I fumble around for my keys and drop them on the floor, still useless from the alcohol consumptions of the night before and the previous 12 nights to add on top of that. The hallway is infested with sequins from my party and a single balloon floats around by my door. I release a big sigh of despair at the thought of returning back to reality.
Even though I wasn’t expecting much from the first day, this isn't how I envisaged that my 2018 would start and 5 days later nothing much has improved. I've listened to Celine Dion ‘Think Twice’ about 4,572 times, watched period dramas on repeat, used 8 boxes of tissues and consumed a box of Lindt and one pizza. Not the healthiest but I’m pretty sure I’ve lost weight, one resolution successfully achieved!
I haven’t left the apartment, bed or sofa and I’m beginning to question whether this cold is real or just a psychological virus. I pretend to be productive and make mental notes of what I’m going to accomplish but I’m only fooling myself, it’s the same things I said last year, only with less determination.
On Christmas Day I was blissfully unaware that I would be a midnight gooseberry, again. I've gone into the New Year alone for the past five years so it's nothing new and I shouldn’t be sad about it as I spent it with some of my favourite people, but I guess there was just that little spark of hope that this time it might be different, a bit more special. I only have myself to blame. I let myself imagine a picture based on a feeling and not a promise.
“Never absolutely, it was every day implied but never declared, sometimes I thought it had been but it never was. He has broken no vow…” (Marianne Dashwood, Sense and Sensibility).
Which only leaves one question, what are my New Year’s resolutions? Aside from the obvious, unachievable and overreaching which everyone else has, such as lose weight, eat healthily and only drink on the weekends (ppfftt), there is nothing. There was nothing I did last year that I wouldn’t do again this year.
Also, I am going to write a cookbook called “Random shit I’ve made out of the bizarre foods left in my fridge which taste surprisingly good”.
