Every December, I try to take about ten to twenty minutes out of one day to sit down and write my New Year's Resolutions. And every year, I reflect back on the one from the previous year. Sometimes, I've complete a task or a hope of the past year's resolutions, or I've grown stronger in some aspect concerning one of them. I have continued to put the same one's down like "Love harder," or "Save more money," or "Lose weight." And the older I get, the more I grow adamant in the fact that some of these will take me a lifetime to achieve. And that's okay with me.
I want to love harder, to not be so cold to certain situations in life, I want tears to fill my eyes and fall down my cheeks causing my pores to feel the liquid that sadness has created in my body. But, that isn't going to happen in a year. I realize that now. I am still learning to feel, I am still learning that everything I feel or don't feel is all apart of something great, all apart of the landscape my life surrounds itself within.
I want to save more money, but I'm young, and I will continue to make stupid decisions concerning wants more than needs. I'm slowly learning to put money aside, for an emergency, or for a future situation. That's going to take me more than a year, but for now, a yearly goal of savings seems to be a good enough idea. I'm learning that having an excess of money brings out the worst in people, including myself. The amount of money one has or uses to buy things with is no one else's business but the money holder's. I have always regarded money as malicious and omnipotent. Sometimes, my own regards consume me as well as others.
I want to lose weight. I want to have the power to control my dieting, and the confidence to enjoy my reflection rather than self-loathe post shower. It's going to take time, going to the gym and building a routine to go often is going to take time and patience, experience and optimism. Each of these qualities need to be created before I can employ the ending result as one of my successes.
So, this year, on my list, I made sure to write:
"Take your time. Easy does it. There is always next year, but we can start now. 2015 is 2016's preface."
What are your resolutions? What can you bring into the new year from last year's experiences/resolutions?
I'm unsure why, but mine seemed to drift away
Not both, but just one, like I wasn't paying
Enough attention to what you were saying,
But I assured you I was, especially when
You asked me where I was looking.
And I grew to hate them, the color the
Same as mud, stomped on with careless
Children and their boots. And their shape
Of the cheapest almonds, and their
Sensitivity to light and words. Their
Sensitivity to your taunts. Then we had
Decided they had enough, so I let them
Stick needles inside and woke up a
Drug lord with a redness sharper than
The Devil's shadow, similar to your
Words. But today, they are glossy like the
Beautiful mediterranean. And they will be
Okay. Because they do not see the world
In that careless way that yours do, but
My eyes see its and its people and
Appreciate it a little more than you do.
Gone. Yes, that's the word. Gone away, like the ashes from the cigarette, only leaving their remains on a carseat. To be squashed on by someone, or to pile up, again. To be seen when you have just cleaned the car. When you don't want to be reminded of it, but there it is.
Are you, different, now? Are you the same?
If you are different, have you learned to understand that people, the one's with skin, have emotions underneath?
If you are the same, have you thought about changing? Have you thought about finding yourself a soul?
I assure you all are born with them, some just pretend they cannot find their own.
And I am guilty of this pretense.
But not like you.
I would never be just like you.
That would be a crime for humanity to incarcerate, even more so than the injustices that have taken place ever so recently.
If you are the same, you should be outcasted by society.
I like to write; point blank. This is a little piece of me that I get to share with the rest of the world, and hey, you know, maybe you'll appreciate it, maybe it'll do nothing for you. But my writing exists, and that's enough for me.
© 2019 Silvia Iorio. All rights reserved.