this year, you are a different kind of girl.
you preserve your hurt in a honey jar just to see how much you’ve grown. and hey, sometimes comparisons are a good reminder of what it looks like to move forward. & here, there is no need for confessions for being a seeing-is-believing type of person. this is no church & making it this far is enough of a religion for you.
this year, you shake out all the rugs in your house and wash your hair twice until it lathers in blooms like your barber told you. but that’s as far as rules go.
for the rest of the time, you grip the reins with your teeth because you're in the middle of writing a to-do list you’re only going to half follow. it doesn’t mean you won’t learn how to eat a pomegranate right or how to hem your favourite pair of pants. you'll find a way to improvise and find out you're good as hell at it too.
remember last year? last year, you went as far as making a pact with yourself to not look back. but back then you didn't know that that was those kind of promises. the kind that mimics leaving a ceramic flower pot on the edge of the top step of your front porch in the middle of a big storm. it taught you a good lesson though, so maybe it was worth it.
but this year, you are a different girl. by now, you're a little closer to figuring that life is more like a conveyor belt or the moving walkway in airports than whatever someone else said. meaning: you can look back as long as you don't go back.
so yes, restart. or reset. this is a crying year, a laughing year, a growing year. this is another year to grant yourself a second chance - be it your first, fifteenth, twentieth, or even fiftieth. and i am here to wish you all the best.
