next morning and be someone completely different.
all of a sudden you're courageous and motivated.
you have meaning and purpose.
and i call ******* on it all.
for me the new year isn't about making a new me,
it's about improving on the me that already exists.
because this past year, i picked up the pieces of myself.
i put myself back together.
with some elmer's glue and scotch tape.
it wasn't pretty but it happened.
only to watch myself crumble once again.
i fell into a million more pieces than the time before.
each time i collapse, it gets worse.
and it gets harder. but i get stronger.
i never give up. i work my *** off, and pick myself back up.
and that is exactly what i am going to do.
the same me, just new and improved.
an upgraded version, if you will.
because each year that goes by i learn so much more.
i make so many mistakes, and hell i repeat them a few times.
i know, i know, shame on me.
but it takes time. i fall. and i get back up.
and i learn.
so i'm picking myself back up.
Ashley Twenty Point Oh.
i think i'm gonna have to use super glue this time.
maybe some duct tape too.

i don't mind it.
i mean it *****.
don't get me wrong,
it really ******* *****.

but i'm used to it yanno?
it's just been going on
for so long.
so consistently it's kind of beautiful.

it's beautiful.
how hard it is for me to breathe.
how each time i inhale,
there is a war waging within my chest.

i am so used to this feeling.
i can live with this.
this is pain. terrible pain.
but it is manageable pain.

for me at least.
i'm strong enough, i can handle it.
i love when people ask me 'how have you been?'
i respond the same way every **** time.

i'm still here, so i guess it hasn't been all that bad

and then they just stare at me.
like did you really just say that to me?
like i didn't want a real answer,
i was just asking as a formality.

you know how people do that.
they ask how you are because they're supposed to.
but **** it you're not supposed to tell the truth.
you're not supposed to tell them you're drowning.

but anyways, yea.
i can handle this.
the bad part though, the part i absolutely can't stand,
is watching people who love me watch me drown.

they're like cute puppies in a window.
so helpless.
so ignorant of what you feel.
because the people who understand...

yea well they got the hell out of dodge
as soon as they saw
part of themselves inside your pain.
they know how bad you are, so they save themselves.

no. i'm convinced this wouldn't be so bad,
if i didn't have to watch them watch me.
because really, i'm the one suffering.
but somehow, i still want to help them.

now how does that make any sense at all?
honestly i'm not sure it does.

it's going to be a big house.
not too big though,
i don't like houses with rooms
without purpose.
i'm a big fan of purpose.
if i have something,
there's going to be a reason for it.
it's going to be victorian style.
with a tower.
it'll be peach, with white shutters.
and a porch.
that wraps around half of the house.
and there will be a yard.
i like yards.
i don't care much about the kitchen.
i can't really cook after all.
but the bedrooms will have so many windows.
windows everywhere.
it will be full of light.
with bright, happy colors.
because it will be a happy place.
except for one room.
one room will be dark and romantic.
with red walls and mahogany wood.
it shall be full of books.
the walls will be shelves.
and there will be leather couches.
one day i will die peacefully
in that room
while my husband fixes me some tea
and Holden Caulfield is catching children
on the pages in my hands.