New year, same me. Same aching in the pit of my stomach to get out get out get out

I can't push any harder, so I'll stop. I'm not defeated, because I'm still on my feet, right?

Sometimes you have to lose the battle to win the war. I don't know if this could be considered winning, but I'm pretty sure it's a step in the right direction.

Maybe this year, with its nice rounded and whole-looking numbers, will be the year I grow a pair (*****? Wings?) and get out get out get *out