New Year's Eve
The last twenty minutes of last year were spent frantically trying to scribble on a piece of printer paper aspects of myself I wanted to leave in 2018. I wrote down ugly little parts of myself I wanted to burn away and proceeded to the kitchen sink to light a match. After much persistence and several attempts to hide muffled coughs and choking, the paper did not burn. I resolved to drop it in the sink which I filled shallowly with water. It became soggy and smeared and the black sharpie ink bled, but I could still see the words through the parchment thin paper. The procrastination, self-pity, and depression still stared somberly up at me from the murky sink. And I panicked. At 11:47 pm I rushed back to retrieve another paper, scribbled more atrocities that I loathed and folded the paper into oblivion. I put the tiny paper in a teacup and threw in a match. This time, I told myself, this time it'll burn. It didn't burn. It smoldered and puckered, dancing...