I know it’s a little late, but I have a few New Year’s resolutions.
This year, I will walk around my house in my underwear blasting T. Swift & I will not give a single fuck who sees me.
This year, I resolve, I will eat some sort of sandwich in the bathtub while drinking a goddamn bottle of fancy-ass wine.
This year I probably won’t get a better job, but I will talk about needing a better job,
and you might think I haven’t planned this out very well. But it is hard to set goals for yourself when the most difficult thing you can imagine is continuing to exist inside this body,
which is to say, last year I poured myself out sacrificial and prayed for any sort of miracle, which is to say, last year, I learned just how many ways you can kill yourself daily while still waking up the next morning,
I have been a silent opera, all open mouth quiet screaming, am I supposed to be grateful to have survived this?
Do you really think Lazarus wasn’t angry when they opened up his tomb?
Do you really think you can come back without bringing hell with you?
Lazarus and I, we are not afraid of zombie movies. We know what it’s like to be a dead thing walking around among the living; We have learned a thing or two about resurrection, This year, I am full up with fire— do not mistake this for burning; This year, Lazarus reborn in me; This year, I am not sorry, This year, I am made entirely of teeth.
