Every year I tell myself this one will be different
like the calendar flipping gives me instructions
like January hands me a body that isn’t mine yet
everyone’s talking about goals and fixes and before photos
and I’m standing there nodding
feeling like I already failed something I haven’t started
I look at myself and start negotiating
not with anyone else, just me
what I’ll promise, what I’ll forgive, what I’ll punish
my body feels like a project instead of a place
and I keep thinking there’s a right way to arrive in the new year
like everyone else got a memo I missed
By the end of the night I’m tired of bargaining
tired of turning myself into a resolution
I don’t want a new body, I want a quieter relationship with this one
so I let the countdown happen without rewriting myself
and when the year changes
I stay exactly where I am and breathe
I stay exactly where I am and breathe