This Year

It's November.

It's almost the end of the year.

I wanted to do a lot of things this year.

I meant to update this. I meant to do a lot of things on it.

Half of them mean nothing to me any more.

This year I moved. I thought running would make things better.

It didn't.

I thought that Uni would be excellent.

It wasn't. There were people. I don't deal so well with them.

I meant to keep in touch with people after school.

Instead I gave up caring.

By now I'd hoped to have a job.

Rather I'm broke.

Just this year I meant to do a lot of things. But this year I didn't. I spent most of it sleeping and running away and trying to hide from things that were and still are just too hard. I read too much smut. I need to do something constructive.

And perhaps I will.

Next year.

And all the kings horses and all the kings men

couldn't put me back together again

So I laid in broken pieces on the floor

So don't come back for more